Art is embedded into Seattle, with murals sprawled on buildings, outdoor creations installed at parks and art exhibits available almost every day. However, beginning an artistic career in the Emerald City isn’t cheap. Aspiring artists have to take into consideration the rising costs of living and work endlessly to establish themselves.
That is why Living Artist Collective (LAC), a nonprofit organization focusing on empowering low-income artists, has for the first time awarded $1,000 each to three local and emerging artists to use however they want, be it to fund their art projects or pay their bills. The 2023 receipients of the Living Artists Grant were announced Feb. 2: the creator of Seattle Stories and the artists AshaAung Helmstetter and Rowan Eriksson.
LAC was created in 2020 with the mission of connecting artists to career opportunities and resources that would help them continue living in Seattle. The organization originally ran art shows and operated collaborative spaces for artists, paying a fair rate for displaying their artwork. It transitioned into a nonprofit in 2021 as a way to generate more robust economic opportunities for low-income artists.
LAC’s efforts came at a time when local exhibitions, museums, and arts and culture programs were still reeling from the effects of the COVID-19 shutdowns. In a 2022 financial report, ArtsFund, a nonprofit that provides financial support to numerous Washington-based art organizations, found that across 121 arts and culture organizations there was a 21% decrease in overall revenue.
To raise enough money for the grants, LAC allocated funds from its 2023 annual fundraiser and ran an online donation campaign. Alaina Stocker, founder and executive director of LAC, always wanted to create a way of subsidizing artists’ living expenses. LAC launched the grant in December 2023, making it a priority to ensure the application process wasn’t a heavy burden for artists. They only had to submit samples of their work and respond to standard questions that helped the judges understand who they were as an artist.
“We [didn’t] want there to be a ton of work for the artists applying for the grant. A lot of artist grants are available these days, but they require just hours and hours of work and creating custom stuff in order to apply,” Stocker said. “We wanted to tie in actively involving the artists with our programming — not just [say], ‘Here’s some money, now go about your business.’ We wanted to help them with the application process and help them get all of the art and business stuff in line so that they could apply to our grant, but [also] so they could be better set up to apply for other grants as well.”
Look into their eyes, hear their voices
This grant was the first the creator of Seattle Stories, a series focused on unhoused people living in Seattle, won as an independent artist. The artist wants to remain anonymous to keep the focus on the people they interview rather than themselves. Their minute-long videos circulate through social media and showcase a person’s story to try to get the general public to look beyond someone’s current housing situation.
Many of the 120 people Seattle Stories interviewed have shared their passions, strengths and aspirations, along with the challenges they face being unhoused. While the stories tend to be short, Seattle Stories says their conversations with unhoused folks can go in-depth, with a majority of them sharing common experiences of being dehumanized in Seattle. The artist sees this series as more than just content — it’s an opportunity for housed Seattleites to learn who their unhoused neighbors are.
“A big part of it is to tell [their] stories so that the viewers have to look into this person’s eyes, they have to hear their voice and see their name. You have to work really hard to dehumanize someone after seeing that,” Seattle Stories said. “How do I shift that negative stereotype and narrative that a lot of [housed] folks have? Because maybe they just don’t know.”
Another motivator that pushed the artist to create Seattle Stories was to learn more about their own unhoused neighbors. Before beginning the project, the artist says they were questioning a lot in their life. They had been recently laid off and were also coping with the death of their father. They went back and forth in deciding whether to look for a job in corporate America or create something that had the potential to not only help people but also connect them to each other. In the beginning of 2023, the artist stepped into their neighborhood with filming equipment and began conversations with their unhoused neighbors. The least they could do in supporting people experiencing homelessness, they said, was offer the time and effort of sharing their stories.
A major learning curve the artist experienced was grappling with the complexities around being unhoused. They described the multiple encampment sweeps throughout Seattle as the city displaces residents from their community as a “chaotic wave.” Encampment residents have told the artist that they’ve received offers to stay at a temporary shelter or haven’t been offered anything. But the artist came to understand that one type of solution isn’t necessarily meeting the needs of individuals with ties to an existing group or location.
“Within all of these complicated solutions and resources, I had to go [with] what am I good at,” they said. “I’m good at photography, videography and some audio stuff. I’m okay with talking [to] some people, and so I thought, ‘How could I do this piece really well?’
“There [are] a lot of organizations that are giving out coats and sleeping bags, and I could do that with Seattle Stories. But I have to go to what Seattle Stories is really good at. I want to keep it focused on the people and their voice’s [because] they don’t really get to use their voice much.”
In an effort to promote equity, Seattle Stories pays $20 to each person filmed for the series. However, this isn’t a sustainable model, they say, as they are currently unemployed and were worried about the longevity of the project. So, winning the Living Artists Grant came at a perfect time. All of the grant money will be used to pay unhoused people featured in the series.
The artist said that applying for the grant was nerve-wracking but worth it if it meant extending the lifeline of this project that has already allowed so many to connect and share their stories.
“I feel like every experience, all the therapy and all the stuff that’s happened to me, has led me up to this point to do what I’m doing. I feel like I’m meant to do this right now. So I clearly believe in it 110%, and it’s risky. That risk comes with uncertainty,” the artist said. “But, I’m still figuring it out.”
'It's my freedom'
AshaAung Helmstetter believes it’s important to celebrate and acknowledge deceased artists who’ve made their mark within the art world but that same courtesy should be given to those still living. In 2020, Helmstetter joined LAC not only to learn but also because of how the organization recognizes an artist’s creative process and different skill level, whether they are experienced or just getting started. Helmstetter, who was featured in Real Change in June 2021, has struggled with navigating the predominately white art industry as a BIPOC artist. When trying to take art classes in Seattle, she noticed the curriculum was often influenced by European standards. That didn’t resonate with Helmstetter, who wanted to create art that didn’t fall under one specific category.
“This overall narrative that I’ve heard throughout my life is, ‘Go to school; your art is not representational enough to be this sort of art. Your art is not abstract enough to be this sort of art.’ And I’m sick of all these labels. Let me just make what I want to make,” Helmstetter said. “When we have so many points in terms of what art is supposed to be, and then I look at my paintings and I don’t feel my paintings falling into these categories, I don’t understand why I’m supposed then to use the terms that white people have given to describe my art. My art is what makes me feel free — it’s my freedom.”
Movement is a main focus throughout her pieces, which feature vibrant colors, distinctive silhouettes and patterns. Helmstetter hopes to invoke curiosity from viewers who want to stare at and feel connected to her and her art.
Helmstetter calls her works “Freedom Paintings” as a way to reclaim control as an artist and to be the only person to determine what she’s able to create.
Growing up, Helmstetter was always surrounded by art. Her parents and siblings are artists. Helmstetter was encouraged to draw on her bedroom walls whenever she felt like it, and her dad would put together monthly art shows within their house. Her family’s uncomplicated approach to art is why Helmstetter wasn’t keen on using specific labels to define her artwork.
Fed up with the misunderstanding toward her work, Helmstetter sought out spaces that would recognize her distinct style. She’s worked with the Northwest African American Museum and Onyx Gallery and recently completed a residency at Wa Na Wari, all organizations that work to uplift Black artists. Helmstetter felt admired and appreciated during her time working at these art spaces, which also offered opportunities for her to give back to her community. Coming from feeling isolated during the pandemic, Helmstetter yearned for connections.
Once the COVID-19 lockdown was lifted, she began to teach art classes at SilverKite Community Arts and The Mahogany Project. As a teacher, Helmstetter was able to create a curriculum with her students that wouldn’t restrict creativity. But being an art teacher isn’t providing enough income for Helmstetter, who also works as a dancer in addition to her art.
Before receiving the Living Artists Grant, Helmstetter often considered alternatives when buying art supplies due to how expensive they are. She and her partner have considered building large canvases themselves instead of buying ones that are priced above $50. In her art process, Helmstetter often thinks about money, contemplating how she can create something with a limited budget. She focuses her energy on grants, residencies and her connection to multiple art organizations to find resources to support her career.
Receiving the Living Artists Grant made it so Helmstetter was able to pay her rent in full and can focus on buying art supplies for her next Freedom Painting.
'I'm not alone'
Rowan Eriksson was looking for a sense of community when they moved from Florida to Seattle. Back home, everything is spread out, which left them struggling to find a group to work and bond with. The work culture in Florida, they said, was toxic; they would receive weird or confused stares when they’d mention being an artist, followed up with questions about how Eriksson is able to make enough money. So they moved to the Pacific Northwest, where they’re now in awe of how many artists wanted to work with them. Eriksson joined LAC in 2021 with the intention of building a greater connection between them and the Seattle art community.
“Isolation made me a lot more of a collaborative artist for sure. I’m really influenced by other mediums. I have friends in [LAC] who are writers, who do leather work or pottery,” they said. “I feel like being around all these diverse voices is really helpful for me, because once you’re into a niche, you can then forget about the rest of the world a little bit.”
Eriksson approaches their artwork with this collaborative mindset. When it comes to creating something, they don’t rely entirely on a singular idea but pull from sources like music, pop culture or the current political climate. They said trying to be precise almost always backfires on them. They utilize their sketchbook to collage images and drawings that fit under overall themes, then they translate these ideas into realist and narrative paintings.
This explorative process was how Eriksson became an artist, starting with a comic book class. Comic books were a way for Eriksson to communicate without having to always use words, which they struggle with due to an auditory disorder. Erikkson transitioned to painting when studying at the University of Florida. They took what they’d learned about narrative storytelling from comic books and used it in their paintings. To them, narrative storytelling can range from something as mundane as drinking coffee to something as fantastical as “The Birth of Venus.”
“In my art, I’m thinking I’m working through my frustrations a little bit. I really make my art for myself; it’s almost like my diary piece. There’s a lot of humor in my work, and sometimes it’s aggressive and violent,” Eriksson said.
“There’s a scene in my work of being devoured, and that’s how it feels sometimes in our culture. We’re something to be consumed or to be consuming. That’s just frustrating to me, because it’s either producing things to be consumed, or you better be consuming other stuff.
“I was attracted to [LAC] because for me it was one of the only ways to escape this capitalistic culture of [being] self-serving and individualistic. Being a part of a group is a good way for me to feel that I’m not just looking out for myself. I’m not alone.”
Another aspect that Eriksson appreciated about LAC was how simple it was to access the grant. They’ve noticed a pattern of elitist language and requirements around applications for residencies, grants or apprenticeships, which has discouraged them in the past. Difficult application processes made them feel as though those opportunities were only for more experienced artists. However, there wasn’t as much academic or coded language within LAC’s application. Ericksson felt intimidated, but they were coached through the application with support from LAC staff members, which eased the pressure.
Eriksson used the grant to pay for all of their art supplies — including 10-foot-tall canvases — for an exhibition taking place in June. Receiving the grant will have lasting effects as well; including it on their resume, they said, would help them move forward in earning more grants.
It also means that Eriksson has the opportunity to give back to their community. They donate their time to teach workshops at The Fishbowl, a gallery and event space for BIPOC and queer artists. Eriksson said a next step would be to research scholarships and grants that can support BIPOC artists at The Fishbowl and that would fund a second space to host art education workshops. They want to continue the cycle of giving, since they’ve received that kind of support from other community members and artists.
“I don’t think people realize how big it is just to have someone offer you a place to paint for the afternoon. That’s a huge deal, especially in an expensive city like ours,” Eriksson said. “Unfortunately the art world is exclusionary and elitist at times. Not everyone can afford art school. I had so many people helping with things that seemed really small, like [filling] out a check, [but] as a teenager that was so helpful. Offering stuff like education and resources; that is really my goal.”
Find Seattle Stories at seattlestories.org. Learn more about AshaAung Helmstetter at artsyasha.com. Learn more about Rowan Eriksson at rowaneriksson.com.
Marian Mohamed is the associate editor of Real Change. She oversees our weekly features. Contact her at [email protected].
Read more of the March 6–12, 2024 issue.