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

I’m not an expert on anything. I may have some deeper knowledge in certain areas, like where to find artist opportunities or how to find your next book to read, but really I’m just a forty-year old father of two looking for ways to make it all work: parenting, partnering, homeowning, and artmaking. That’s just me, but I know I share a lot in common with the working artists who read this blog. Maybe like you, I feel the scarcity of money, time, and bandwidth. Maybe like you, I put a lot of undue pressure on myself to get things right all the time. And maybe like you, I long for an alternative, a flipping of the switch, a key that will unlock the mysteries of what it means to be a human in this world.

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.

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.

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.

Years ago, I had a roommate who built sets for local theater productions. I would come home from a closing shift and he would be painting a sign for some make-believe business. I would get back from the movies and he’d be hammering nails into some crude, unfinished structure. I wondered what it was like to move through the day the way he did, from project to project, seemingly paying little to no attention to what time of day it was, whether it was time to eat lunch or go to bed.

This past Valentine's Day, Fractured Atlas was struck by cupid's bow and commissioned artist Lara Antal to write a love letter on a subject of their choosing. Lara went above and beyond, creating a collage that blends typewritten words, digital elements, and soft notebook sketches. We hope you enjoy this letter as much as we did!

If you’re an artist, you’ve probably experienced a moment—maybe even several—when you look back on a stretch of time and realize that you’ve created less art than usual, or even no art at all. Maybe you’re in the middle of some big changes, like becoming a parent, or attending to your mental health. You might be emerging from a particularly busy period, and just want to soak up some rest for the time being. Moving through different seasons is a normal part of both life and the creative process. But what happens when those short breaks in between your art sessions start stretching into weeks, months, or even years? How do we navigate longer, extended breaks away from our art practice and the emotions that may arise with them?

I’ll never forget the first time I took myself on an artist date. Okay, to be honest, I forget most of the details. But I’ll never forget how it felt. The clarity! The creative freedom! The subversive undertones. It was my first taste of anti-productivity.

It’s no small feat to hold the anxiety, worry, and fear that comes from living through these turbulent times, while also having to continue working our jobs, doing laundry, and finding joy where we can. With the U.S. presidential election tomorrow, these feelings may be heightened, as the country and the world prepares to face another unknown. It’s likely that we’ll be in a similar position as the 2020 election, where we won’t know the results until well after election day. And no matter the result, we may be in for a tense few months.