Art and space: Creative infrastructure and cultural capital in Sydney,Australia

Abstract

Creative activity and cultural facilities are routinely touted as markers and facilitators of successful cities and societies. This view is underpinned by the assumption that they contribute to local economic growth, foster a positive city image, and enhance urban quality of life. Creativity and the consumption of art are also well established as markers of social and cultural status, while access to, and the physical distribution of, cultural resources are also embedded in, and reinforce, forms of social difference. Understanding the intersection of the social and the spatial in the consumption and distribution of culture is important to both cultural and urban sociology. Using Sydney, Australia, as a case study and drawing on the findings of a major national study of cultural consumption, the article engages with the influential work of Pierre Bourdieu on the reception of art and the differential propensity of various social classes to go to art galleries and to appreciate art, to highlight social and spatial concentrations and fault-lines in arts participation. It also points to important theoretical and empirical nuances, including a weakening of the nexus between socio-economic class and cultural consumption that is occurring at the same time as the links between forms of cultural capital – education and art consumption – appear to be strengthening.

Keywords

creative cities cultural capital cultural consumption

Major public cultural facilities are critical elements of the social and economic landscape of cities and regions. They are also often high-profile buildings which attract tourists and serve as markers of a city’s status as a ‘cultural capital’. Many contain within them creative or artistic works of considerable national and international acclaim. Symbolic factors, along with tourism, are routinely identified as the key reasons for supporting the building and continued operation of such facilities. And it is well established that the consumption of art is often as much or even more about the consumption of a particular iconic space or urban experience as it is about the art on display. In making this point, David Throsby (2006: 154) suggests that ‘prior information about the gallery and its urban setting substitutes for knowledge of art in determining … preference patterns’. The contribution of public cultural infrastructure to the public good may be mentioned as part of the rationale for funding, but it is usually no longer sufficient on its own to warrant support. In addition, these facilities are also rarely spaces of creative production, although this is more common at the local level where they may be elements of a broader community cultural development or social inclusion agenda (Stevenson, 2014). The link between high-profile public cultural facilities and a broader social and cultural agenda is thus both uneven and tenuous, a situation that is exacerbated by the physical locations of these facilities which invariably are in the major cities, and particularly their city centres, and by the profile of people who visit art galleries and museums and engage with their exhibitions. Exceptions with respect to location are often those cultural spaces housed in refurbished former industrial buildings, such as the Tate Modern in London, which may be located outside a city’s main commercial/cultural axis, although uncommonly in the suburbs. Much has been made over the last twenty years of the importance of locating cultural facilities in regional centres, but there has been less attention given to the city vis-a-vis the suburbs locational divide; and while local governments, in Australia and the United Kingdom at least, have strong records of resourcing small-scale galleries and other forms of cultural infrastructure, the flagship facilities, those funded substantially by state and national governments, are invariably in the city centre. They also continue to be regarded as socially exclusive and are under considerable pressure to be successful both in terms of finding alternative sources of funding and ensuring that attendance numbers are robust.

With reference to the work of Pierre Bourdieu on cultural capital and cultural consumption, this article draws on the findings of the Australian Cultural Fields project, a major study of cultural consumption in Australia, to consider the spatial and socio-demographic distribution of gallery attendance in Australia’s largest and most high-profile city, Sydney. The cultural and physical landscapes of contemporary Sydney differ from Paris in the 1960s in many critical respects, including, for instance, beyond its inner suburbs, Sydney is not densely populated. The city also continues to experience high overseas migration, and overall boasts high per capita income and housing prices relative to rural areas and other cities (Freestone et al., 2006). Despite prevalent income inequality, reinforced spatially by high variances in rental outlays across postal areas, like much of Australia, Sydney’s class divisions are less conspicuous than in European cities, particularly in areas of cultural appreciation. As we also note below, definitions of culture have shifted dramatically everywhere, and Sydney is no less at the vanguard of this redefining work than other contemporary ‘creative’ cities. Despite these evident changes in time and place, the enduring influence of Bourdieu’s analysis, both in framing theoretical discussions of cultural capital and in guiding empirical studies such as the Australian Cultural Fields project, warrant exploration of relationships between class and culture.

Against this background, this article argues that what is evident from the Australian Cultural Fields data is that, while there has been a noticeable weakening of the link between socio-economic factors and cultural consumption, levels of education continue to be decisive. It also suggests that density, rather than proximity, appears to be a stronger spatial feature of cultural consumption patterns, implying the singular clustering of cultural institutions is less important than their embeddedness within comparatively dense hubs across the city. The article thus contributes to broader debates regarding culture, class and the city, which are important concerns of contemporary urban and cultural sociology. It is necessary first to frame the analysis with a discussion of influential debates associated with art, culture and city.

Cities, creativity, centralisation

The idea of the ‘creative city’, and the effectiveness or otherwise of successfully using culture and the arts in urban development and city imaging strategies in order to support local communities and economies, have been much discussed in the academic literature (see, for example, Markusen and Gadwa, 2010; Stevenson, 2014; see also contributions to Anheier and Isar, 2012; Grodach and Silver, 2013; and Young and Stevenson, 2013). There is little to be gained from rehearsing these debates here, suffice to say that since the late 1970s/early 1980s, the idea that culture has a productive role to play in fostering local amenity, and social, cultural and economic development has gained considerable currency in cities around the world. Influential in promoting this view have been such works as Geoff Mulgan and Ken Worpole’s Saturday Night or Sunday Morning: From Arts to Industry – New Forms of Cultural Policy (1986), Charles Landry and Franco Bianchini’s The Creative City (1995), and Landry’s (2002) ‘creative city toolkit’. Advocacy for the creative city received a considerable boost in the early 21st century with the publication of the high-profile, but much challenged, work of Richard Florida (2003), which focused on the ‘creative class’ and their supposed contribution to cities and urban societies. The creative city soon came to be seen as where the creative class resides and the creative economy thrives. Indeed, the creative city, the creative class and the creative economy fused to inform contemporary practice and hegemonic perspectives as well as being key factors embedding economic concerns at the centre of urban cultural policy. At the same time, it became increasingly important to blur the boundary between art and entertainment, to unpick established cultural hierarchies and their underpinning rationale. The result is that cultural policy is often an ambitious and highly compromised endeavour that is also positioned as capable of addressing a range of oft-competing agendas and objectives that extend way beyond the arts. Particularly enticing has been the idea that urban cultural policy and planning can address many of the seemingly intractable problems confronting cities experiencing deindustrialisation and, more recently, financial decline. Most local governments in the United Kingdom now have cultural planning strategies and in Australia it is a similar story. Elsewhere, such as in the United States, cities without formal cultural plans invariably have a creative city or placemaking strategy.

Despite their popularity, there is considerable evidence that far from being a panacea for a range of social, spatial and economic problems, creative cities approaches are deeply implicated in the creation of enclaves of exclusivity and spaces for middle-class consumption (Harvey, 2000; McGuigan, 1996), while Florida’s formula for measuring and attracting the ‘creative class’ as the basis of city reimaging and cultural industry development clearly has a middle-class bias and can readily be read as a prescription for gentrification and displacement (Stevenson, 2014) – the new divided city. The clustering that drives a creative industries agenda also separates and divides cities and societies. Nevertheless, local governments around the world have been eager to embrace ‘creative cities’ approaches either in response to pressure from regional, national and (in the case of Europe and many cities in the global South) supra-state bodies, or because they have been persuaded by the ‘success’ of exemplar ‘creative cities’. Increasingly, too, as the focus on the economic potential of culture and creativity intensifies, the expectation that cultural production, consumption and infrastructure will be innovative and commercially successful has become an orthodoxy (Pratt and Jeffcutt, 2009).

Well established within the fractured discourses of cultural planning is the view that iconic flagship facilities, and particularly those designed by a globally renowned architect (‘starchitect’), can be major tourist attractions, and positive markers and drivers of a city’s success and status as a ‘cultural capital’. The much-referenced example is the Frank Gehry designed Guggenheim Museum in the Spanish city of Bilbao (Plaza, 2000), but there are other less high-profile cases. Such facilities may be publicly or privately owned, although the situation of publicly funded cultural facilities and infrastructure within the policy conception of the creative city, is highly vexed. Indeed, there is a view that, as subsidised facilities, they are neither innovative nor particularly creative although, with the hegemony of the creative industries, many are now attempting to define themselves as such (Selwood, 2009). Major public galleries, for instance, stage blockbuster exhibitions and other initiatives intended to raise money and attract a broader audience. Tensions between the economic viability of facilities and their contribution to the wider public good generate issues of access and equity, and these socio-economic fault-lines take very marked geographical form. Not only are there significant differences between major cities and the regions with respect to the possession or otherwise of cultural infrastructure, but there are also considerable differences within cities, as discussed above, because major cultural facilities are routinely located in, or close to, the city centre. Such ‘locational disadvantage’ maps onto broader debates about the relationship between social class and cultural consumption.

The art of access

In a 1966 work entitled The Love of Art, Pierre Bourdieu and Alain Darbel (1991) analysed the social and historical factors shaping significant class differences in art gallery attendance in France and found that the ‘proportion of the different socio-economic categories in the French museum public is almost exactly the inverse of their proportion in the total population’ (1991: 15). These proportions were as follows: 1% were farmers; 4% were industrial workers; 5% were craft workers and tradespeople; 23% were clerical workers and ‘junior executives’, including school teachers; and 45% were classified as being from the ‘upper classes’. To a considerable extent, these results confirm the widespread view that the consumption of art (often measured through gallery attendance) is closely connected with class and education, and what Bourdieu calls ‘cultural capital’. Bourdieu (2010) further asserts that the capacity to discriminate between ‘high’ and popular artforms, and attribute differential value, are not unmediated matters of personal taste but, in advanced capitalist societies, ascribed and learned in ways that make them appear ‘natural’. In other words, the seemingly unconscious ease with which some people accumulate and display cultural capital both structures, and is structured by, social relations, while the associated ability to make ‘valid’ aesthetic judgements is a marker and justification of social power.

So, the appreciation or understanding of art, according to Bourdieu, is not intuitive and a work of art does not commend itself as ‘Art’ through the obviousness of its inherent excellence; rather, understanding (‘appreciating’) art requires a social language or set of interpretative tools. The broader point being that these differences in taste are the outcome of fundamental differences of class and education. As Bourdieu and Darbel (1991: 54) put it, ‘the love of art is not love at first sight but is born of long familiarity’. They illustrate this claim with a quote from one of their working-class respondents who says, ‘Yes, love at first sight does exist, but for that you’ve got to have read stuff before, especially for modern painting’ (1991: 55). Similarly, Bennett et al. (2009), in a study influenced by the work of Bourdieu, which investigated the social organisation of taste in the United Kingdom, found that ‘more than half of the main sample (55%) never go to an art gallery. Nearly 30% report going once a year or less and only 15% go several times a year or more.’ Mike Savage (2015: 103), while warning against relying too heavily on Bourdieu’s claims regarding cultural consumption and cultural capital because ‘cultural capital has changed its form’, acknowledges that contemporary ‘cultural tastes carry with them a loaded set of signifiers’ (2015: 101). He suggests that key intersecting factors are: legitimacy, and the ease and confidence that stem from the belief that one’s cultural tastes are legitimate. Importantly, too, Savage highlights that engaging with publicly supported cultural facilities and activities make important contributions to the development of a sense of certainty regarding what is and is not ‘authentic’ cultural taste.

From an analysis of the institutionalisation of ‘high art’ in nineteenth-century Boston, Paul Di Maggio (1983a) probes the historical basis of the institutional arrangements that legitimate and give meaning to the contemporary aesthetic distinctions described by Bourdieu and others. He argues that the local elite (‘the Boston Brahmins’) consciously established a cultural organisational framework that differentiated and separated the production and consumption of high art from more popular forms of entertainment. Of particular note, was the founding of the Museum of Fine Art and the Boston Symphony Orchestra, which, he suggests, were overt expressions of social and economic power and status – a tactic for delineating social boundaries. Critical were ‘three concurrent, but analytically distinct, projects’: classification, framing and entrepreneurship (Di Maggio, 1983b: 457). By classification, he means the division of cultural practices into discrete categories of art and entertainment. Framing refers to the ‘development of … a new relationship between the audience and the work of art’ (1983b: 457), whereby protocols are cultivated for the appreciation and consumption of art involving the establishment of an accepted aesthetic distance between the audience and the artwork. To return to Bourdieu, this new relationship assumes that in order to appreciate ‘art’, consumers must possess, or have the ability to acquire, the requisite specialist (valid) knowledge and interpretative frames. Finally, in Di Maggio’s schema, entrepreneurship is said to have involved the establishment of private, not-for-profit organisations and institutions intended to support the production and consumption of high art. He argues that the cultural elite administered these institutions which played a crucial part in giving meaning to the aesthetic classification of high art.

While the details vary, there are overlaps with the situation in Australia where an entrepreneurial local cultural elite set up and administered specialist arts institutions and organisations as well as being influential in the establishment of public cultural facilities (Stevenson, 2000). Equally, too, the support of the different levels of government in Australia has been pivotal to the development of an organisational structure for the production and legitimisation of ‘art’. This support has involved providing subsidies for the establishment and operation of a range of non-profit high cultural institutions and facilities, including art galleries. Directly and indirectly, therefore, it has been the actions and interventions of both governments and elites that have shaped the landscapes of culture in Australia, including determining the location of facilities. For Brendan Gleeson (2005), the lack of funding and governmental support given to public museums located in the suburbs means that they are struggling financially and the communities they service are ‘impoverished’. He argues for the ‘suburbanisation of museums’ for two reasons; first, because they should be ‘more accessible to, and in sympathy with, the lifeworlds of the bulk of Australians who live in suburban landscapes’; and, second, ‘because they are a critical potential element in a revived suburban public realm, a social space that is needed to strengthen the bonds of citizenship in the heartlands of Australian life’ (2005: 15). Implicit, too, is the view that the bulk of a city’s population are effectively cut off from major cultural facilities because they live in the sprawling suburbs of the city which, not uncommonly, are a considerable distance from the city. This is an argument that gained considerable currency recently with respect to the situation and provision of public cultural infrastructure in Australia’s largest city and capital of the state of New South Wales, Sydney.

Australian cities of culture

Australia has been at the forefront internationally of the development of creative cities focused urban cultural policy, while Richard Florida’s work continues to be influential in informing practice at the local government level. This embrace has not only occurred in the nation’s major cities, notably Sydney and Melbourne, but also in regional cities such as Newcastle (Stevenson, 1999), and Geelong (Johnson, 2010), as well as more rural and remote locations (Gibson et al., 2015). Indeed, most local governments in Australia are actively engaged with the rhetoric if not the practice of using arts and culture in some way in attempts to build economically, socially and culturally vibrant and sustainable towns, cities and regions (Stevenson, 2014). Most, too, support municipal libraries, art galleries and local history museums, as well as other community-focused cultural spaces. In the larger non-metropolitan cities, the facilities, although provided by a single local government, will often have a regional remit and many seek state government subsidies as a result. In country towns and the suburbs of the major cities, however, the focus is much more local, while high-profile public cultural facilities – those deemed to be of state and national significance – are, in almost every case, physically located in the major cities and, as Gleeson (2005) has noted, very few of these facilities are in the suburbs of these cities. The privately owned Museum of Old and New Art (MONA) in Hobart, Tasmania is a notable exception (Franklin, 2014), as is the Casula Powerhouse Arts Centre, which is situated in the Western Sydney suburb of Liverpool. But such exceptions highlight the level of concentration that there is, and raise related questions about the relationship between space, access and cultural consumption, including patterns of attendance and the socio-economic profile of attendees.

Not only is Sydney the location of the nation’s most recognisable built iconography, notably the Sydney Harbour Bridge and the Sydney Opera House, but, as a state capital, it also has that state’s most high-profile public cultural facilities, including the Art Gallery of NSW, the Australian Museum, the Museum of Sydney, and the Museum of Contemporary Art. Without exception, these facilities are located in, or near, the symbolic and commercial heart of the city and in close proximity to Sydney Harbour. The city centre and its neighbouring suburbs are also the sites of many of the most significant private art galleries, including the White Rabbit gallery in inner Chippendale. As of 30 June 2016, the estimated population of Greater Sydney topped 5 million, with approximately 53% of the population living in the sprawling western suburbs (ABS, 2017). Mirroring the nationwide pattern of growth around the urban fringe, those suburbs also feature Sydney’s two fastest growing areas: Cobbitty-Leppington in the outer south-west, and Riverstone-Marsden Park in the north-west (ABS, 2017). Sydney is thus a highly suburbanised city but, as stated above, while there are public cultural facilities in its suburbs, most are small community art galleries or local history museums owned and operated by local government. This lack of facilities has recently been confirmed by both a study of cultural production in Western Sydney (Stevenson et al., 2017) and major survey of cultural venues and infrastructure in Sydney (Ang et al., 2016). Similarly, a 2015 Deloitte’s report into arts and culture in Western Sydney found that: ‘Western Sydney represents 1 in 10 Australians yet attracts only 1% of Commonwealth arts program funding, and 5.5% of the States Cultural Arts, heritage and events funding’ (2015: 9). When in 2014, the then-NSW premier, Mike Baird announced that the Powerhouse Museum, owned by the state government, would be ‘moving’ from its current located in a converted power station in inner Ultimo to Parramatta in the city’s western suburbs, the stated rationale was to ameliorate the lack of cultural resources and facilities in the west, or as Premier Baird reportedly put it: ‘I have a view that we need to do more culturally in western Sydney.… All of the dollars are pretty much spent in the city, so we certainly need to look at opportunities’ (McKenny and Taylor, 2014: n.p.).

With the announcement of the Powerhouse move, the spatially divided cultural landscape became a subject of considerable discussion. There were many, predominantly in the western suburbs, who agreed with the premier and supported the move while others argued that it should be possible to establish a major cultural institution in Western Sydney without having to close one in the city’s east (see, for instance, Farrelly, 2016). Perhaps most telling though were the comments, usually heard on talkback radio, suggesting that the residents of Western Sydney have little or no interest in attending cultural facilities and, therefore, the museum should remain where it is so the people of the eastern suburbs would not have to travel to the city’s west. The assumptions implicit in this view clearly point to a geography of taste and cultural consumption that is structured (at least at the level of imagination and stereotype) by social class and cultural capital, revealing the existence of deep tensions and entrenched attitudes that warrant examination and are the starting point for our analysis, which, following Bourdieu, is focused on attendance at metropolitan art galleries.

Methodology

Our intention in this article is not to examine venue visitor data or to track the movement of people across the space in pursuit of cultural products. Rather, focusing on the city of Sydney and in an exploratory analysis informed by the work of Bourdieu, we consider the spatial patterns of taste, class and culture. This analysis is conducted by combining several Australian Cultural Fields data sets that measure and compare patterns of cultural consumption, socio-economic status, and two spatial variables – population density and proximity to the central business districts (CBDs) – of a sample of Sydney residents. The spatial unit of analysis is the postal area defined by the Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS) as an ‘approximation of Australia Post postcodes’, selected due to its correspondence to the level of analysis reported in the two other surveys discussed below. The selection of density and proximity variables helps to straddle the dilemma posed above: if indeed only those living in Sydney’s centre and eastern suburbs wish to attend art galleries, proximity to the central business district (CBD) ought to be a strong predictor. Given the intensification of suburban hubs and satellite cities, and – as noted with the Casula Powerhouse – some degree of cultural infrastructure now residing in those areas, a relationship between attendance and density would lend some support to consumption now becoming reoriented around Sydney’s increasing poly-nucleated urban form.

First, we examine patterns of artistic consumption through a consideration of the Sydney respondents to an Australian-wide survey of cultural taste, knowledge and practices that was conducted as part of the project. This survey was administered in 2015 through computer-aided telephone interviews with 1202 Australians by Sampleworx, using random digit dialing,¹ with results adjusted against ABS 2011 census data for age, state and gender. Respondents were asked questions relating to their practice, knowledge and taste of six cultural fields: television, sport, music, heritage, literature, and visual art. We concentrate upon responses to three questions about practices relating to visual arts. These are listed below, with variable name followed by the question as asked by the interviewer:

[Gallery_Visit_Frequency] How often do you go to art galleries?

[Gallery_Visit_Type] I’m going to read out a list of locations and could you please tell me, using a ‘yes’ or ‘no’, if you have visited any of the following in the past year:

The National Gallery of Australia

A state art gallery

A regional art gallery

A university art gallery

A commercial art gallery

A museum of contemporary art

A public art display or installation

An Australian or international arts festival or biennale

[Online_Arts_Participation] Again, using a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer, have you used the internet for any of the following purposes in the past 12 months?

To research or find out more about an artist or arts event;

To visit the website of an artist or arts organisation;

To read a blog or email newsletter by an artist or arts organisation;

To comment on art or an arts organisation using social media.

Responses to Gallery_Visit_Frequency are ordered from ‘Once a week or more’ to ‘Never’, while Gallery_Visit_Type and Online_Arts_Participation are comprised of eight and four dichotomous variables respectively, which are coded (‘Yes’ = 1; ‘No’ = 0) and summed to generate ordinal scales. Gallery_Visit_Frequency, Gallery_Visit_Type and Online_Arts_Participation are further normalised and aggregated to produce an overall measure of cultural consumption, Art_Consumption.

The number of respondents from the total survey sample who registered living in a Greater Sydney postcode numbered 164. With 260 postcodes in Greater Sydney, many do not contain any respondents, while several are over-represented. Table 1 summarises instead the distribution of respondents by distance of the postcode’s centre from the CBD, bracketed by 10 km in all but the last case. These reflect approximately equal clusters, with slightly larger numbers of respondents living 10–30 km from the CBD, in line with density concentrations discussed below. As shown by the comparison with number of postal areas (measured by their centroids), and aggregated postal area populations, those living 0–10 km from the CBD are slightly under-represented, while those living 40–50 km from the CBD are significantly over-represented in our sample. Tabulating average densities in a similar way produces similar results with respect to clustering, though with greater representation of postcodes featuring high rather than low density.

Table 1.

Total survey respondents, number of postcodes and approximate population, by distance from Sydney’s CBD.

Distance from the CBD	Total respondents	Number of postcodes	Population 2016 (000s)
0–10 km	28	69	1076
10–20 km	37	68	1293
20–30 km	34	41	1031
30–40 km	20	28	532
40–50 km	20	16	240
50–100 km	25	38	645

The CATI (computer-assisted telephone interviewing) approach to survey administration has limitations, many of which are well acknowledged in the literature. Parts of the population may either not have a phone, use answering services, screen for unknown caller IDs, or refuse unsolicited calls (Sarasua and Meyer, 1996). For this survey response rates of 5.18% were low, although, as Visser et al. (1996) have noted, rates do not always correlate with quality of responses. While the survey’s purpose might mean that respondents with strong engagement in the cultural sector are more likely to agree to participate, the questionnaire script introduces ‘culture’ in terms that span a wide variety of Australian interests: ‘we want to find out what people like and dislike on television, the kinds of arts, sports and music they enjoy, what they like to read and what their heritage interests are’. The survey’s definitional breadth therefore lessens the likelihood that frequent art goers are especially over-represented in the sample. Responses to variables relating to the visual arts do not therefore necessarily reflect a tendency to agree to participate on the basis of topical interest, but nor can that possibility be ruled out. Finally, as the number of postal areas (260) is greater than the number of Sydney-based respondents to our survey, many have no results. Partly due to this limitation, our interpretation of postal area level data focuses on spatial tendencies rather than specific postcodes.

We also employ geospatial, population density and socio-economic data, obtained from the Australian Bureau of Statistics 2011 census data. Geospatial data is taken from the ABS ‘1270.0.55.003 – Australian Statistical Geography Standard (ASGS): Volume 3 – Non ABS Structures, July 2011’, which provides postal area boundaries in GIS format (ABS, 2016). Population density is measured in 1 km² blocks, obtained from Australian Population Grid 2015–16 (ABS, 2017). Coordinates of these blocks are correlated with those of postal area codes, also supplied by the ABS (ABS, 2014), and values are then averaged to provide postal area estimated densities. Socio-economic data is derived from the ABS Socio-economic Indexes for Areas (SEIFA) data (ABS, 2013), which are already reported at postal area levels.

To illustrate the various spatial distributions of each data set, we plot a series of mean values for postal areas onto a map of the Greater Sydney region. These values include the four measures of visual art (Figure 1); Greater Sydney density and logged density (Figures 2 and 3); and each of the four SEIFA index scores, by both raw score and deciles (Figures 4 and 5). These summarise, respectively, the spatial distribution of visual art preferences, population densities and socio-economic distribution. Population density is included since it may have a significant relationship to patterns of artistic consumption in its own right, and also because, as Figures 2 and 3 show, it may act as a confound to the presence or absence of any relationship between consumption and distance from the CBD. Sydney’s outer areas contain areas of comparatively high population concentrations with corresponding urban centres or hubs, particularly in its western (Parramatta, Penrith) and south-western (Bankstown, Liverpool) corridors. These frequently house alternative art galleries and other cultural venues for people seeking to consume art. Density acts, then, as an additional and possibly corrective spatial measure to CBD proximity, and both variables are included in our subsequent analysis of relationships.

Figure 1.

Australian Cultural Fields consumption of art, by postal areas.

Figure 2.

Greater Sydney area population density, averaged by postal area.

Figure 3.

Greater Sydney area population density (logged), averaged by postal area.

Figure 4.

Socio-economic Indexes for Areas (SEIFA) postal area scores, including (a) IRSD, (b) IRSAD; (c) IEO and (d) IER.

Figure 5.

Socio-economic Indexes for Areas (SEIFA) postal area deciles, including (a) IRSD, (b) IRSAD; (c) IEO and (d) IER.

We also conducted two kinds of exploratory correlation tests in order to explore any relationships between these three sets of variables. The first, ‘individual’ exploratory test, identifies pair-wise correlations between individual responses to the four measures of visual art and to questions asking participants to self-report class, age, level of education, household income and savings. We include spatial variables of mean postal area population density, and distance from the Sydney CBD, taken as the ‘2000’ postal area. Given the observations above relating to the apparent relevance of the east–west axis, we also tested distances from the centre of the postal area to the CBD along north–south and east–west axes (dist.cbd.long and dist.cbd.lat). These correlations are then plotted (Figure 6) and tabled (Table 2) to identify strong positive and negative relationships. We also conduct and report on t-test results for the same four measures to check for gender differences.

Figure 6.

Correlations of Australian Cultural Fields individual survey responses and associated postal area spatial data (averaged).

Table 2.

Correlations of Australian Cultural Fields aggregated art consumption data, SEIFA indexes and spatial data at the postal area level; correlations that are statistically significant are indicated with asterisks (* - p < 0.05; ** - p < 0.01; *** - p < 0.001).

	Art consumption	Gallery frequency	Gallery types	Internet	Class	Age	Education	Income	Savings	Density
Art consumption
Gallery frequency	0.87***
Gallery types	0.89***	0.79***
Internet	0.86***	0.58***	0.59***
Class	0.14	0.18*	0.13	0.09
Age	−0.15	0.00	−0.10	−0.25**	0.35***
Education	0.33***	0.31***	0.32***	0.26**	0.34***	−0.11
Income	0.19*	0.11	0.20*	0.16	0.14	−0.31***	0.15
Savings	−0.01	0.08	0.01	−0.08	0.28***	0.41***	0.17	0.38***
Density	0.17*	0.13	0.14	0.16*	0.09	−0.04	−0.02	0.15	−0.05
Distance CBD	−0.06	−0.02	−0.10	−0.03	−0.11	0.00	−0.11	−0.21*	−0.02	−0.71***

The second, ‘aggregate’ exploration tests for relationships between mean survey values for the same four measures and SEIFA indexes as well as, again, mean postal area population densities and distance from the CBD. This second test acts to explore whether postal area mean responses correlate with SEIFA measures, collected by the ABS and taken here as proxies for class. If these correlations echo those found through the individual-level analysis, this would suggest some generalisability of the sample results. As we discuss below, in several cases this seems to be the case. Again, all correlations are plotted (Figure 7) and tabled (Table 3).

Figure 7.

Correlations of Australian Cultural Fields aggregated art consumption data, SEIFA indexes and spatial data at the postal area level.

Table 3.

	Art consumption	Gallery frequency	Gallery types	Internet	ISRD	ISRAD NB	IEO	IER	Density	Distance CBD(long.)?	Distance CBD (lat.)
Art consumption
Gallery frequency	0.87***
Gallery types	0.91***	0.78***
Internet	0.87***	0.60***	0.63***
ISRD	0.18	0.20*	0.23*	0.07
ISRAD	0.18	0.20*	0.24*	0.07	0.98***
IEO	0.28**	0.29**	0.33***	0.16	0.78***	0.85***
IER	0.00	0.04	0.05	−0.06	0.78***	0.75***	0.32***
Density	0.28**	0.20*	0.25*	0.28**	−0.01	0.07	0.46***	−0.48***
Distance CBD	−0.14	−0.05	−0.19*	−0.12	−0.21***	−0.32***	−0.57***	0.13*	−0.69***
Distance CBD (lat.)	−0.12	−0.11	−0.16	−0.06	0.01	−0.08	−0.32***	0.22***	−0.58***	0.70***
Distance CBD (long.)	−0.12	−0.02	−0.16	−0.11	−0.27***	−0.36***	−0.55***	0.03	−0.56***	0.88***	0.29***

In both sets of exploratory correlations, we interpret artistic consumption having any positive relationships with class variables as suggestively supporting a Bourdieusian class analysis of culture. We also interpret artistic consumption having any positive relationship with density or any negative relationship with distance as similarly suggestive of theories of creative class clustering. The merit of the spatial analysis is that specific area divergences also illustrate complications to these propositions, and we discuss what these might mean for a more nuanced reading and understanding of Sydney’s cultural consumption and production patterns.

Consuming art in Sydney

Cultural consumption

Figure 1 shows means weighted (by age and gender) for each of the three measures of cultural consumption obtained from the Australian Cultural Fields survey, as well as for their combination as Art_Consumption. As the number of Sydney survey respondents (164) is less than the number of postal areas (260), many areas contain no data and are marked grey. For consistency across the pairs of three variables, scales are normalised to percentiles.

Gallery visits (Gallery_Visit_Frequency) appear evenly distributed across Sydney. However the more detailed variable scoring types of galleries (Gallery_Visit_Type) shows greater concentration in inner Sydney and the Blue Mountains. The measure of online arts participation (Online_Arts_Participation) shows comparative high use in Sydney’s periurban regions, in Hawkesbury to the north and Campbelltown to the south, while central western suburbs exhibit relatively little use of the internet for finding out about art.

Population density

Figures 2 and 3 show Sydney’s population density, and the density logged, in order to contrast areas of greater and lesser concentrations. Quite clearly shown is the importance of the city’s east–west axis, extending along Parramatta river, the Western train line, Parramatta Road/Great Western Highway and the M4 motorway, and the subordinate sout–west axis, extending to Cabramatta and Liverpool. Figure 2 also shows the very high concentrations of residents in and around the central business district, which includes Australia’s two highest 1 km² population concentrations of 15,346 in Pyrmont-Ultimo and 13,985 in Potts Point-Woolloomooloo (ABS, 2017).

Socio-economic Indexes for Areas

ABS’s 2011 Socio-economic Indexes for Areas (SEIFA) are reported in four indexes:

the Index of Relative Socio-economic Disadvantage (IRSD)

the Index of Relative Socio-economic Advantage and Disadvantage (IRSAD)

the Index of Education and Occupation (IEO)

the Index of Economic Resources (IER) (see ABS, 2013).

Figures 4 and 5 show Sydney’s results for each index by score and by decile. Each shows a broadly similar spatial pattern: high levels of advantage in inner, northern and coastal Sydney; weak comparative disadvantage in the periurban areas of the Central Coast heading toward Newcastle in the north, the Blue Mountains in the west, and Campbelltown in the south; and distinct pockets of disadvantage in central west and south-western suburbs, corresponding to a rough triangle cornered by Merrylands, Lakemba and Liverpool.

Art consumption: space, class, gender and age

For the first of the two exploratory analyses, Figure 6 and Table 2 show size, direction and significance of correlations between our measures of art consumption, self-reported demographic variables, variables from the Australian Cultural Fields survey and the two spatial measures.

Scores for gallery visits, types of galleries visited and use of the internet to find out about art correlate strongly with each other, and consequently with the derived score of all three, Art_Consumption. Similarly postal area distance from the CBD correlates negatively and strongly with density (r = -.71; p < .001), and more weakly, with income (r = -.21; p <.01), but not to any of the art consumption variables. However, density does correlate positively with all four measures of art consumption, and this correlation is statistically significant in the case of use of the internet and overall consumption. Distance from the Sydney CBD does not, however, correlate with any of these measures, which suggests that while art consumption practices are weakly associated with built-up areas, they are not dependent upon how close these areas are to the city’s centre. Age correlates negatively with use of the internet: young people are more likely to go online to find out about art. There is a moderate relationship between income and both overall art consumption (r = .19; p <.05) and breadth of art venues visited (r = .20; p <.05), while education appears the best predictor of all measures of art consumption (r = .26 ~ .33; p <.01). The class model, based largely upon occupation, correlates more strongly with gallery attendance than types of galleries, and surprisingly, although improved class standing corresponds with age and education, it correlates only modestly well with income.

In addition, we undertook four t-tests to check for differences in art consumption between men and women. There were no significant differences in the scores; the largest difference was for the range of gallery types visited, t(157.83) = 1.18, p = .24, with men attending a smaller range than women.

For the second analysis, Figure 7 and Table 3 show size, direction and significance of correlations between the means of the same measures of consumption, and the four SEIFA index values and the spatial measures of density and distance from the CBD, aggregated at postal areas. Distances along north–south and east–west axes (dist.cbd.long and dist.cbd.lat) are included as well, to examine whether direction of distance proved relevant.

Again, the variables within art consumption and spatial sets correlate strongly, and the SEIFA indexes also correlate with each other. Education, measured by the SEIFA IEO, also relates strongly with all art consumption variables (r = .28 ~ .33, p < .01) except for internet use, which is positive but not statistically significant (r = .16, p = n.s.). Density correlations are also statistically significant (p < .05). Results for measures of distance from the CBD, both in any direction, as well as in north–south and east–west directions, implies that art consumption declines with distance. However only one of these relationships is statistically significant: overall distance from the CBD and diversity of galleries visited (r = -.19, p < .05). Meanwhile, distance from the CBD, both overall and especially in the east–west direction, correlates strongly with SEIFA measures of disadvantage (both IRSD and IRSAD) and lower education / occupation standing.

Discussion

As noted above, in his 1960s study of art gallery attendance in France, Bourdieu was able to describe a precise negative relationship between the class membership of the art museum-going public and that of the total population. Whether determined by income, savings or occupation standing, our exploratory results suggest that class exhibits a more muted correspondence to the consumption of art in Sydney in the 2010s. What stands out as significant, however, is education. According to both the individual and postal area aggregate results there is a clear relationship between levels of education and cultural consumption, with greater levels of schooling corresponding to a greater likelihood of regularly attending diverse types of galleries and, to a lesser degree, using the internet to find out about art. These findings on the one hand confirm high collinearity between these two types of Bourdieusian cultural capital – education and artistic consumption – while at the same time suggesting a degree of decoupling between cultural consumption/cultural capital and economic capital in Sydney. What these findings, albeit tentatively, point to is a change in the structure of wealth in contemporary society, including the relationship between income and education. Indeed, the ‘massificiation’ of education and the increasing size of the middle class mean an increase in the number of people who are highly educated but not necessarily highly paid; in our sample, education did correlate positively with both income and proximity to the CBD, but the relationship was weak and not statistically significant. At the same time, in the years since Bourdieu undertook his research there has been a substantial increase in the number of women who are both educated and in employment, which has also been a factor in shifting the relationship between education and socio-economic status. It is also well established that women, and educated women in particular, are active consumers of art (Katz-Gerro, 2002). While our sample did not show gender to be significant for any of the four measures, even when controlling for education level, it is possible that a wider range of variables might show greater differences.

Our spatial analysis further complicates attribution of Sydney’s artistic consumption. We note in both analyses a consistent and unsurprising relationship with density: highly dense areas are likely to contain a greater number of galleries and other artistic venues per person, and greater access by public as well as private transport. Indeed, with respect to the availability of art, inhabitants of Sydney’s inner suburbs likely benefit from the characteristics Landry (2002: xlvii) identifies in other so-called ‘creative cities’ being ‘walkable, accessible and networked’. Equally, areas with less walkability and accessibility nonetheless exhibit high levels of art consumption. Examples include the Blue Mountains, and to a lesser degree some areas along the Western train line that connect them to the CBD along Sydney’s east–west axis. While the measure of distance along this axis does correlate negatively with artistic consumption overall, this trend is not statistically significant. Nor is it as strong as the correlations with most SEIFA measures, where Western Sydney suffers considerably lower scores than other areas of the city. According to our data, its inhabitants are not deprived to the same degree with respect to their consumption of art. From our sample, living in dense areas, rather than close proximity to Sydney’s CBD, appears a more reliable predictor of art gallery interest and attendance.

Conclusion

Culture has long been viewed as integral, not only to a city’s wider reputational value, but also to its long-term economic growth and performance. At the same time, however, the consumption of culture, as argued in the work of Bourdieu and others, is marked by strong class distinctions, often writ large and reinforced by the spatial zoning of relative wealth and poverty within cities. Such analyses have been furthered in the specific field of cultural economics, which intend to offer calibrated analyses of the value of cultural goods (see for example Throsby, 2003). Our data and findings neither engage with such debates within this field, nor do they directly contradict Bourdieusian ideas of distinction, in which cultural tastes emulate and reproduce class division, and the enthusiasm for establishing cultural infrastructure and supporting the so-called creative class in ways that lead to clustered, highly condensed and intensified inner urban centres. They do, however, suggest that, at least in Sydney, and most likely in other Australian cities, the spatial diffusion of artistic consumption does not transparently mirror proximity to the CBD or key indicators of socio-economic advantage or class. In our sample, age, gender and, in particular, education are confounding factors. But, in addition, we note that the spatial logic of the city of Sydney itself may introduce variations to the alignment of art consumption and class noted in Bourdieu’s (2010) or Bennett et al.’s (2009) nation-level analyses of France and the United Kingdom: poor, outer urban but comparatively dense areas with highly educated residents are also likely – if not quite as likely – to enjoy access to and patronage of the visual arts.

Further work is required to make sense of the shifting patterns of artistic consumption of Sydney, which will include looking at patterns evident in both the national data as well as in cities such as Melbourne. In particular, the correlation of artistic consumption with urban density raises further questions regarding which institutions people are visiting – for instance are they those located at local centres, or those more high-profile facilities located in and around the CBD – and therefore how far are people prepared to travel. The weak correlation with class we found in our study of Sydney supports the view that a more complex set of relations now exists between class, age, ethnicity, gender, education, urban form and distribution, and gallery and museum attendance than may previously have been the case. In addition, for reasons of space and compatibility with other studies, the Australian Cultural Fields survey offers a deliberately constrained spatial interpretation of art. In a large contemporary and multicultural city, galleries are only one of the many spaces where art is experienced and consumed; a wider survey might include streetscapes, libraries, schools, shopping centres, cafes, religious buildings, public transport and community centres. Equally, questions about internet use are also needed to probe habits of consuming digital media that now combine conventional art with games, video and apps. Areas such as the Blue Mountains, with a high concentration of artistic producers, and the south-western corridor from Parramatta to Liverpool, with poor scores on socio-economic measures but high cultural diversity, might show greater numbers of art consumers given more generous definitions and measures of both art and space.

The prevalence and diversity of the experience of art is partly definitional of the ‘creative city’, and yet are poorly reflected in conventional measures of cultural capital. This includes statistics gathered at a national level by, for instance, the ABS Attendance at Selected Cultural Venues and Events (ABS, 2015), which suffer similar limitations to those we note in our own study. These traditional measures remain relevant with respect to funding: informal spaces are far less likely to receive funding comparable to formal spaces that have recognised art curatorial and pedagogical roles. Spatial distribution of art consumption can act as an additional fillip to urban cultural policy development, suggesting not only the need for investment in additional venues and facilities, both community and more high-profile ones, but also accompanying promotion of arts education and recognition of alternative and emerging modes of art consumption.

Footnotes

Acknowledgements

The project was awarded to Tony Bennett (Project Director), to Chief Investigators Greg Noble, David Rowe, Tim Rowse, Deborah Stevenson and Emma Waterton (Western Sydney University), David Carter and Graeme Turner (University of Queensland), and to Partner Investigators Modesto Gayo (Universidad Diego Portales) and Fred Myers (New York University). Michelle Kelly (Western Sydney University) was appointed as Project Manager/Senior Research Officer. The project has additionally benefited from inputs from Ien Ang, Ben Dibley, Liam Magee, Anna Pertierra and Megan Watkins (Western Sydney University).

Funding

This article is a product of the ‘Australian Cultural Fields’ project supported by the Australian Government through the Australian Research Council (DP140101970).

Notes

Author biographies

Deborah Stevenson is Professor of Sociology and Urban Cultural Research in the Institute for Culture and Society at Western Sydney University and Honorary Professor in the Faculty of Humanities and Social Sciences at the University of Bath, UK. Her research is focused on cities and urban life, arts and cultural policy, and place and tourism, and her many publications include the recent books: Cities of Culture: A Global Perspective (Routledge, 2014), The City (2013) and Tourist Cultures: Identity, Place and the Traveller (co-authored, Sage, 2010). She is also co-editor of the Ashgate Research Companion to Planning and Culture (2013) and the forthcoming Routledge Urban Media Companion.

Liam Magee is a Senior Research Fellow in the Institute for Culture and Society at Western Sydney University. His principal research interests include practices of software (databases, data analytics, coding, gaming), cities and sustainability. His publications include the book Interwoven Cities (Palgrave Macmillan, 2015), and contributions to Urban Sustainability in Theory and Practice (Routledge, 2015) and Towards a Semantic Web: Connecting Knowledge in Academic Research (Chandos, 2011). Together with Ned Rossiter, he co-convenes the Institute’s Digital Life Research Program.

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