summary: monetary contributions in the arts are incredibly important. receiving donations has been kinda hard to do for any artist. it shouldn't be. receiving creative/collaborative/technical help shouldn't undermine anyone either. also, donuts.
When I was attending university, I had an incredibly formative experience as art director of the spring of 2011 CUPlayers The Night Thoreau Spent in Jail. I have to be honest, it was not shear luck that I got that role, or was it?
I always had a thing for the Transcendentalists, even after I came to realize that they really lived quite cushy lives despite their emphasis on living beyond the material. It is this conflict exactly that is explored in The Night Thoreau Spent in Jail, and more recently, The Art of Asking: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Let People Help by Amanda Palmer. In her book she urges folks who create to accept help openly. In Thoreau's case, living "solely" on the land at Walden was exactly as Romantic as you'd think it would be. So, his mother and sister would arrive once a week with a basket full of baked goods -- including DONUTS.
As explored in Amanda Palmer's TEDtalk and her interview on brainpickings, we're in a society that serves up harsh criticism to those who take the metaphorical donuts, especially for solo artists and support in cost of living. There is a perception that if you accept help, you're somehow not as dedicated to creating as the next person or that your work isn't worthy of praise, because hello -- you had help along the way. That person is a conceptual artist working three jobs to pay rent on the studio and has been living on PB&J -- What do you mean it's too hard? Why would you accept your old aunt's help on the rent? You would even ask?!
It's not too strange now to see "Donate Here" links on sites; some of the ones I frequent most do. It's that sweet spot where someone is creating and working but doesn't have corporate sponsors because of the obligation and the adverts that come with them, because well that wouldn't be true to the spirit of the project. I think of architecture studios that are three people strong and are doing work for fees, but the ends aren't meeting. Wouldn't it still be weird though to see a "Support Us" button on their website?
But, what about the master buildings of yesteryear -- Brunelleschi and Medici, Picasso and his entire entourage? They had help along the way that wasn't exactly buying supplies such as paint or a work of art like a painting. Their patronage happened to be in money, liquid capital -- the total amount of which we'll never really know. However, must patronage be so grandiose?
Can't help be in a form other than money or supplies or anything physical?
This bring me back to my earlier point about getting involved with The Night Thoreau Spent in Jail. It was luck that brought me and Cody Haefner together to live a few doors down from each other in our first year dorm. Cody would be the director and leader of the whole The Night Thoreau Spent in Jail project. I'd spent my high school art thesis project on making cakes out of inedible materials (more on that at a later date). Cody had participated in theater all throughout high school. He came ready to get involved first day at school. We hit it off as friends, and he had the brilliant idea of getting me involved in theater so we could still hangout while he got more involved with the performing scene.
We'd later talk about The Night Thoreau Spent in Jail as I'd recommended he check it out when we both discovered our mutual interest in Henry David Thoreau. He had heard about it before, and I'd like to think I was one of the many nudges that got the project going. It also helped that I mentioned I wanted to do a simultaneously minimalist and dynamic set with music, lights, and moving pieces. While this play honestly demands that sort of artistic direction, this sort of brainstorming isn't something money can promote, I don't think.
I learned many lessons from that experience. Namely, I was in over my head. In hindsight, the number one thing I would have done was shape my design team that was just so green. Inexperience isn't an issue -- I wish I had more knowledge or could direct them to folks or books that could help them out. I wonder how much more they could have brought to our weekly design meetings if they knew their disciplines better -- if I knew their disciplines better. I just didn't realize we needed help, because my lighting designer didn't ask for it. I had assumed (this is the problem), that her previous experience plus what seemed like a driven focus would allow her to learn the switch board in time for the production. And, like the metaphorical donuts and fiscal help, creative help can sometimes be seen as diminishing to one's contribution or worthiness. Maybe that is why she didn't ask?
I wonder what would have happened if I had locked myself up in a room and read a lighting manual book, swallowed the little pride I had, and then baked a dozen cookies to ask a more experienced lighting designer for help, either in training the newbie or getting pointed to books/videos. I definitely should have gotten more involved, although it seemed impossible at the time juggling schoolwork and basic responsibilities (wearing a swimsuit in place of underwear doesn't really work after a day).
I think having learned the lesson of anticipating what needs to be learned and what tools are required, I now train new comers within our group at work in an anticipatory sort of way. It's become part of my role at work. In parallel, what previously had been schoolwork and said basic responsibilities are now replaced with calculating structure for facade support or detail curtain wall systems, etc. I've become better at multitasking and carving out time. It also helps when work day hours exist (which for student theater productions, and any form of art, do not exist).
The takeaway is the importance of monetary support but also the importance of collaborative support. Cody had given me that collaborative support (and nudges to focus) that ended up teaching me so much more than just how a play works. While I'll take donuts any day, I'd like to share it with some good company. (Maybe we can even get more donuts!)