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 the small city of Akron, Ohio, a group of artists organize as VIBE Collective. We are “a network of Northeast Ohio artists in the intersection of art, culture, and education, who seek to create spaces for community transformation and healing.” Throughout the organizing of our network, a breadth of knowledge arose from us as ones who have worked alongside institutions in partnership. We’ve often been on the receiving end of challenging experiences with businesses and civic and cultural institutions in all forms and sizes, and from those experiences have been able to curate a list of ways to partner with community artists. Our hope is that you will pass this list along to your organizations, colleagues, and staff. Together, we can build a brighter future through the arts.

As an arts lawyer, I often advise on a variety of copyright issues. Many artists realize copyright law is crucial to protecting the value of their work, but beyond that, the details of how exactly to use copyright gets lost in the shuffle. I’m hopeful this post will clear up some common areas of confusion! Copyright is an intellectual property right, or an intangible, nonphysical right. Put another way, copyright is separate and distinct from the personal property right to a physical work of art. Fortunately, copyright protection is easy to obtain: As soon as you create a work of art, that work is automatically protected by copyright! The key here is that, for your work to be protected by copyright, it must be “fixed in a tangible medium of expression.” In other words, your work must be committed to some tangible, perceivable, reproducible form. This “fixation” is required because copyright protects the expression of an idea, not simply the idea itself.

I believe my artistic practice parallels legislative actions. Moving bills from drafting to committee deliberations onto floor votes in both the House and Senate also is an iterative collaborative process informed by myriad voices: stakeholders, advocates, community members, and other legislators, in addition to the governor. Bills constantly evolve and change. Compromise may be the best that can be achieved, given conflicting input, needs, and resources. In politics, as in art, vexing problems are best tackled from multiple perspectives with stakeholders involved. Resiliency and adaptability are also essential for best outcomes in life, art, and politics.

“How do I know my value?” That was a question posed by an artist in a recent workshop around Artists Statements, and if you stop for a moment, the question is profound. On one hand, there is a practical answer, one that we at Springboard for the Arts have been seeking to help artists answer for years. In our Work of Art: Business Skills for Artists curriculum, there is a whole section on pricing your work. You, as the artist, have to know what your target income is from your creative work, what the costs of your materials and labor are, what your overhead costs are. It takes research, and yes, you’ll have to do some math. But that question of value is even more than knowing how to price your work and where it might fit in to your market and economy. The question of value is inherently one about belonging and identity, and about being seen for the work you do.