A strange phenomenon (doo doo doo-doo doo) that happens with my music is that I feel embarrassed about it. Well, sort of. I know that what I make is art and there’s nothing shameful in it (except my older stuff…gee whiz…) but deep inside me there’s some bug that hates to tell (normal) people about what I do. And I know other artists can feel this way, too. I mean, I’ve met people who, when I’ve told them I’m an actor or a musician, I can tell by their demeanour that they don’t think it’s a sustainable job – which it probably isn’t, in their defence – and although this view is usually shared by those who are in an older demographic, it still hurts to not have the respect of or to be thought to be naïve by elders.

  I think that every musician or actor has a rocky start. There is that awkward in-between period of having finished study (or having performed your first gig, paid or unpaid) where you have to work a fricken’ normie job to earn money while you spend every other waking moment you’re not working on your passion. I’m still in this stage. I have made money from my art, but not much, and certainly not enough to cover the cost of it. That’s the trouble with big ideas in the arts. If you want to make a feature film, or to have music played by an orchestra, or to make a giant canvas, you have to have a massive budget of time and money, none of which you can have if you have three jobs.

  But I know that there is something wonderful about volunteering your gift. Singing in the street is something I do often (much to the disdain of friends or family who are walking with me). Playing public pianos. Volunteering to perform at variety nights (here’s looking at you, Smithscellaneous). Singing in a choir that I’m actually paying to be a part of. All these things are quite simple ways to bring just that extra bit of joy into the worlds of non-artists.

  I think more and more people are beginning to realise how essential art is. Thank God.