The prompt

THE nice decade is behind us, folks, and any right-minded person's foremost concerns on hearing such a thunderous proclamation from the Governor of the Bank of England last week will rightly have been about their own personal finances, their professional security and the future prospects for our standard of living in this country.

From any economical, social or industrial shift, the underlying factors and fallout take their time to rise to the surface as chief concerns, and rightly so given the severity and significance of the current anxiety. So, while school closures, factory closures, interest rate fluctuations, and rising food and oil prices dominate discussions in the big bad world, it's often too much of a tumbleweed trigger to be talking about arts funding. This is particularly true in Scotland, given that the conversation-cum-consultation-cum-calamitous-cackhandedness of our arts policy in recent years has been enough to send most folk opting to stick a wet finger in a socket rather than hear about another directive for dummies from our leaders.

So while it wasn't a world-shaping event, a familiar complaint about Scotland's cultural existence was voiced last week. I found myself ducking and diving on the steps of Edinburgh's Festival Theatre, as Scottish Ballet's Romeo And Juliet celebrated its opening night. This wasn't some last-minute pas-de-bas attempt to get pole position on the balcony, but rather one to get past protesters. Edinburgh Labour Party members were making the audience aware that – without consultation – the city's council had cut £40,000 from the national dance company's budget. According to Scottish Ballet this will result in its entire education programme in the capital being axed, and will also dent the resources it has for staging productions.

Last year, Scottish Ballet developed 28 outreach events involving 1,555 people and performed to more than 20,000. There's little doubt that it still has a long way to go before it can describe itself as equally as impressive as Scottish Opera in terms of its outreach work, but then it didn't have the kick up the artistic jacksie that our national opera company had after running up astronomical debts.

I empathise with Scottish Ballet if it feels that the way in which this decision has been made is savage, but given that the company received an increase of 4.4% in funding in the recent round, I hope it can pick its head up and continue to be inventive with its money pot.

What we don't want to see is another example of a national arts company defiantly programming work out of a sense of entitlement rather than one of financial logic. All that does is create public resentment, damage reputations and throw into doubt opportunities for future generations of artists to work and create in Scotland. Economically, and culturally, we need to be big enough to weather the storm. v

OUR WRITERS' WEEK

FIONA LEITH
ARTS EDITOR

Spent a highly enjoyable lunch in the company of the director-general and director of modern and contemporary for the National Galleries of Scotland. John Leighton and Simon Groom make a great pairing in their ability to personalise their appreciation and knowledge of the visual arts, in this case, as they discussed the Richter show, which arrives in November. Groom spoke to me with great passion and positivity about the future for the national collection, the Edinburgh Art Festival and the art community in the capital at large. I hope he's right.

SIOBHAN SYNNOT
FILM WRITER

I'm much enjoying Andy Dougan's Raising The Dead, a garrulous account of the science behind Frankenstein's art, including the work of Glasgow anatomist Andrew Ure, who startled the crowds by apparently resurrecting a hanged corpse with a battery.

It's also an illuminating social history of the city of Glasgow at a time when it had no established police force, the Glasgow Herald was a thrice-weekly single-sheet, and locals would pack into university halls 500 at a time to hear doctors lecture on science.

STUART KELLY
LITERARY EDITOR

I managed to take some time out from the Word book festival in the Granite City to go round the Aberdeen Art Gallery, and was impressed by what a wonderful collection it is. My selected highlights included an Ian Hamilton Finlay sculpture, Les Femmes de la Revolution,

Annie Cattrell's gorgeous cut paper work, and a haunting Ken Currie as well. In contrast, my wife's highlight appeared to be a picture of a skeletal Burns in the Steadman exhibition, which she said had my "looming owly eyes". I couldn't see the similarity.