Artist Profile: Borealis
Borealis is a nonbinary, transdisciplinary social artist leveraging education, conversation, performance and writing for peer queer empowerment and community wellbeing. They also serve as Arts + Literature Laboratory’s Education & Outreach Director.
1) What challenges have you encountered to being a professional artist in 2020?
This question is particularly potent during the pressure of the current pandemics (COVID-19 and persistent state violence and neglect). Sure, my income has dropped by as much as a third and it’s more difficult than ever to envision stability—but creative financial maneuvers by individuals and the collectives that facilitate mutual aid have been strengths of social practice artists (and other organizers) surviving this white supremacist capitalist patriarchy for longer than these “unprecedented” times. Establishing financial viability in my practice has historically looked like pairing social practice projects with the sale of small artifacts or artworks in order to make rent and build capacity. These days, it looks like comparing notes with other self-employed artists to knowledgeably apply for relief grants or unemployment; to re-distribute our stimulus checks to protestors; to share the lasagna made by our ‘Foodshare;’ to pass along commission opportunities; to buy face masks made by fellow artists; and to host donation-based online gatherings that help us afford our asthma medications.
As far as (prior) creative challenges, my work has been labeled too queer or not queer enough. Or not artistic enough, or even not social enough. Or—when talking about disability—a practice that certain audiences might pity. Maintaining focus in my work means paying close attention to where those competing reactions are coming from; paying attention to the circles that my privilege (as a white person, with college degrees, who speaks English in Madison, etc) takes me to and pushing back on them in a way that both improves my practice plus sheds light on the power dynamics that unfold in this art scene.
I’m sure that these challenges or processes of creative calibration are not news to artists working in—and out—of the margins. I hope more artists will speak up about what has realistically worked for them and what systems were never designed to work for them in the first place.
2) Any tips for artists looking to create more “authentic” professional connections?
Taking a genuine interest in other artists’ work is both practical and fulfilling—and it’s what I would focus on first if I started my practice all over again. Paying attention to other artists sheds light on where and how they get support or meaningful feedback for their work (and how you or I might, too). It establishes mutual accountability for our creative output, asking us to be, do and create more purposeful art as a community. Taking a genuine interest in peer artists fuels a culture of resource sharing and mutual care. Staying “tuned in” to each other’s practices means that we’ll have a network of possibilities when collaborative commission opportunities come up; or new job openings; or exhibition opportunities; or publications. Peer artists become the trouble-shooting confidantes who help us work through unique challenges and opportunities as they arise in real time. We need each other, not as human tools for survival, but as accomplices in making our work real and relevant.
Competitive art-making is an uncomfortable reality here; by expressing authentic interest in each other, we can amplify the diversity of voices coming out of this city (Madison) and celebrate our creative offerings. There was a time when I felt like I was one of only a few out or highly visible trans, nonbinary artists in the city; forcing me to speak on behalf of too many people and feeling isolated. Now that I’ve done my own rounds of reaching out and learning about and raising up other trans artists’ work, I can feel the benefits of the conversations happening between our practices; stirring nuance; establishing legitimacy; creating mutual momentum and possibility.
As a white, social practice artist and educator, it’s my particular responsibility to understand where saviorism and racism have fueled the fields I associate myself with. By supporting other artists, I have a better chance of understanding the gaps in my own perspective; the innovation percolating all around Madison; and the ways in which I can take meaningful action to contribute to community dialogue and change.
3) How do you continue to expand your artist “toolbox”?
I love the process of inquiry, synthesis, confusion and elaboration that comes with the research phase of a project. Outside of learning about peer artists’ work, reading and writing are the main ways I complicate and deepen my practice; it’s how I stay focused before, during and after a project. Sometimes it feels like the majority of my practice happens in my notebooks or the Notes app of my phone.
Over time, I’ve also tried to work on my ability to receive critique. Outside of an academic context, open critique and focused feedback have not been a given in my experience as a working artist. Seeking feedback and being brave enough to engage with critique honestly has evolved my practice in important ways.
4) Give an example of an "artistic collaboration" you're currently involved with.
Aside from my collaborative educational work at Arts + Literature Laboratory, I’m working on a social project called “Here + Elsewhere” with peer artist nibiiwakamigkwe and with support from Max Puchalsky at Midwest Story Lab. “Here + Elsewhere” is intended to promote transparency in the City of Madison’s urban planning processes while getting input from more folks about the future possibilities for our city, specifically near Odana Road and the greater area around East Towne Mall.
Single-use commercial development with car-centric access, like those in the East and West Towne Mall regions, produce a physical sense of isolation—particularly as they’re designed to serve a narrow and privileged population. When co-designing our project, collaborating artist nibiiwakamigkwe felt that this sense of isolation called to mind the Anishinaabe concept of aandakii, which means elsewhere and can apply to a place without a name, an unknown or a spirit world. When nibiiwakamigkwe introduces themself, they say oodena-aandakiide-wiinibiigoo-aki ndaa which means I live in a-town-elsewhere-on-Ho-Chunk-land since there isn't an Anishinaabe/Ojibwe word for this place. In this way, Madison is a migratory city; these mall regions similarly hover between their status as real, static locations and a transitory space not otherwise resided in—an elsewhere place. This project aims to hold Indigenous knowledge of the larger region as elsewhere and contemporary perspectives of how these locations can function as dynamic, responsive places here and now (for more than just shoppers or profit-driven developers). Mapping, community meals, directed interviews and interactive photography projects will sketch portraits of the kind of city we all want to live in as the relevance of the malls fades away.
Our work as artists in this project is an ongoing process of translation. What are the people saying we want and need? How do key players in the city make decisions; and what are the most effective ways to voice community members’ creative visions for these sites? In many of the City’s recent neighborhood planning processes, their staff have named that Madison’s population will grow and that we’ll need to accommodate many new residents to our city. But how do we house and feed the people who live here now? How do we support the wellbeing of housing insecure families looking to maintain their roots here? How do we design neighborhoods that are accessible, sustainable, and liveable—that is to say, how do we plan for neighborhoods that are safe from police violence; that share power in their decision-making; that are visionary in their future-building? It’s the job of artists to bridge worlds. Or to bridge the community we write about on paper and the community we’re shaping into the future.
Working collaboratively makes this project and others like it so much more meaningful than if any of us tried to do the work on our own. This is a city-funded social art engagement, which would make it easy to fall into the narratives that the state wants…checking whatever boxes that have been laid out for us. By working together, we have the collective power to subvert this commission and stoke more equitable visions for our city’s future.