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

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.

My blood still freezes in my veins when I think about that hot, summer night. I arrived drenched in sweat and stressed about keeping to the agreed time. I had just retrieved a box of my CDs — this story takes place in a distant, pre-Spotify era — a precious treasure that a friend had kept safe for me while I lived and toured in New Zealand. I was finally returning to Chile, and this gig would be my first concert in my country in a long time. Little did I know that my joyous homecoming would soon morph into an arts worker's horror story.

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:

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.

My measuring stick for rising inflation is the cost of an iced oat milk vanilla 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:

Credit: Tim O’Brien, Source Last month, I met a lovely white woman from Texas at a friend’s Women’s March afterparty. Our conversation didn’t begin with politics — she’s the director of a Montessori school and avid biker, I’m an education policy hobbyist and avid biker — so things were going well. And then, out of the blue, she makes a casual comment about wishing she didn’t have to make the trip to Washington to protest.