ART
Keeping Art Alive During a Pandemic South Side artists find creative ways to secure funding and do their work despite COVID-19 restrictions
“[Art] has this ability to create a visual mythology [of] power for those that feel powerless in this moment.”
BY WALTER LI AND YIWEN LU
W
hen Chicago DJ Sadie Woods lost the opportunity to perform for a live audience—or a live audience in the same physical space, at least—she had to ask herself a lot of questions. She doesn’t have all the answers— but the business side isn’t her primary focus right now. “Actually thinking about the well-being of people, their mental, emotional, physical health, I think is more a priority now and including that for myself. So it's been a time [to] pause and reset and recalibrate,” Woods said. The COVID-19 pandemic has posed a unique set of challenges for workers in a field that holds human interaction at its core. Social distancing practices have forced artists across Chicago—many of whom are freelance workers—to rethink how they produce, monetize, and engage with their audiences. And then, of course, there’s the emotional toll of living in a country in crisis. “I think being in a pandemic amplifies all those things that have already existed before…with the police brutality cases across the states [and] the killings that have happened, everything is amplified right now,” Woods said. The Arts for Illinois Relief Fund—a partnership between the City of Chicago, the State of Illinois, Arts Alliance Illinois, and numerous other philanthropic groups— has structured relief for artists struggling during the pandemic. Individuals like Sadie Woods and art education facilities like Global Girls and Little Black Pearl alike have received grants from the fund. But funding has just been one component of the larger reassessment taking place: artists falling back upon their 30 SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY
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networks—albeit at a distance—and finding ways to give back.
When the pandemic hit, many artists’ first thought was how they could use their platform to support others. For the People Artists Collective, a group of Black artists and artists of color that incorporates their work into grassroots organizing, diverted grant funds from the Field Foundation into relief funds for marginalized artists in Illinois. The need was overwhelming; within four hours of opening the grant application, over sixty artists applied, leading the collective to close the application out of lack of funds. With additional funding secured, they opened a second round, and received 100 applicants within the first couple of hours. For The People have continued their arts activism with greater urgency during
the pandemic. They’ve partnered with the Chicago Community Bond Fund on the “Decarcerate Now: Virtual Quilt,” honoring people who have died of COVID-19 while in Cook County jails, and joined forces with the Little Village Environmental Justice Organization to create posters protesting the demolition of the Crawford Power Generating Station smokestack during the pandemic. In an interview, For The People cofounder Monica Trinidad reflected on the importance of engaging their work with the Black Lives Matter movement. Trinidad urges those who may not be able to physically protest—be they immunocompromised, traumatized, or undocoumented—to help create posters or graphics. Trinidad herself has created a graphics portfolio, #BrownArtistsForBlackPower, as a response to anti-Black attacks in Little Village. “[Art] has this ability to create a visual mythology [of ] power for those that feel
powerless in this moment,” Trinidad said. Other artists have taken it upon themselves to help their communities through platforms they’ve built over the years. Chicago-based Sicangu Lakota hiphop artist and musician Frank Waln usually brings in revenue with concerts and other appearances, since streaming royalties don’t amount to much. Now, during a global pandemic, Waln has used services like Instagram Live to perform concerts at a distance, and has attended digital meetings and webinars to connect with organizations like the Dream Warriors, an Indigenous art collective he’s affiliated with. “Now, I can just go into my home studio and […] turn on my spotlight and put up a nice blanket and do an hour-long show,” Waln said. Waln has also been able to work on two albums—one dedicated to his mother, another focused on Native flute—set to release in the next couple of months. But all
K. RODRIGUEZ
FRANK WALN
CORI LIN
Art and the Community, At a Distance
