Artist Resources, Grants for Artists, Creative Projects, Making Money for Artists

Tucked behind a small hill of 25 lb rice bags at Costco Wholesale, you can find two-pack jars of Shan Ginger Garlic Paste — 700 grams each. Some purists might turn up their nose at cooking with paste, but when you’re slinging weeknight curries as much as I am, you can’t be too precious with your ingredients. Turns out, grantwriters do the same damn thing! The most effective grantwriting operations know when to reuse material, how to buy time, and critically, what to make from scratch. Oftentimes, it’s the difference between a grant submitted and a grant opportunity you pass up.

In an industry where talking about money often feels taboo, Bills, Bills, Bills is doing something radical: asking theater workers to share exactly what they earn and how they make it work. Published through Lauren Halvorsen's Nothing for the Group newsletter, this crowdsourced series has featured over 40 financial diaries since 2022 — from costume workers in Cleveland to lighting designers in Australia — offering a rare glimpse into the real economics of building a life in the arts. In this conversation, series curator Jenna Clark Embrey talks about breaking down financial stigma, the power of salary transparency, and why she's still a little disappointed Destiny's Child hasn't sent a cease and desist.

In the Gentle Reminders series, we provide working artists with essential and convenient reminders for the care and maintenance of a nimble and flourishing creative practice. If your art is a garden, this series is about the continual weeding, watering, and miscellaneous upkeep it requires. A few months ago, we reminded you to review your *!%# contracts. This month, we are exploring how tidying up your virtual workspace can jumpstart your creative practice.

It’s rejection season, baby. For creative beings who bravely put themselves out there this fall and winter, I tip my hat to you—regardless of the outcome. The first months of the year are a notoriously brutal season for artists because, while a small percentage of us just received happy news (you finally got that grant!), the vast majority of working artists are questioning why they poured hours of their precious free time into applications that go nowhere.

My measuring stick for rising inflation is the cost of an iced lavender matcha latte. It used to be $5, then $6, now a harrowing $7. Every time I reach the checkout screen, a familiar, condescending voice comes blaring through my head:

To some, making art and reviewing contracts are like oil and water—they don’t mix. In reality, many working artists will at some point engage in a binding agreement with another person or party for a gig, sale, commission, fiscal sponsorship, grant award, exhibition, or collab. But I suspect I’m not the only artist who feels like an imposter when I “review” my contracts. How can I possibly protect myself or my work, without legal training or expertise?

From the beach to the dating pool, red flags are a form of communal protection: the water isn’t safe, keep out. Green flags, on the other hand, are like lighthouses, guiding us towards safety and belonging. In my time navigating these choppy arts industry waters, I’ve learned to trust my gut when it comes to people, institutions, and opportunities. If someone feels too good to be true, they’re probably not real. If a workplace leaves you feeling emptier than a box of fruit snacks on the playground, it’s time to clock out (early). But when an application portal prioritizes accessibility or a job listing includes a salary? Those people probably know what’s up. “Trust your gut” is an awfully short blog post (3 words okay, boss?), so let’s dive in and categorize some common arts industry experiences.

Hold up. Gig work is work? We know this news may come as a shock to some readers. Unless you’re an artist, in which case you are intimately familiar with the hidden costs, expectations, and contradictions of 1099 work. Like many other unacceptable realities of American living, the financial precarity of gig workers has been normalized in day-to-day life and entrenched in our laws. But there are growing networks of people working to change this reality and offering promising visions for the future of gig work for artists. We’re here to bolster 1099 arts workers with a bundle of statistics, a not-so-secret stash of resources, and a heaping spoonful of hope:

Many of us, myself included, were raised in a world where competing with the people around you is the norm — even when it leads us nowhere. Don’t get me wrong: I’m an incredibly competitive person at heart and have been forcibly removed from a number of casual board game groups. But when it comes to art, I believe that competition creates a false sense of scarcity among artists and keeps all of us hungry for the everyday magic of art.

You’re staring at the screen, your finger hovering over the submit button as you run through your application materials one last time — the artist statement you’ve rewritten seven (oh, wait…now eight) times, the project budget you’ve tweaked and retweaked, the work samples you’ve agonized over selecting. We’ve all hit submit with the same, well-worn mixture of hope and resignation.