As a doctor, dance saved me from burnout. Here’s how I hope the arts can be supported more

Drawn to the sciences from an early age, choosing to study medicine and then work in healthcare was a straightforward choice to me.

Once I graduated from university and started my career, I became what’s known as an “essential worker”. After all, I serve a fundamental human necessity at the very base of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs: Taking care of people’s physical health and survival.

Work is often tough and hectic – never-ending throngs of sick people in the clinic, long hours at wards doing the rounds visiting cubicle after cubicle of patients, countless family members to update and exhausting overnight duties with not a wink of sleep.

During the peak of COVID-19, I worked at the National Centre for Infectious Diseases for over two years, battling the pandemic on the frontlines. Thankfully, essential workers were relatively well-supported through this demanding time.

There were always ready stocks of medical supplies, plenty of personal protective equipment to go around and ample facilities for showering and changing of clothes.

Like many of my fellow essential workers, I was given the COVID-19 Resilience Medal in recognition of my efforts in Singapore’s fight against the health crisis and my contribution to society.

A STINT IN THE ARTS

Renowned British educator Ken Robinson once appeared on TED Talks, the well-known influential videos from expert speakers on education, business, science and arts. 

In a top 10 most-watched session of the series, he postulated in his witty speech that thanks to the demands of the Industrial Revolution, a “hierarchy of subjects” was born in education: Mathematics, science and languages are placed at the top, while the arts are at the bottom rung. 

I’d always dabbled in the arts since childhood, picking up hobbies such as dance and music instruments like the piano throughout my schooling years. 

Yet, I recall that no educator or mentor – my own family included – would ever explicitly and intentionally steer me or my peers towards doing more creative, performing or visual art, even among those who showed more interest in these activities. 

Recently, I stumbled upon an unexpected opportunity to choreograph a dance piece for a dance studio where I took classes. 

Talking with the studio owner, I brought up a novel concept I’d been mulling over of late, of incorporating traditional Chinese dance moves with chair and pole choreography (her studio’s speciality). 

To my surprise, she was immediately supportive and encouraged me to work on it in collaboration with the studio. We both felt that such a project would allow students to learn a little about Chinese culture and heritage in an immersive, experiential way.

Instantly, my creative juices started to flow. Hours flew past in the studio as I figured out what worked and what did not, brainstorming on suitable themes and accompanying music, and discussing with the studio’s instructors on what might appeal to the audience. 

REDEFINING A “BAD DAY”

However, this experience also opened my eyes to the harsh realities of the arts scene.

In the midst of working on this choreography project, a nearby dance studio abruptly announced its impending closure on social media.

In the last few months, several dance studios in Singapore have also closed, including Pearl's Hill Studio and Sirene Studio. Others have downsized or moved to a more affordable but inaccessible location. 

Working for the first time as a provider of arts education rather than a recipient, it dawned on me in a new, stark way that to eke out a living in the arts scene is not easy at all.

In healthcare, a bad day is one characterised by too many patients in overcrowded clinics and hospitals. 

In contrast, a bad day at a dance studio is defined by insufficient sign-ups or cancelled classes, or other operational difficulties including hikes in rental costs.

In healthcare, if I put in 100 per cent in my work and simply perform my duties as required, my salary is all but guaranteed. I may get extra thanks, compliments or even, at times, an award. 

In dance, even if I were to put in 200 per cent, pushing myself to go the extra mile in all that I do, I still may not get a return proportionate to my effort. What’s more, what I produce may not even be well-received, subject to the tastes and preferences of individuals. 

A bad day working in healthcare means I need to get more rest, to prepare for tomorrow. A bad day for a dance studio means that there might be no tomorrow for the studio at all.

This doesn’t just apply to activities relating to dance and body movement; it includes other forms of art such as visual art and music.

ARE THE ARTS ESSENTIAL?

In his Budget speech on Feb 18, Prime Minister Lawrence Wong announced the SG Culture Pass. This pass gives eligible individuals S$100 of credits to attend performances, exhibitions, workshops and other cultural offerings. It can even be used to buy SingLit books – books written by Singapore authors.

At a ministerial town hall on Feb 21, Mr Edwin Tong, Minister for Culture, Community and Youth, further explained that “the arts and heritage are essential to our development as a nation”. 

Reading media reports on the town hall, I looked at photos of Mr Tong’s presentation. The word “essential” caught my eye.

It made me reflect on how vital and important the arts have been all throughout my life so far, particularly during tough times and seasons. 

Dance, especially, greatly helped me manage my mounting stress during the COVID-19 pandemic. Without it, I probably would have burnt out by now.

And I’m sure there are many others like me, who rely on the arts in one way or another to help them persevere in work recognised as “essential”. 

The SG Culture Pass will certainly help to support Singapore’s arts scene, and defray costs for the public in learning about and boosting appreciation of art in many forms.

However, it is my hope that future initiatives can be designed with a longer-term, more sustainable focus, to create an effect that will last beyond what S$100 can allow individuals to access. 

It would also be a boon for any future programmes to lend greater support to small arts businesses such as music, dance or art studios with only one or two owners. They are doing their part for the arts scene in ways that are perhaps not as visibly prominent or recognisable.

Student subsidies for approved programmes, for instance, could go a long way and so could assistance with rental fees during non-peak periods.

At the end of the day, we need to decide: Are the arts essential or not?

There can be no more debating it – the government itself has affirmed that the answer is yes.

Now that we’ve managed to regain much of the stability lost during COVID-19, it’s high time to channel more energies and resources towards prioritising the arts.

After all, humans are more than just bodies to be kept healthy and alive. Our hearts, minds and souls also need to be cared for and nourished. 
 
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Alvona Loh Zi Hui is a medical doctor in Singapore.

If you have an experience to share or know someone who wishes to contribute to this series, write to voices [at] mediacorp.com.sg with your full name, address and phone number.