ARTS
Worked Up
Photo by Deanna Echanique
For these local artists, essential work was the foundation of a creative life. Now what?
Deanna and Roberto Echanique By Michelle Delgado Contributing Writer When Roberto Echanique started having panic attacks in between appointments, he knew something had to give. As an HVAC technician with chronic asthma, he often works in challenging conditions involving dust and extreme temperatures. But as the coronavirus pandemic ravaged the D.C. area—posing a particular threat to those with respiratory conditions like his—the risks began to feel overwhelming. “At that point, I was really freaked out,” he says. Bot h he a nd h is pa r t ner, Deanna Echanique, are essential workers living in Hyattsville, whose fields haven’t slowed down during the pandemic. And, like approximately 333,000 other American workers according to a 2019 report from the National Endowment for the Arts, Roberto and Deanna are both visual artists who rely on income from their full-time
jobs. For many artists, essential work can offer financial stability that remains stubbornly elusive in creative fields. Yet the pandemic has cast these professions in a new light, as essential workers are forced to weigh potential health risks against the necessity of a steady paycheck and health insurance. While most headlines focus on front-line health care, grocery, and delivery workers, the classification encompasses a wide range of professions. In April, the Department of Homeland Security’s Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency published a list of jobs necessary for maintaining the nation’s infrastructure. HVAC technicians like Roberto, whose work keeps residential and commercial buildings safe and habitable, are listed in six of the 21 possible subcategories. The pressure to continue working through the pandemic is particularly intense in the D.C. area, where essential workers make up nearly 75 percent of the workforce, according to a report
22 may 29, 2020 washingtoncitypaper.com
from the United Way of the National Capital Area based on data from the Bureau of Labor Statistics—the highest in the nation, due to the area’s concentration of federal workers. As the sole office administrator at an architectural engineering firm, Deanna is a federaladjacent worker who has continued going into the office. “The government still wants their deadlines met,” Deanna says. For Roberto and Deanna, commitment to their essential jobs runs deeper than the need for stability during a financial recession. Despite pandemic-related uncertainty, essential work promises financial freedom and security that is often unattainable through careers in the arts. A 2017 survey conducted by Artfinder and a-n, an artists information company, found that three-quarters of American artists earn $10,000 or less from their art per year—far below D.C.’s $82,000 median income and the $132,000 in annual income renters need to comfortably rent
a two-bedroom apartment, according to a 2019 analysis by financial advice company SmartAsset. How do artists make a living, if these numbers don’t add up? In 2019, Karol Jan Borowiecki, an economics professor at the University of Southern Denmark, published a study examining 160 years of U.S. census data that revealed that access to generational wealth was the biggest factor in determining whether or not someone would work in the arts. Some artists presumably have partners whose income supplements their own. And of course, many artists work full- or part-time jobs to make ends meet. Before turning to HVAC, Roberto spent 20 years working in theater production across the D.C. area. Theater production was creatively and intellectually fulfilling, requiring craftsmanship that spanned painting, carpentry, metal work, and electrical work. Some productions, such as Imagination Stage’s rendition of The Magic Paintbrush, required complex problem solving; along with executing a multimedia production about a young boy whose paintings became reality, Roberto’s work supported the safety and comfort of the production’s deaf and hard-of-hearing cast and crew. “It was a phenomenal experience and an absolutely beautiful show,” Roberto says. But the creatively-fulfilling work came with little financial reward. Roberto’s top-paying job in theater production—a stint as a technical director—paid just $40,000. “There were points when, even though I was working more or less full time in theaters, food and housing were not secure,” Roberto says. “I’ve been homeless a little bit. I’ve had to miss a meal.” In 2019, after just a few years into his second career as an HVAC technician, he earned around $58,000—enough to support his painting and photography. “I’m not starving to make my art anymore,” Roberto says. Deanna has also experienced chronic underpayment in her chosen artistic field. Her lifelong love of comics began when she discovered Sailor Moon at 11 years old. In 2000, she began posting web comics online, then submitting her work to publishers. As her artistic interests shifted from romance to erotica, her work found traction; between 2012 and 2015, she drew comics that were featured in five anthologies, including My Monster Boyfriend and Food Porn. In 2012, while working her current fulltime job, Deanna spent every available moment racing to meet a book deadline. “I would go to work, come home, eat dinner, work for three, four hours, go to sleep,” she says. “On the weekends, I’d work from like 9 or 10 in the morning until 9 at night.” By 2014, this constant deadline-driven work resulted in cubital tunnel syndrome, a debilitating condition that required surgery. “It was causing my entire arm to go numb from the elbow down,” Deanna says. “When I would try to pick up a cup of water, it would hurt.” Though she felt the injury brewing, she ignored it, determined to meet her deadlines. “Art school really instilled a lot of terrible, terrible working habits that came back to haunt me as an adult,” she says.
