Community Care
An Artist Residency Reflection
Reading time: About 5 minutes
Late in 2023 I got the idea to apply for an artist residency. I didn’t have it thought out, but there was this micro-grant, you see. Well, first there was a proper really big grant that I didn’t get, but in the rejection email there was information about another smaller grant that would open in just a few weeks time.
The day the grant went up I was eager. I opened the website explaining the requirements and read them through. My heart fell almost immediately. This micro-grant was specifically for things like taking classes, learning a new skill, or getting some kind of formal training. It wasn’t a grant you could use for current projects, and that was all I had and what I wanted to focus on.
But… there was one other thing the grant said it could be used for: Residencies.
Sparrow Artspace had been on my radar for over a year. They were front of mind in that moment because they had just started posting openings for residencies for December and into the New Year.
The timing was tight. The announcement date for the grant and the time the available residency term would start were just three weeks apart. I applied for the grant and then I went to see Sparrow Artspace. It was this one big room with a West-facing shop window, hard wood floors and a tin ceiling. There was plenty of room for me… and several other artists. It was a great space.
I reached out to some other artists I knew to see if maybe, possibly, if I were to get the grant, and maybe even if I didn’t, would they like to form a cohort? A group of queer artists and writers sharing the space for the month? Something community centred and collaborative?
Of the four people I reached out to, three said yes and one invited a friend so we became five. We started texting regularly about how we could make January work even if I didn’t get the grant. How much money could everyone pitch in? What availability did folks have? How might we use the space?
The day the grant recipients would be announced came and went.
I figured I would get a rejection soon, but instead I got a phone call. It was someone from the funding agency and they had questions for me. They wanted to know a bit more about my idea. I told them my plan for the funds had changed since I’d first applied. The money wouldn’t be just for me, but for five 2SLGBTQIA+ artists. This would be collaborative, an opportunity for all of us to work together for a month.
They thanked me for the additional info and let me know it would be by lottery-drawing. My name would be entered would announce winning recipients in a few days.
I still didn’t have much hope of getting it…
But I did.
A few days after that call came the email.
The grant was mine.
The grant was ours.
The residency was happening and we had just three weeks to plan and prepare for our month together.
Plan and prepare we did, and oh, what a glorious month January was.
We hosted community hangouts twice a week, inviting other 2SLGBTQIA+ folks to use the space. People would bring projects they were working on and I used grant funding to make sure there were loads of snacks.
As we were bombarded by news out of the States, we ranted and grieved and raged together as a way to process it all.
We met cool people who wandered in after seeing the “It’s queer in here!” message we wrote on the sandwich board on the sidewalk outside. They came in and found art about them and for them. Sometimes they spent just a half hour there and sometimes they ended up spending most of the day.
We put on workshops which we offered for free, so people could be in community and write poetry and sew patches onto clothing and do yoga and make medicine bags without having to pay for the privilege.
We put on an open mic night in partnership with a local queer writing group and it was warm and welcoming and fortifying.
As my fellow resident put it: We made a queer living room where people could just come as they were.
We fed people, and shared tea and fizzy drinks with them. We swapped tips and tricks of our crafts. We exchanged ideas and learned new skills.
We made a third space, a space without any expectations or requirements, without a ticket price or a membership.
We made a place to be in community, to know you belong and are welcome and not the only one and not alone.
And it was good.
It was great.
