Inciter Art | Fractured Atlas

On flowers, wisdom, and systems with Alexis Frasz and Tanya Birl-Torres

Written by Fractured Atlas | April 14, 2025

Springtime is all around us, and we have some exciting, seasonally appropriate news here at Fractured Atlas. Tanya Birl-Torres and Alexis Frasz have joined the Fractured Atlas board and are already bringing a blooming energy to our organization’s work. Tanya’s and Alexis' expertise and passion for building better worlds for artists shines through this interview — give it a listen, and let us know what questions you have for Tanya and Alexis in the comments 💬

 

 


Vicky Blume:
To get us grounded, where in the world are you right now? Can you describe something in your surroundings that is meaningful, funny, or new to you in some way? Maybe we'll kick off with Tanya.

Tanya Birl-Torres: So, I'm located in New York City and at this moment I am very aware that today is the Vernal Equinox and am holding space for that. I've already been in the park near my house today, seeing all the buds — I'm just excited about spring. So I think that's where I find myself.

Alexis Frasz: Yeah, I'll build on that actually because that's been really present for me, too. We're just starting to see our trees budding out, but they haven't burst yet. And even though it happens every year, it always feels new and surprising to me. I've been thinking a little bit about the metaphor of that for these times. When there's a long, cold, dark winter and then there is this renewal. These buds that are waiting to be born. For me, that's feeling particularly necessary right now.

VB: Yeah, I love the inevitability of the budding also. Every year, I'm like, “they won't come.” And then they always come! It's something we can rely on.

TBT: Also, I wouldn't come if I were them, because it's so cold. They're the bravest. If I were you, I would not be doing this, but you're doing it, and you do it every year for us. Thank you.

VB: And they're so small!

TBT: They're so little! But they're strong, they're powerful.

VB: I love that. I'm curious: what's the origin story of your relationship with Fractured Atlas? How did we find each other? Maybe Alexis, you could get us started?

AF: I almost feel like I've always known Fractured Atlas — I can't really think of a particular moment in time where it all started. At one point, I taught a creative leadership course at the Banff Center in Canada with a former co-CEO of Fractured Atlas, Tim Cynova, and Andrew Taylor, who's on the board. And I just remember laughing so much with them, more than some would deem appropriate for a professional context, but it was just so fun. So I have very positive associations with members of the Fractured Atlas team. More recently, I worked on a research project with Fractured Atlas to identify the things that are impacting artists’ lives that are not typically considered to be arts issues or part of the arts sector's business. So things like mutual aid, protections and benefits for independent workers, cooperatives. Fractured Atlas was considering what kinds of systemic things are having impacts on artists' lives and where there might be intervention points and opportunities to engage. So we got a bit closer more recently!

VB: That report, which we ended up calling the Opportunity Scan, got a lot of love out in the world by the way!

AF: That's so good to hear.

VB: I think it was really well timed, because there were lots of exciting guaranteed income programs cropping up for artists at the time. Tanya, how did you find us? How did we find you?

TBT: Let's see. In 2022, I was the artistic director for a music festival in my neighborhood called the Washington Heights Womanist Arts Festival and was trying to figure out how to receive donations. “But…I'm not a 501(c)(3)?”Just the natural, inevitable questions. And then a friend of mine who's a brilliant cellist, Amanda Gookin, said, “oh, you need to check out Fractured Atlas.” So I went through the whole process of applying, and the Festival became a fiscally sponsored project. That was my first interaction with Fractured Atlas — solely as an artist. More recently, I've been one of the lead facilitators with NAS for a pilot program called the Project. I'm their Embodied Systems Change Facilitator, which means weaving embodiment practices into how we approach change across difference, and applying embodied systems to our social systems and our world. We were on a retreat in September in the Catskills and I had the pleasure of meeting Theresa and Andrew and Alberto and it was, similarly to Alexis, just lots of laughs. One night, Alberto and I just reminisced over our love of 80s hip hop artists and shared music back and forth. We all just had this really great connection, and I was able to do a practice with them that I had learned out of the Social Presencing Theater at MIT called Stuck. I asked Andrew, Theresa, and Alberto to embody the Fractured Atlas mission through this improvised, embodied exercise and they really took to it. Andrew in particular was like, “whoa, it was really cool to see and embody the challenges that we're facing instead of just making it a cerebral exercise.” Soon after that came the invitation to come and join the board, and bring those different ways of thinking and being in the world into Fractured Atlas.

VB: I love that picture you painted for us, because I think it mirrors how a lot of artists find us — by way of music, fiscal sponsorship, embodied practice, bringing art into the world. So it's fun to see a board member find us in that way, too. We've already introduced you to this audience with your bios, but I'm sure you agree that bios don't always do a great job of illustrating the people, movements, and circumstances that influenced and shaped us. Could you share some of that background with us? Are there mentors or ancestors you'd like to shout out, belief systems that guide your work? I'm going to put you on the spot, Alexis.

AF: Well, now my wheels are turning about everything that Tanya just said. And I want to know a lot more about them, because it connects to some of the things that have informed me and guide my work. I'm an anthropologist by training. So when I think about culture, it's the small ‘c’ culture often. I think about the function of culture in communities and in people's lives more so than (but not excluding) capital ‘A’ art. That's a big piece of what informs my approach to the field. I also studied Chinese medicine for years and although I didn't end up graduating — I'm a dropout — I do apply that systems theory, which comes from observing the way that natural systems work and the idea that the natural state of energy is to keep moving. And when we have energy that stops moving, that's when you see dysfunctions manifesting in a body and any natural system. In this framework, the role of the doctor is to find where the blockages are, right? Even though I haven't been practicing as a doctor, I’m interested in applying that thinking to social systems, to groups of people, to society as a whole. I think it's interesting because it's a non-judgmental approach to analyzing and treating a system. It's not ideological, and it often leads to solutions that might not have been obvious if one were just trying to treat the symptoms. Tanya, what you were saying resonated with me because it's also bringing in the body element to that as well. 

I could list a million people that I'm continually influenced by — their writings, their thinking, their way of being in the world. But I would say over the last decade, I've been having sort of an awakening around something Nate Hagens talks about, this concept of the Human Predicament. It’s about climate, yes, but it's also this bigger stew of questions, like “how are we getting ourselves into a complicated mess that's really hard for us to get out of?” and, “why is it so hard for us to get out of it?” Again, it's not about trying to find the one person or industry to blame, but a curiosity around how we can know the things we're supposed to do and yet not do them. I've been very interested in the cultural dimensions of the climate crisis, inequality, the loneliness epidemic, all these things, and thinking deeply about the upstream dynamics that are leading us to a place we don't wanna be. People like Naomi Klein's work has influenced me a lot. There's a writer called Jason Hickel who writes a lot about a post-growth society, which I think the arts have a lot to do with. Because it's less about what we can consume and a lot more about who we are and how we are together and finding other sources of satisfaction in our lives that are not necessarily just about consuming more stuff. I'll leave it there, but I could say much more.

VB: I see so much rich overlap in both of your approaches — that anything can be a system with blockages, that any concept or idea can be embodied. Tanya, I'm very curious what you're going to share with us about your background, influences, belief systems?

TBT: To me, this is where an interview or podcast gets good, because I just want to sit and get to know more about Alexis. I will say you said the *ding ding ding* word for me, which is anthropologist. I didn't go to school for anthropology, but from a very, very, very young age, I've been curious about consciousness, human consciousness, and why people do the things that they do. My mom could tell that this was interesting to me when I asked her, “if I was a squirrel, would I know I was a squirrel?” I love that story about me. That's the most badass question. She was like, “I don't know, Tanya.”

VB: That's so deep!

TBT: Isn't it so deep? All of this to say — going back to anthropology, my ancestor of absolute choice is Zora Neale Hurston, a cultural anthropologist, artist, writer, choreographer, playwright. I follow her lead and call on her daily, if not hourly. She's such a huge part of my life and my work. And my bio shares the ways that I'm connected to Zora but I just love how she was able to weave together where she was from — the deep South, Alabama, Florida, all of these places — and then bring all of that genius up to the North to birth the Harlem Renaissance. She's definitely the wayfinder for me. And then another ancestor that I call upon and work with is Harriet Tubman. A very good friend of mine, Willie Mae Brown, says, “always call on Harriet because that woman will never retire.” So I do. I also love diving into the skills of ancestral work and asking myself, “what are the skills and the gifts that these bodies had when they were humans in flesh on the earth?” So for Harriet, for example, it's her ability to never give up and never retire. And then there’s also Sojourner Truth. Those are these three, black women that guide a lot of my work. And then in terms of who I've actually walked on this planet with and know personally, there’s Patch Schwadron. She used to run career transitions for dancers at the Actors Fund and I remember going to her when I was ending my 15-year-long career as a dancer and performer in New York and saying, “I've never wanted to win a Tony Award. I've never dreamed of doing those things. And I know that's supposed to be the dream.” And I remember her just looking at me and saying, “it's because it's not big enough,” and it literally blew my mind, my glass ceiling. Patch really changed the way I thought about how I choose to exist in the world, what I find to be important, and how my gifts can be used. When the time comes for me to give generously — with my time, my energy, but even financially — it would be to whatever she's doing because she's a guiding light for every dancer and person that she talks to. That simple sentence — “it’s not big enough” — really changed the trajectory of how I used dance, movement, and embodiment in a different way. A way that I didn't think was available to me.

VB: "Because it's not big enough." I just got shivers, especially hearing that as a young person.

TBT: Thank you. I know. I know, it was so powerful.

VB: These ways of measuring each other and ourselves — how can we be more expansive with one another? There's this quote by Ursula Le Guin that I love that feels more relevant than ever at this moment in time: “We live in capitalism. Its power seems inescapable. So did the divine right of kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings.” Can you share your personal wellsprings of power in these times? And what do you see as our collective wellspring of power? Tanya, do you want to get us started?

TBT: Okay, who came up with that question? That is such a good question. Wow. To begin serving on this board and knowing that these are the kinds of questions that Fractured Atlas is asking already is just really incredible. I absolutely agree with that quote and think that it's so necessary. I also feel that we're currently entering an age — if you follow astrology, you know this — known as the Age of Aquarius. Gone are the times of needing one person to save us, or needing any kind of savior. And a lot of our rallying in the past as human beings has been to rally around a powerful being. We are so fortunate to be on the planet during that shift away from that, towards this collective wave of everyone becoming their own power source and power center. From the beginning of the pandemic till now, I’ve been focusing a lot of my resources, time, and energy on my power. Not only power in terms of what I can do, but feeling it and knowing where it is in my body, feeling where it is and choosing to act from that place. Power to me isn't just a concept. I can feel when my gut is telling me to speak up. I can tell when my heart is broken and to lead with compassion. That is a powerful tool. In terms of my work, it’s all about working with people to learn to trust those parts just as strongly as your brain, your head. That's where I draw my power. I also draw from my community. I draw power from my family. I've always known it and it's been showing itself more and more — my power center is who I surround myself with, my family, and my home. So I’ve been pouring a lot of energy and attention into making my home a source of strength and a place where I can come back and rejuvenate, knowing that my children feel like they are planted in the world. I'm kind of finding my answer as I'm going, but I think it also is finding the power in who I am as a woman and a mother, because so much of that is still, “well, that's not powerful.” Mother’s work doesn't get acknowledged, praised, or compensated in any way, but also choosing for that to be where I put my energy and time. And I'm realizing that it is fortifying me. It is keeping me strong and the endurance part of it is keeping me going. So I don't feel like I'm about to burn out anytime soon. And that's a really strong feeling. And I think that's powerful too. So that's the beginning of an answer. I'm gonna probably sit with that question for a very long time.

VB: You can always email me, you know, in two years.

TBT: There'll be more!

AF: I totally resonate with what Tanya said. I feel like I'm falling in love with Tanya in this conversation, and I keep forgetting that we're actually recording something. I think for many of us, if we're being honest, our power source is our inner power. I heard somebody speak the other day and they were saying, “maybe what we don't need more of in society is more power. What we need is more wisdom.” And while I don't agree with that 100% — there are obviously people who need more power, and we need more collective power to contest elite power and power that's harmful — but I also think there's a truth in that. Over the last few years, I've been very focused on community power building, what it takes, and how we can win fights. But if it's not coming from the right place, it's so easy to just replicate the same things. We thought it was about them and they were bad. And then we get into that position and we do the same thing because it's not about them. It's actually about where we are coming from. I really resonated with what you said, Tanya, about the inner transformation that connects you to a deeper source of power. Power that's grounded in spiritual practice and relationships and my body and nature and just connectedness generally. Feeling embedded in something and not the isolated, in-my-head intellectualism. I think that we need more opportunities and more spaces for people to individually cultivate those experiences and connections to themselves and each other. We're so atomized in these times, whether it's social media or just our consumer-worker identities. What excites me with Fractured Atlas in particular is this idea of taking all these people that are separate and individual artists, and seeing what happens when they're part of something that's more than just their own practice and their own work. Of course, they're embedded in their communities and what they're doing, but there's something about power building as a collective from a place of wisdom that I think is very inspiring to me.

VB: I even see that showing up in this conversation. When I was scheduling this interview, Theresa asked me, “just one clarifying question: why are you interviewing both of them at the same time?” And I responded, ”I don't know — I just want to see what happens.” Let’s throw these atoms together and see what energy comes out of it. And I think that we absolutely need more of those moments on every scale, you know?

TBT: That's a wise instinct, Vicky. I actually found myself feeling a little bit nervous before the call. I think it was because of that. There were more elements of the unknown than if it was just a one-on-one, you ask me questions, I answer. I was like, “oh, how is this going to work? Well, let's see.” The willingness to just go with it, being confident to just step in and try something different.

VB: Yeah, I appreciate both of you just flowing with that idea! To tie it back to artists —which I know we're all obsessed with — the conditions within which artists are making work right now include censorship, defunding, and pretty long-standing deregulation of worker protection. None of these are new, but they feel pretty heightened to me right now. What do you see as the role of artists in dismantling these conditions and shaping new ones? Alexis, do you want to kick us off?

AF: This is a tough one. These questions are really great. But this is a tough one. The conditions are daunting. On the one hand, I think we need to transition away from this idea that there are particular types of individuals or people that can make change better than other types of people. Of course, there are compelling leaders, but in the climate/art space, for example, there's been this very interesting embrace of artists as the solution. It went from, “what do artists have to do with this issue” to, “artists will save us.” And I think that's also not healthy. There is something that artists can bring to these systemic challenges, and these challenges directly relate to artists' wellbeing, so we have a stake in wanting to make these changes. So maybe the best way forward is to embrace our numerous identities, like artists as mothers, artists as community members, artists as citizens and workers. Where are we in alignment with other people and where are the opportunities for us to join movements for bigger change? Because the reality is we're going to need a lot of collective power to enact change. I have been really inspired by the work that Creatives Rebuild New York has done, for example. Not just running a guaranteed income program and an employment program, but also thinking beyond that and identifying New York policies that would impact artists' livelihoods. The policies that they're focusing on aren’t all artist specific, and include things like family leave and portable benefits for independent workers at large. We’re getting better at understanding what our fights really are, joining them, and artists bringing their own particular flavor to the table. The beauty, the joy, the creativity, the different ways of thinking about problems can all add to it, but I think those are more powerful when they're part of a bigger movement.

VB: Absolutely. It actually relates to some great feedback we received recently. We regularly share artist opportunities, including residencies, and a mom reached out to say, “I love that you share these but none of them are accessible to me, I can’t just pick up and leave my family for an unpaid opportunity.” And I think that intersectionality is key moving forward.

TBT: So as a self-identified artist, I'm literally taking notes for resources. This is another great question. And I will just add to Alexis' point about people being like, “artists, whatever,” and then when times are hard, it's like, “where are the artists?” I always ask myself, "what would Zora do?" Zora was in this position of being an artist right after Reconstruction, the Great Depression, and the birth of the Harlem Renaissance, right? And she wrote insane amounts of letters to friends, to colleagues, to editors, and shared her experience being the first black student at Barnard. I've been listening to her in terms of what it means to be an artist in a time of huge global and social shift, when people were really looking to these young black artists to pave the way. I realized what she did, and what I'm choosing to do, is basically what you said, Alexis. Do the art that I would do anyway. She actually refused to be called an activist. She was like, “I'm telling the stories of where I'm from and this is what I wanted to do anyway, and look — I'm an artist and I'm doing my work right now. That's really it.” W.E.B Du Bois and other folks were putting pressure on her to make it pointed so that it's about the black experience. I think that's actually the last thing we need to be doing to artists right now — we're gonna do it anyway. If it's in us then the stories are in us — we're going to let it come from what's in it. And I would add that artists are naturally well equipped, for better or for worse, with risk management and having to go without money for a long time. I'll just speak for myself: my husband and I are both artists, so raising two kids in New York City — we really have to know how to work with our resources. When a pandemic hits, when huge things happen, it's not that it doesn't affect us, but we're like, “okay.” It doesn't freak us out the way that I see some other folks who have a more structured nine-to-five, a steady paycheck, that W-2 life. I think that the beauty of where artists are needed right now is when the earth is shaking and people might be panicking, artists might be like, “oh, sweet.” We can get to work and we know this feeling of disruption — again, for better or for worse. It sucks that we do and it comes in handy when the world's falling apart.

AF: Can I respond to what Tanya just said around the function of art in times of challenge? Because I think that's so right on. In the art and climate space, for example, there's been this idea that the art has to have a message about climate. And artists also fall into this trap sometimes. "I'm a climate artist, I'm making art about climate change, I'm telling people about the issue, I am raising awareness." And research has actually shown that the most impactful types of artistic experiences are ones that connect people to their hearts and their community, or open up new relationships between people. Because that's the thing that's missing. That’s what makes it hard for us to connect to the pain of what's happening in the world and tap into our desire to change it. It's just a totally different way of thinking about the function of art. Don't get me wrong, sometimes art’s function is to tell us what to do in a very didactic way — but that's one small sliver of a much bigger picture.

TBT: That's right. And I think we need everyone. I won't speak for Zora, but what I gather from her is that there are people whose whole life and work is to be an activist. And then there are people like me, who tell beautiful stories about Magnolias and relationships in the South. We can all work together, but I don't have to do someone else's job. This is mine. Letting artists settle into what we already know to be true and working from there, will relieve some of that pressure.

VB: I love the idea of asking, “what does art facilitate? how does it live in the world? and what's the responsibility of people who are experiencing and consuming art?” It feels more reciprocal than, “what are artists doing about this?”

AF: Exactly. 

VB: Looking ahead, this is actually our last formal question. As you step into these new board roles with Fractured Atlas, what do you see as your responsibility to artists and the arts sector in this board work specifically?

TBT: It became pretty clear to me that the role is to listen. And when I say listen, it's not just to what's being said, but also to what is not being said and articulate what isn't there. That's a skill and sensitivity that I can bring to this work, one that I'm learning is actually a superpower. I have to say, just meeting some past board members, some transitioning board members, and now present board members — everyone is brilliant. Heart, soul, mind, body, brilliant. So I'm just excited to have us all working together for the greater good.

AF: Yeah, I'll echo that. I feel very committed to Fractured Atlas's mission. Even before becoming a board member, I felt very inspired by the idea of making it possible for people to kind of live into their creative practice. I feel a responsibility to that mission and I echo this sense of having the feelers out. I think Tanya and I have very different communities that we're tapped into, but I think having our feelers out in the places where we touch to see what can be brought back and vice versa. This conversation has made this even more clear to me that there's a magical synergy that keeps happening when it comes to Fractured Atlas’s work. We had a conversation yesterday with a couple of other staff members and there was just this feeling of, “oh my God, there's so much here, so many ideas, there’s so much happening when we get into a room together,” and that feels really exciting. The possibility of what we are together — that we're not alone. As much as I feel a responsibility to artists in the art sector and the organization, I also just feel so grateful for this opportunity — to be learning and growing from this experience.

TBT: Going back to the beginning, with embodiment and going into the body first, I think getting all of us, if not virtually, but physically in space together as a board would do some incredible, magical things. I'm excited for those opportunities as well. That's what I do — gather people. It’s another thing that I'd love to bring to Fractured Atlas — curating and dreaming up spaces where we could be together and allow whatever bubbles up to start to fall into place.

VB: Those chain reactions, again, that we don't control, we can't predict. Thank you both so much.

AF: Thank you.

TBT: Thank you!