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How to Survive a Plague (Again) Susan Sontag called illness “the night side of life.” Can Iowa’s creative communities outlast the long, dark night of COVID-19? BY DARCIE HUTZELL
Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes. How do you measure, measure a year? In daylights, In sunsets, In midnights, In cups of coffee, In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife —“Seasons of Love,” Rent
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onathan Larson, who wrote the groundbreaking rock musical Rent, spent all of his time, money and effort creating this piece of enduring musical theater. Rent continues to be relevant to new and younger audiences, speaking in particular to young creatives. It’s a classic story of love, loss, financial strain and the unyielding drive to create, all while living in the shadow of the AIDS epidemic of the 1980s. In the midst and the wake of the AIDS crisis, many felt that they weren’t getting the real story about the number of people affected, how long we would be living with this new virus or when and if it would end. Back then, people largely felt that if it didn’t directly impact them, maybe it wasn’t real—and there are certainly those who believe similarly about COVID-19, despite the fact that the death toll in the U.S. has exceeded the number of minutes in a year, a number Larson’s musical made famous. (As of April 2, 566,772 Americans have died of COVID-19). The words and themes of Rent’s quintessential ballad drive us to ask the question: How do we measure this year? Loaves of bread baked? Zoom cocktail parties? Many of us, tired of the bombardment of numbers about COVID-19, turned to creative pursuits that were new, while others tried to hang on to their established creative communities to keep sane and continue creating. For some, creation is a way to keep our minds focused; for others, it is a distraction from thinking about the daily loss of life caused by a pandemic that has seemed out of control. I found myself panicking when I’d hear of the deaths of friends’ parents, because in the spring of 1990, I lost my dad to the AIDS virus. This pandemic brought that trauma back for me. Watching the death toll rise, with family and friends losing loved ones to a still-little-understood disease, all 30 April 2021 LITTLEVILLAGEMAG.COM/LV293
felt very familiar. I was a teenager in the late ’80s, growing up in Mason City, Iowa. While I was aware of AIDS, I never felt like it would touch my life. When it suddenly did, I turned to writing and musical theater in high school in part to become someone different from myself, but also to have a community of creative people that was wholly accepting of me. I was a prolific writer back then, and much of my work centered on hiding. How long did my dad hide his illness, his lifestyle? Exploring that in writing was a necessary thing for me, and so turning to writing again during this pandemic was healing. I decided that there was an urgency to tell my story, similar to the urgency felt among many in the gay community to tell theirs during the AIDS crisis.
“Art Office is a work program in which artists are prompted to consider their creative processes more like workday office jobs,” said Carla Baudrons, managing director of Art Office. “Our mission is to help artists focus and be more productive by prescribing a regimen based on personal responsibility, peer accountability and public engagement.” Finding community was also crucial during the AIDS epidemic as well, as artists were isolated from their galleries, mentors, art dealers, in addition to the general public, all based on their viral status. It was because of this that a group of writers, critics and curators founded VisualAIDS. Started in 1988, VisualAIDS was a way to help the most marginalized show work, get jobs and secure funding for care and even basic art supplies. The organization was one of the first national “THE COMMUNITY ASPECT OF ART OFFICE programs to highlight IS INTEGRAL, SO KEEPING THE ARTISTS the impact of AIDS on CONNECTED WAS OF THE UTMOST the creative community. VisualAIDS still serves as IMPORTANCE.” —CARLA BAUDRONS a place for artists affected by HIV and AIDS to gather, I started having conversations with my commiserate and show work. Baudrons hopes friends, many of whom are creatives, about that the Art Office will serve as a similar kind pandemics and the drive to create. Art has of place. always been political, but for many the images, “Art Office was in the planning phase when activism and communities during the AIDS the pandemic started. I had to refigure how the epidemic became truly vital for survival. The program was going to work. The community government was doing little to acknowledge that aspect of Art Office is integral, so keeping the AIDS was happening and people were dying, so artists connected was of the utmost importance,” activism turned to artists. The images from the Baudrons said. “Fortunately, everyone who was ’80s still endure today. Will we have art from this helping me test the system out was more than pandemic that will resonate 20 years from now? willing to use Zoom to connect with their fellow Will we have communities that still endure? artists, up to five times per week. In the heat of the pandemic, when everyone was hyper-diligent about staying home, Art Office provided its restling with an idea and having the participants a much-needed outlet to see people opportunity to meet and discuss ideas and practice social skills, as well as the benefits surrounding the creation of art have been a of holding each other accountable in their challenge, as has finding support for those who practices. In a lot of ways, I believe our group are marginalized. Zoom and other online video flourished because we were forced to be creative platforms have certainly been one way to stay in our restructuring of the program.” Baudrons is also brainstorming opportunities connected, but for those creatives looking for more support, whether it be for supplies or just a to show the art created by this year’s participants. “We have shows at the end of every session, place to see another creative face, they can turn to Art Office, founded in May 2020, in conjunction though normally these would be held in a gallery,” she said. “Because of COVID, our with Public Space One in Iowa City.
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