WHEN MY FRIEND’S GRANT 
FEELS LIKE MINE





Within, against, and beyond the atomization of art institutions.

ISSUE 1: THE UN/MAKING ISSUE




Words and Art by Roopa Vasudevan



As I scroll through my social media feeds, I am often hit with two competing emotions. The first is an awe-inspiring sense of joy as the algorithms saturate my feed with posts about protests, strikes and labor actions, fundraising initiatives, and calls to action.1 These posts provide evidence of people rising up together, as one, to stand for causes they believe in.

The second emotion is a creeping sense of jealousy. It is a bittersweet undercurrent that appears when I see friends and colleagues secure opportunities that previously rejected me; have their art exhibited in renowned museums and galleries; or receive significant awards that seem to validate their practices and allow them to expand and develop their work.

I have been conditioned to believe that only a small number of artists are ever going to flourish—that my friend’s triumph means that I have missed out. The routes to success that are valued by the art world have taught me to see my fellow practitioners as “competition,” an impulse that, as much as I hate it, persists in manifesting itself. I have struggled with the resulting feelings of inadequacy for as long as I have been practicing as an artist. But, over time, I have realized that success in artmaking is not a zero-sum game. Through unpacking the origins of these sentiments, along with developing meaningful connections with fellow artists, I have begun to question this default way of evaluating success and failure in creative practice. Rather, we might reconsider the structures that lead us to this atomized approach—where artists compete for scarce resources and opportunities—and instead begin to devise modes of reciprocal exchange that turn the dominant scarcity mindset of artistic value into one rooted in abundance.


Scarcity is a driving force of the art world as it is traditionally conceived.2 The institutional framework fueled by museums, galleries, and academic institutions systematically limits recognition to a select few. Despite many, many talented and deserving artists out there, only a handful will ever receive big awards, high-profile exhibitions, or broad recognition. This outcome is unsurprising given the art world’s foundation of platforming and celebrating the individual. As anthropologist Dorinne Kondo outlines, art is frequently seen as “the outpouring of divine inspiration channeled through an artistic genius.”3 Atomizing artists in this way leads to several problematic outcomes: We study specific artists as representatives of multifaceted canons; elevate “visionaries” to whom we ascribe the foresight to embrace aesthetic and cultural paradigm shifts; and posthumously celebrate overlooked artists while continuing to ignore the many contemporary practitioners lacking adequate resources, legitimization, or support.

Refuting notions of the individual “aesthetic sublime,” Kondo—building on scholars like Howard Becker and Pierre Bourdieu—notes that although it is not always seen this way, artmaking is fundamentally a labor practice, and it is time we started viewing it as such. This is maybe more resonant today than at any time in the recent past, as we see a resurgence of organized labor movements both inside and outside of the cultural sector. Protests, refusals, and actions by artists and culture workers have also, in several instances, successfully led to change in curatorial practices4 and museum leadership,5 as well as divestment from law enforcement,6 fossil fuels,7 and the global military-industrial complex.8 The successes and challenges of organized labor and social movements teach us the importance of building solidarity among many in order to spur change.


As socially engaged artists and culture workers, we must take it upon ourselves to act in order to establish for ourselves how we can achieve social and economic justice within the art world.




As we move through this particularly fraught moment in our politics and social norms, it stands to reason that arts organizations may feel compelled to showcase and emphasize their attunement to issues of justice and equity. But when it comes to facilitating art practice, models of collectivity can be easily stymied by the models of individual valorization, hierarchy, and domination that are celebrated and perpetuated in the art world.9 While artists are theoretically encouraged to think collectively, create work for social change, and upend the ways in which we consider structures of power, the models of success towards which we are most frequently directed are still often guided by the scarcity mindset inherent to both the commercial art market and capitalism at large. This begs the question of whether arts organizations are being disingenuous10 in their stated desire for social impact—and, if so, what artists can do to make sure that their true values are reflected and upheld in how their work exists in the world.

As socially engaged artists and culture workers, we must take it upon ourselves to act—both within and against the institutions that seem to determine our worth and value—in order to establish for ourselves how we can achieve social and economic justice within the art world. By reconceptualizing how we operate within systems that are already set up for us, we might strategically utilize models meant to atomize and isolate in service of more abundant forms of reciprocity, support, and community care.

Paul Soulellis has conceptualized the idea of urgentcraft as an antidote to the exceptionalism that pervades art making and art education: practices that center “creative acts of labor—documenting, agitating, redistributing, and interfering with power.”11 While the atomization of individuals remains entrenched in the current institutional models, more and more artists are beginning to use the resources and clout that they obtain via traditional channels to pointedly upend and realign power within their own creative practices. This often includes artists working within established systems to advocate and distribute resources for their community. The artists who engage with these practices, which I envision as an extension of urgentcraft into what I call urgent networks, make the redistribution of recognition and resources central to their creative work—using opportunities that might be meant for more traditional conceptions of artmaking to instead uplift and support others.

  

No single person makes art, or initiates change, alone.



In 2022, upon being awarded a coveted Fellowship from the Pew Center for Arts and Heritage, artist Rami George launched the P(h)ew Microgrant. In this initiative, George allocated ten percent of their funding to redistribute money to sixteen Philadelphia-based queer and trans artists.12 The Pew Fellowship is a prestigious award in Philadelphia that carries significant clout for recipient artists. George strategically used this to advocate for artists who also need support but might lack access to such opportunities. This initiative exemplifies the idea of lifting others up with you, and utilizing one’s privilege to share the resources afforded to you by success.

Similarly, Fei Liu’s work No Title; No Deed redistributed 75% of the funding received from the Onassis Foundation USA’s Eureka Grant as “monthly unrestricted cash assistance to two families living in Central and South Brooklyn over a 6-month period”13 (with the remaining funds used for taxes). Liu also cultivated deeper relationships with the recipients, serving as a mentor and supporting them in matters both personal and professional. In this instance, financial redistribution and mutual aid is the work—by design, there is no required output or preserved art-object that can be displayed in museums and galleries.

Another example is Bail Bloc, a 2017 project itself built by a large group of people—Grayson Earle, Francis Tseng, JB Rubinovitz, Sam Lavigne, Rachel Rosenfelt, Madeleine Varner, Dhruv Mehrotra, Lou Cornum, and the Dark Inquiry collective—to “volunteer your computer's spare power to get people out of jail.”14 The software-based artwork uses volunteers’ personal computers to mine cryptocurrency, which is then donated to bail funds. The project is simultaneously a critical examination of cryptocurrency as well as a tangible effort to intervene in the US criminal justice system. Its success depends on mass buy-in and the efforts of a large group of people.

Inspired by these efforts, along with deeper reflections on the potential for change within the structures of surveillance capitalism and corporate control in which artists are embedded, I launched the Strategic Transparency Network in 2020. This network aims to build a collective of practitioners committing to ethical, inclusive, and values-centric approaches to creative technology that do not reinforce or uphold the paradigms espoused by Big Tech. The project began with personal reflections on how uncomfortable I was becoming, as an artist working with new media, with the influence of the consumer tech industry on my creative practice15—and an awareness that if I was feeling this way, I probably was not the only one. In this way, I was driven by a desire to push back against the atomization of artists in my field of art and technology; rather than thinking of my ethical discomfort and mounting concerns as an individual problem that I simply had to get over in order to succeed in my field, I instead moved to bring my community together to collectively begin the process of untangling the thorny complicities and relationships with corporate and industrial technology in which we often find ourselves embedded.

Premised on a philosophy of strategic transparency—which I developed to offer a mode of abetting change by strategically taking advantage of assumptions made by those in power16—the Network advocates for a thorough understanding of the role of artists in the perpetuation of dominant technological systems in order to subvert or counter those expectations. Initially launched as a series of virtual workshops during the first throes of the COVID-19 pandemic, the project has expanded to include exhibitions, book projects, and an independent press imprint. Simultaneously, it is encapsulated in a series of ever-expanding manifestos17 collaboratively authored by over 70 arts workers, with many more contributions to come. These manifestos outline a set of beliefs and commitments that we can each fold into our personal practices. And while I launched the project individually, it is my hope that it will evolve beyond me, becoming less tied to my personal artistic goals and more inclusive of anyone who wants to take some form of ownership.


It is worth re-emphasizing that no single person makes art, or initiates change, alone; we are always connected by an extensive web of mutual support. As George, Liu, and the Dark Inquiry Collective demonstrate, understanding and exercising strategic transparency within widely accepted routes to atomized success and acclaim might actually allow for the development of those urgent networks, which can open more doors for more people. Although traditional art world accolades and success are most  often awarded on an individual level, it doesn’t mean that artist practices have to remain siloed or detached from solidarity. If we just frame it differently, it turns out that there are more than enough flowers out there for us all.



NOTES

1.  Many of these social movements operate in tandem with the arts spaces and organizations that I have, over time, affiliated myself with. There is, in fact, a large overlap between my artist and activist social circles. It is heartening and empowering to be able to see strength in numbers, to see the participation of my friends and fellow artists, and to know that—although we can sometimes feel isolated—we are not alone in our commitment to building a more just and equitable world.


2. Following sociologist Howard Becker (1982), I acknowledge here that there is not one, singular art world; instead, there are multiple art worlds, which overlap, intersect, influence, and contradict each other. Here, I speak of the ways in which artists (in my own anecdotal experience) have been professionalized in our practices to consider specific achievements, goals, and honorifics as indicators of wider success.

3. Kondo, D. (2018, p. 54). Worldmaking: Race, Performance, and the Work of Creativity. Durham, NC: Duke University Press.

4. Valentina Di Liscia, "Whitney Museum Cancels Exhibition After Criticism Over Acquisition Process," Hyperallergic, 2020, https://hyperallergic.com/584340/whitney-museum-black-lives-matter-covid-19-exhibition-canceled/

5. Alex Greenberger, "Warren Kanders Resigns from Whitney Board After Months of Controversy," ARTnews, 2019, https://www.artnews.com/art-news/news/warren-kanders-resigns-whitney-13036/



6. Hakim Bishara, "Walker Art Center Cuts Ties With Minneapolis Police Department," Hyperallergic, 2020, https://hyperallergic.com/568791/walker-art-center-minneapolis-police-department/

7. Jaspreet Kaur, "Art & Fossil Fuels: The Role of Cultural Institutions in Climate Justice," ICAAD, 2023, https://icaad.ngo/2023/08/14/art-fossil-fuels/

8. BlackStar, "PACBI Statement," BlackStar Film Festival, 2023, https://www.blackstarfest.org/news/blog/pacbi/

9.  As an example: the fifteenth edition of Documenta (a major contemporary art exhibition series held every five years in Germany), organized by Indonesian art collective ruangrupa, was meant to demonstrate institutional embrace of justice-oriented practice; the festival’s intent was to be a celebration of collective unity, emphasizing “an alternative, community-oriented model of sustainability, in ecological, social, and economic terms – where resources, ideas, or knowledge are shared.” However, controversy stemming from instrumentalized accusations of antisemitism leveled at Documenta (for decisions to show anti-Zionist work and to platform a Palestinian art collective) overshadowed this celebration, led to withdrawal of institutional support, and served to reify the repression of collective voices. from ruangrupa, "documenta fifteen," documenta, 2022, https://www.documenta.de/en/retrospective/documenta_fifteen; “We are angry, we are sad, we are tired, we are united: Letter from lumbung community”, e-flux, 2022, https://www.e-flux.com/notes/489580/we-are-angry-we-are-sad-we-are-tired-we-are-united-letter-from-lumbung-community.

10. Admittedly, this is often driven by funders and philanthropic models, particularly in the US where state arts funding is scarce and the importance of art is often delegitimized in wider public discourse. This simply reinforces the idea that there is only so much that organizations can do to support artists who adhere to alternative models of making and being; ultimately, they are as beholden to the demands of capitalism as the rest of us.

13.  Fei Liu, "Explorations in Social Practice," Try To Be Good, 2023, https://www.trytobegood.com/explorations-social-practice
14.  "Bail Bloc, The New Inquiry, 2017 https://bailbloc.thenewinquiry.com/about.html


15.  This also motivated a larger body of research into the relationships between new media artists and the tech industry, which spanned interviews, autoethnography, archival work, and the development of the workshops I mention here (see Vasudevan, R. (2023). High-Level Creativity: New Media Art and the Priorities of the Tech Industry (Publication no. 30529471) [Doctoral dissertation]. ProQuest Dissertations & Theses Global.).

16.  Roopa Vasudevan, Transparency, Hypervisibility, Revelation: On Modalities of Creative Resistance. Amherst, MA: Strategic Transparency Press [self-published], 2024.

17.  Strategic Transparency Network, “The Manifestos.” In R. Vasudevan (ed.), We Refuse, We Want, We Commit: The Manifestos for Creative Resistance in Technology. Self-published, 2023. https://book.strategictransparency.network/vol1/manifestos/

This article appears in the UN/MAKING issue.
FORTUNATELY MAGAZINE STORIES
SHOP
ABOUT
hello@fortunately.usFortunately Magazine is a publication developed by the Boston Ujima Project, Inc.@fortunatelymag©2025, All Rights Reserved.