In early April, as the City of Boston became an escalating COVID-19 “hot spot,” Mayor Martin J. Walsh’s office responded with forceful measures on many fronts. In the midst of extreme circumstances, on April 3, the Mayor’s Office of Arts and Culture (MOAC) also announced the fourth cohort of artists-in-residence in its Boston AIR program. The program pairs local artists and staff from City of Boston departments to co-design projects that test new approaches to City policies and processes and that often address the social and political context of that year. In the years ahead, municipal and county government officials face unfathomable challenges in recovery and reconstruction stemming from COVID-19. Programs such as Boston AIR and Los Angeles County's Creative Strategist Artist-in-Residence have demonstrated that artists working in partnership with government are essential workers who bring creative practices and solutions to issues that municipalities face. Local arts councils and commissions often play a big role in conceiving and coordinating these programs in tandem with local government.

We all know that the arts can be seen as superfluous, or non-essential, especially in times of crisis or economic hardship. This was certainly the case for the small, working-class community of Elysian Valley (aka Frogtown), a mixed-use neighborhood along the Los Angeles River in the center of the city. In the middle of the last decade, residents of the area (with a mixture of Latino and Asian ancestries) co-existed uneasily with a small group of artists and craftspeople who (sometimes illegally) occupied the former manufacturing buildings lining the river. The relationship between the two groups was non-existent at best, and full of suspicion at worst. In 2006, a small group of artists, architects, and craftspeople came together to create the first Frogtown Artwalk. The event was intended to bring together and to support the creative group of individuals operating “in the shadows” of the area. The initial Artwalk, held in November, was small, underlit, and sparsely attended—nevertheless, an arts community was born.

We need to celebrate the important work that artists do every day. They imagine creative courses to solve problems. They create welcoming spaces to exercise cultural and civil rights and to challenge the status quo. They orchestrate rituals of spiritual and emotional healing. They configure single words, movements, marks, sounds to make meaning, purpose, and full-on expressions of beauty that remind us of the most fundamental things we humans share. Especially now, as we strategize to ensure that artists are supported and integrated into COVID-19 recovery and reconstruction, we need ready stories of their unique contributions substantiated with the real impacts of their approaches. Beginning with this post, a new ARTSblog series will celebrate the 11 music artists who were the exemplary nominees for the 2020 Johnson Fellowship for Artists Transforming Communities. Vastly different in their artistry—from classical orchestral work and blues, gospel, and American roots traditions to punk rock, improvisational, and genre stretching forms—each artist in their own right is advancing community, civic, and social goals.

Cultural space doesn’t just live in traditional retail space. Cultural space is born where culture thrives. While on the surface it seems that four artists created the Black art center Wa Na Wari, it is actually the continuation of the legacy of Frank and Goldyne Green, who were cultural space activists before there were words for this type of work. We don’t always think of our family homes as cultural spaces, but this Green home, and their other five properties, operated in this way. After the passing of Frank Green, artists Inye Wokoma, Jill Freidberg, Rachel Kessler, and I wondered what it would mean to rent it for a year as a cultural center. This social practice project was about the act of reclaiming so much of what has been lost in Seattle’s Central District. Our formerly redlined neighborhood has experienced drastic gentrification and displacement of our Black community. A neighborhood that was at one time 80% African American is now less than 10% Black. Wa Na Wari explores what it means for Black people to reclaim space in gentrified communities. Wa Na Wari is an art house and a community organizing effort. It is a model for how black homeowners can stay in their homes while also convening around black art. 

“We own what we make.” That’s the watchword of a national grassroots-to-grassroots coalition called Performing Our Future, which we both help lead. It unites communities across the country who have spent generations resisting economic exploitation—who historically have not owned what they make—and who have long been set against each other along racial, political, regional, and rural-urban lines. How have these communities come together? Through the work of cultural organizing. Cultural organizing is not the same as conventional community organizing or activism. Conventional community organizing and activism typically work from deficits: identify what’s missing in our communities, find and mobilize the people who agree with you, call out the inequity and injustice, and fight the bad guys. In the coalfields of East Kentucky and the inner city of West Baltimore, where we work, this usually means “organizing around” problems like unemployment, drugs, or disenfranchisement. Sometimes a meeting might start with a poem, or a protest might include beautiful puppets. But that’s still not cultural organizing. Cultural organizing is more than activism-plus-art.

COVID-19 has heightened the stress levels in lower-income families and put people in extreme survival mode. If you’re not on the top of the socioeconomic ladder, this is a very scary time with lots of uncertainties. Removing vital systems of support like school and community programs throws people into a fear-filled tailspin. We started doing a lot of arts integration work back in 2007 with a couple of different school districts, and we found that because of the shift in budgets teachers began teaching P.E. To support them, we build a hip-hop dance-inspired, web-based learning platform called PassToClass.com. Because of COVID-19, we offered free access to PassToClass.com to all our school partners as a fitness and creative expression resource for distance learning. We need to expand access as much as possible right now. Partnering with creative nonprofits that have tight community ties and boots on the ground means our under-resourced communities get the information and resources they need to stay safe.

In 2020, the convergence of Americans for the Arts’ Annual Convention with the refreshed and expanded Public Art & Civic Design Conference will spark a new level of conversation and thinking. The new shifts in format and structure that we’re setting up this year will make for an even more interactive and energizing conference, with over 50 sessions, more than 1,000 professionals from across a variety of sectors, and more opportunities to learn and network with colleagues from all 50 states and around the world. These two annual events—happening June 26-28 in Washington, D.C.—are the best place to come together with the full spectrum of people who are working to center the arts in equitable community development and creative placemaking. We are excited about holding these meetings in Washington, D.C. because the city and surrounding communities are about much more than national politics. It is a great place to engage in really deep and meaningful conversations about how we all work to make our communities the best they can be.

As we turned the corner into 2020, the Americans for the Arts staff put our heads together to come up with 10 big trends that we think are worth paying attention to this year. Together, these ten trends will inform Americans for the Arts’ next strategic planning process, which will occur this year to drive our work from 2021 to 2023. Some of them you’ll surely already know about—it is an election year, after all! But others may surprise you. From demographics to climate change to the creative economy and more, take a read and let us know what you think—what resonates most with you? What is top of your mind that is missing here? And what are you planning to do to prepare? 

For systemic change to take place, anti-oppression work compels us to examine our organizational core values and how they’re manifest in our processes, in order to critically identify where there are gaps to be filled. These gaps are then addressed by examining how we’re allocating our time, resources, and power to build our staff, board, communities, and audiences. More significantly, anti-oppression work requires us to fill these gaps through staffing, curatorial, and artistic choices that advance inclusivity and representation in order to address racial injustices. Anti-oppression work looks like a life-long commitment to equity, diversity, and inclusion; it is a continuous process of active learning in which artists and arts leaders pursue change, while leaving a map for those who are doing the work with us, to ensure that this work is sustained and remains constant.

As a queer, North Korean immigrant whose family has been displaced from our native land for three generations, Andrea Smith’s framework of the “Heteropatriarchy and Three Pillars of White Supremacy” helped me understand how my own experiences as a perpetual Other (and potential “terrorist threat” from the Axis of Evil) is connected to a larger system of white supremacy. Therefore, to fully pursue our company’s artistic mission of creating a culture of peace and nonviolence, I searched for ways to align our company’s work with ongoing efforts to attain racial justice, while decolonizing my practice within arts and cultural institutions. But how does this framework become activated into something practical and real? How does one create cultural change? How do I affirm my relationships to others, to the land I stand upon, and honor my interdependence with our collective struggles? 

In a process that began over a year ago, the Arts have gained increased support and funding through the Congressional appropriations process. While traditional legislative priorities—the National Endowment for the Arts, the National Endowment for the Humanities, arts education, etc.—garnered increased funding and support language from legislators, new areas—creative arts therapies for veterans and service members and arts programs for at-risk youths—also were recognized and encouraged by appropriators for the fiscal year (FY) 2020 funding cycle. These additional legislative wins were made possible by an active Congressional Arts Caucus and Senate Cultural Caucus, a growing coalition of pro-arts organizations, and motivated grassroots advocates in every state. As the FY 2021 appropriations process is set to begin next week with the delivery of President Trump’s budget to Congress (scheduled for Feb. 10), our work to build off last year’s successes has already begun. Collaboration with our National Partners on the key issues for the 2020 Congressional Arts Handbook are ongoing, and we are gearing up for the 2020 National Arts Action Summit. 

One can only wonder what Marshall McLuhan, who coined the phrase “The medium is the message,” would have thought about the Rest Stop Theatre Project, a novel outdoor mobile experience that takes place in the back of a beat-up pickup truck. Produced by Benjamin Rexroad and Kyle Jozsa of Wandering Aesthetics (an Akron, Ohio-based storytelling theatre company), Rest Stop Theatre featured a cast of four actors running through compelling non-partisan scenes designed to increase local voting participation in the 2016 presidential election. The rollicking performance included a bit of improv, sketch comedy, and audience participation—which Wandering Aesthetics has earned a reputation for. They put on 10 performances across different parking lots and neighborhoods in Akron, exploring the many facets that make up the culture of voting.

While many people go to the theater to relax and be entertained after a busy day, the moviegoers at The Nightlight Cinema go there not to get away from it all—but instead are seeking community engagement. Opened in 2014 in Akron, Ohio, this art house’s mission is to create a place where cinema and community exist in tandem. Open nightly, it provides a classy nightspot where patrons can enjoy the cinematic art form and explore new ideas as part of a thoughtful community. For instance, after the screening of Inside Akron’s Tent City, a locally produced documentary that premiered at the 43rd Cleveland International Film Festival, The Nightlight Cinema added extra show dates at its theater to keep the homelessness crisis at the forefront of people’s minds. The film resonated with the city in many ways and helped people empathize with those who are homeless.

As we ring in 2020, it’s the perfect time for a little hindsight (get it?)—so let’s get the year started with a look back at the most-viewed ARTSblog posts from our last trip around the sun. I know what you’re thinking: “It’s 2020 … you still have a blog?” We do, dear reader! Competition for online attention is fierce, and most virtual conversations (civil or not) seem to be happening in the comments of social media posts—and yet, ARTSblog clearly is still a valued place for our field to share experience and expertise as we navigate the varied complexities of what it means to work in the arts. There is no better place to learn from your peers, whether you’re an artist, administrator, educator, city planner, arts marketer, or countless other careers that intersect with the arts—and we’re grateful for all of the writers and readers who continue to make ARTSblog both a vibrant and practical space.