Welcome to my newsletter, Girly! On Memes, Labor, and the Twain Towers (6 min read)
I’m off to a late start today. I’ve spent the last 45 minutes photoshopping two images of Shania Twain onto the Twin Towers. The image says: Man! I feel like never forgetting (the Twain Towers). I am unwell.
I quit my job this week. A friend tells me I should consider becoming a full time artist. I tell him I appreciate the support, and he calls me a shining star. I think of the Twain Towers—maybe he is right.
I’ve spent the last eight-ish years in New York working for non-profits and performing on the side. When the height of the pandemic hit and IRL performance opportunities stopped, I turned to making memes as a way to purge the silly ideas in my head. Making them has become a sort of morning ritual, a way to ensure I’ve done at least one thing for myself before I dive into the work of others.
Today I took longer than usual. This is my first day not working in some time, and the effects of burn out are very much lingering. I’ve had a few moments of panic, like I’m supposed to be somewhere. I am giving myself permission to take time today—for me, for Shania.
Burn out almost feels like a mark against my viability in this city. I wonder how other people do it—last in jobs that treat them like shit in one way or another. It seems that people’s thresholds for bullshit are thinning, and I honestly am not surprised. I’ve had a number of conversations with friends in the non-profit sector; many have also burned out, moved on, shifted organizations. Very few of them would say they were fairly compensated and cared for in their roles. Some organizations I’ve worked for have lauded their impact and politics only to then attempt to union bust or deflect responsibility when they fuck up. It really is some bullshit.
“You’re doing something so admirable,” I’ve heard many rich gays tell me when I mention what I do; rich gays who work in branding and hedge funds, those who usually have never stressed about money. I never know how to respond in a way that reaches them. A part of me wants to explain the reality of the situation, for me, for working class artists like me. I haven’t met too many rich people who were happy to talk with me about class though—they're usually not keen on what I have to say re: what and who is “admirable” in this world. But I guess that speaks more to the deeper dissonance between what people think doing good is and what doing good actually is (by what means it comes, by whose standards, at what cost).
I don’t know many full time artists (in this economy, mama?). Most artists I know my age have to hustle or work other jobs to survive. I wonder what it would be like to answer these rich gays simply with: I’m a full time artist. “Oh, what kind of art do you make?” “All of it, baby, all of it.”
I’ve seen people—usually those in charge—stereotyping burned out employees as disgruntled and angry. I get that. I think what’s often left out of that story is how the systems at play got these employees to that point. As one consultant I recently worked with in my last job said: non-profits make it a practice of underpaying and under supporting their staff. It is industry standard to be underpaid. When someone working in non-profits brings up labor exploitation, or class politics, or instating equitable structures into the organization, they are often met with disdain, disbelief, or shamed into silence. “We do this because we care,” “we’re a family,” “it’s a thankless job but we have to do it,” and other anti-labor rhetoric is pervasive in the sector. But at least the occasional rich and out of touch person at a dinner party thinks we’re doing the good work.
In 2020, I was phasing out of two years as an assistant director at an arts non-profit when the pandemic hit. That March, I organized a six-month grassroots emergency fund that wound-up raising a quarter million dollars to give micro-grants to over a thousand low-income artists and freelancers in NYC. And this wasn’t nearly the most successful of the people led campaigns I saw. While some non-profits stepped up to offer administrative support and funds of their own, many of them returned to “normal” as quickly as they could in the following two years.
At that time, the internet was ripe with memes and information/resource sharing that I am glad to see continue today. I have seen more impact and reach from those working online than in many 501c3 organizations, with fundraising tools, community building, and support networks becoming tied to “internet culture” in many ways. The "meme admin as community resource" is one of my favorite things to see. I don’t know where this mode of virtual community building is going, or if it will sustain itself given how easy it is to be zucced these days, but something about it feels promising.
The internet and meme-space also seems to be a place of great connection and solidarity, especially for queer people and those whose politics veer left of what many non-profits consider the status quo. I have become more and more bored with the art that exists within white walls, in buildings with trustees tied to arms dealers, whose directors make 6-7 figures while their lowest paid employees struggle, daily. It’s hard sometimes for me to disconnect the Institution from the art, and as much as I champion the girlies, gays, and theys getting their money, I do desire a more equitable, transparent, and supportive art and non-profit world.
I’ll fan girl for a few people I see doing the work—both as community pillars, resources, comedic relief, and those playing the vital role of satirical trolls: The Art and Labor Podcast, who helped with New Museum Union efforts and recently interviewed me about memes; the newly zucced Wussy Mag, a queer magazine and platform based out of Atlanta; similarly censored Joanie Drago, comedienne extraordinaire whose writing inspires me; OMG Blog; and one of my favorite satirists and trolls, I’m Going to Marry Your Dad. Check them out.
My hope for this newsletter is that I can share my thoughts on the various things I have seen in the art and non-profit worlds, share some resources, and shout out other people I admire. As I look for new work, it’s a space for me to reflect and loop people in. Spread the word. Donate a little to support the effort if you’d like (absolutely never any pressure to give, I value you reading my words). And enjoy the Twain Towers, may we never forget (see below).
Thanks, girlies. Talk soon xx
Shawn
Resources, Events, Opportunities:
Application: Take Root | Evergreen at Green Space 2022/2023 Season: Green Space's Take Root program will offer fully presented opportunities for seasoned artists, 30 years of age or older, who are experienced choreographers but may be exploring new branches in their work. Comes with a stipend, opportunity to perform, and discounted rehearsal space. Free to apply.
Rauschenberg Dancer Emergency Grants: This program provides one-time grants of up to $5,000 to professional dancers in need, who have a dire financial emergency due to the COVID-19 pandemic. You must demonstrate an urgent and critical need for emergency support in order to apply.
Foundation for Contemporary Arts: Emergency Grants: Created in 1993 to further FCA's mission to encourage, sponsor, and promote work of a contemporary, experimental nature, Emergency Grants provide urgent funding for visual and performing artists who:
Have sudden, unanticipated opportunities to present their work to the public when there is insufficient time to seek other sources of funding
Incur unexpected or unbudgeted expenses for projects close to completion with committed exhibition or performance dates
Rash Bar Fire - Staff, Medical & Restoration Fund: Gofundme page to support everyone directly affected [by recent arson at local NYC DIY performance venue], our staff who will be out of work for the foreseeable future, and eventually the repair of the space.
I'm Going to Marry Your Dad and Shawn Escarciga at Lifeworld 04/22: I think there are only a few tickets left to this bad boy!
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