By their 18th birthday, the average Londoner is resplendent with natural gifts: abundant hair, a flair for the withering bon mot, a high tolerance for vodka. Factoring in their broken weathervane emotional incontinence (rebranded as ‘charisma’), they possess everything required to cut a dash in society. Everything, that is, except cash. Specifically, the disposable income needed to partake in the cultural feast served up by our glittering capital city.
This is a loss, both for the eager beaver teen, as well as for the arts and culture scenes that would benefit from the burning churn of curious youth. Meanwhile, countries across Europe have been offering arts vouchers upon their citizens reaching adulthood. Italy launched the ‘18app’ in 2016, a €500 capped app for cultural activities. France frisked up its 18-year-olds’ dance card with a €300 happy birthday present in 2021. The government specified that in addition to activities, books and musical instruments, the subsidy had to be spent on French streaming platforms. But ever the disruptors, wily French urchins hacked the system by spending the majority of their money on Japanese manga comics. Take that, AcadeÌmie Française!
The German government is the latest to climb aboard the Minipops bandwagon, after its €200 ‘KulturPass’ launched on 14 June. Any resident who turns 18 in 2023 is eligible, with films, concerts, theatre, museums and more awaiting Deutschland’s artistically inclined adolescents. But how would KulturPass play out here in London?
London’s arts and culture scenes would benefit from the burning churn of curious youth
Without hesitation I declare such an initiative a perfect for this burg. Our cultural bounty is breathtaking, accessible through memberships to the Tate, to the BFI, to world-class dance studios. There are myriad music festivals, immersive theatre like Punchdrunk’s astonishing productions, even graffiti art workshops in Leake Street tunnel. The more ambitious kids might swap their golden ticket for artwork from the Affordable Art Fair, or shell out for a mudlarking permit to dig up Roman coins on the Thames foreshore. And beyond city limits there’s that Glyndebourne for the gacked and gurning, Glastonbury, filled with sweaty pastel mermaids and vajazzled pony boys. Excited by the prospect of an incipient flock of baby culture vultures, I flagged down various youngs in my orbit, ready to be astonished by their initiative.
Eighteen-year-old Anna is decisive. ‘I’d spend it on gigs,’ she declares. Solid strategy — cultural and sociable. Jonny is equally decisive: ‘Tattoos!’ Noting my scepticism, he barks, ‘That’s art!’ adding, ‘Oh, and the pub — for archetypal British culture.’ (Can I award culture points for Johnny’s use of ‘archetypal’?) ‘Are video games culture?’ Jonny’s friend Zak asks wistfully. Then he’s seized by an idea: ‘I’d spend it visiting historic archaeological sites, like Tintagel Castle in Cornwall.’ Now that’s more like it, Zak — get yourself down to the fabled site of King Arthur’s Camelot... we’ll show up those manga-bingeing French teens yet.
