More than 30 years ago, Christine Lewis left her home in Trinidad and Tobago for New York City at the invitation of her sisters. She came to the city as an artist, dancer, writer, musician, and literacy teacher, but those jobs were not available to recent immigrants like her.
So, to support herself and her daughter, she took a job as a nanny. And she’s nannied ever since.
“I brought all of [these artistic skills] to the work that I was doing,” she explains. “How big is that to give to somebody’s children when you work with them? I wasn’t just nannying the kid.”
Despite this, Lewis made poverty wages during her first years in the US.
That’s why Lewis calls the Artist Employment Program “a communal offering.” Launched by Creatives Rebuild New York (CRNY) in 2022, the Artist Employment Program worked with more than 100 community-based organizations to create jobs for 300 artists across New York state. For two years, each artist received a $65,000 yearly salary, health care, and other benefits. In exchange, the artists helped organizations further their missions, from cultivating leadership skills among Black and Latinx youth through dance and theater to creating murals to bring awareness to the issue of domestic violence and using traditional foodways, crafts, and oral traditions to empower and uplift Indigenous women.
The program was part of CRNY’s larger mission to support the state’s social and economic recovery in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic. It had two goals: help artists access stable employment and use art to drive impact in communities across the state.
Rebuilding communities through the arts
Each year, the arts and culture sector contributes over $151 billion to the New York state economy—more than 7 percent of its gross domestic product. But when the pandemic hit, the sector was upended.
In a survey of over 13,000 artists in the state, more than half (57 percent) reported that the pandemic had caused them to lose freelance, gig, or contract work between 2020 and 2022. About 68 percent of arts and cultural organizations reported that they expected the coronavirus to have a severe impact on their finances in a 2021 survey, and 11 percent were not confident their organization would survive the pandemic.
New York City was especially hard hit: by December 2020, the number of people employed by the arts, entertainment, and recreation sector had fallen 66 percent compared with 2019.
Storytelling, arts, and cultural activities have always been essential to Lewis’s organizing work with Domestic Workers United. Led by Caribbean, African, and Latinx domestic workers, the organization aims to end the exploitation of domestic workers and empower their community. For years, Lewis and Domestic Workers United have connected their members with opportunities to participate in public theater and writing workshops in service of that mission.
However, “we’ve never been given a grant to just do art,” says Lewis.
Using Artist Employment Program funding, “we put together a zine, which is Domestic Workers United, unfiltered,” Lewis explains. “[Women] who work in the shadows, who are underpaid, overworked, who can’t really say what’s on their mind to their employers…were able to use art to express that.” And the funding allowed them to pay workers for their contribution to the zine, whether it was a story, poem, photo, or recipe.
Ultimately, Lewis says the program helped Domestic Workers United strengthen their community. “Women who wouldn’t necessarily come to the meeting[s] came into the room,” she explains. Through art, food, music, and regular meetings in a local community garden, Lewis says “we were able to assist the movement” by fostering a space where the community could come together.
The program also gave Lewis the financial security to expand on the work she’s done in her community for more than two decades. Though she continued to nanny throughout the two-year program, Lewis says it was her choice. The income she made through the program went into savings for her to use in the future, whether to buy a house or to support a family member in need.
Created in the spring of 2021, CRNY’s goal was to build on other national and local relief efforts by helping artists achieve financial stability in wake of the pandemic. When designing the Artist Employment Program, CRNY drew inspiration from two federal programs created during earlier economic crises: the Works Progress Administration’s Federal Art Project of the 1930s and the Comprehensive Employment and Training Act of 1973.
“The name of the organization is kind of cheesy—Creatives Rebuild New York—but I feel like we really saw that happen in a lot of the communities that we funded,” says Bella Desai, director of strategic initiatives for the Artist Employment Program at CRNY.
Recent Urban research confirms Desai’s observation. In a survey of 34 partner organizations, the majority of respondents said the program strengthened their ties to the community and expanded their reach. More than 80 percent said they were seeking or planning to seek funding to continue working with artists.
“It has been communal from the start,” says writer Víctor María Chamán, describing his collaboration with the Workers’ Center of Central New York. Neither Chamán nor the Syracuse-based organization decided on the scope of project. Instead, a committee of workers decided to use the Artist Employment Program funding to collect stories from Latino immigrants across the region.
Chamán first became familiar with these stories while serving as a volunteer interpreter for the Workers’ Center. Even as a Latino immigrant himself, Chamán, who was born and raised in Torreón, Mexico, says many of the stories he heard as a volunteer were new to him. And he felt others should hear them too.
The stories in the collection were unprompted, Chamán explains. Many began as audio recordings, either sent to or recorded by Chamán. Some storytellers shared their entire life story; others focused on love, family, or business. Though most stories were contributed in Spanish, some were submitted in Indigenous languages and English and then translated into Spanish. Crucially, each storyteller owns the copyright for their submission.
“So much of the project has been one experiment of trust after another,” says Chamán. “What I’ve done is [to] simply…take my resources and skills and put them at the service of the community.”
Though the Artist Employment Program has ended, Chamán says he’s not worried about his future financial stability given the work he’s accomplished. “So much of my life has been convincing people around me that the time I was spending writing and reading was important,” he explains. “The [Artist Employment Program] changed my life,” he says, “because it allowed me to live like a professional, [with] a professional salary,” even as he continued to develop his craft.
Ultimately, the Artist Employment Program funded 98 collaborations, putting $49.9 million toward artist salaries and benefits (PDF), while also providing $11.7 million in funding to the partner organizations. Recipients from all ten regions of New York State were chosen, and six of the nine Indigenous nations recognized by the state were represented.
Advancing inclusion through targeted outreach
Ensuring Artist Employment Program funds were equitably distributed to artists, organizations, and communities across the state required an intentional outreach strategy. To that end, CRNY formed an Outreach Corps of artist-organizers to help connect Indigenous, disabled, and Deaf communities with information about the program.
“There was a big focus in the Outreach Corps around getting Indigenous representation,” explains Hayden Haynes, who served in the Corps.
Haynes, a member of the Seneca Nation (Deer Clan) and director of the Onöhsagwë:de' Cultural Center, says Indigenous communities face barriers rooted in settler colonialism in accessing opportunities like the Artist Employment Program, such as lack of internet access. Past and ongoing experiences of mistreatment have also led many Indigenous communities to distrust outside entities. As a member of the Corps, Hayden could address these concerns by acting as a trusted source of information about the program for his community.
As a result, 10 artists joined forces with the Seneca Nation to create an art collective, Good Medicine Creatives. Artists offered classes on moccasin making and bead work, held storytelling events, and organized a smoke dance on Halloween for families.
Having 10 artists and cultural practitioners with different skills ready to serve the community led to “an amazing amount of…knowledge shared, relationship building, [and] community building,” says Haynes. “A cultural revitalization in some of these practices really has taken root as a result.”
Creating financial stability for artists
As part of its commitment to an equitable recovery, CRNY made sure small community-based organizations that did not have the internal infrastructure to directly employ artists could participate in the Artist Employment Program.
A little over half of the artists participating in the program were paid and received benefits through Tribeworks, a worker-owned and artist-run cooperative. This partnership gave artists access to insurance while reducing cost and administrative burdens for smaller organizations. Still, the partnership presented some challenges for artists. In our focus groups, some artists reported the health benefits Tribeworks offered were costly and did not meet their needs.
Filmmaker and photographer Stacy Marie Lawrence’s approach to both art and advocacy is simple: “begin with access and end with access.” For Lawrence, who is profoundly Deaf and spoke to us through an American Sign Language interpreter, this commitment is personal.
As a teenager, Lawrence watched in horror as her father appeared on national news covered in blood. Her mother and father had been on vacation in San Juan, Puerto Rico, when their hotel caught fire. But in the late 1980s, broadcasters were not required to provide close captioning. Alone at their home in Connecticut, Lawrence was left to read her father’s lips as he told first responders that her mom was still inside.
Cultivating communication access was essential to Lawrence’s collaboration with Deaf Refugee Advocacy, Inc. Located in Rochester, New York, the organization provides case management and educational services to Deaf refugees, asylum-seekers, and immigrants. As part of the Artist Employment Program, Lawrence offered a free class, "Creating Art through the Five Senses,” to their community.
“So many Deaf refugees were coming from so many different countries, entering one space,” she explains, “and they had different levels of language proficiency. That’s a challenge.” But Lawrence was committed to ensuring each project “was equally accessible to all participants.”
For the class, she designed a photography challenge in which community members visited public art throughout the city and captured their perspective on provided cameras. “I learned very quickly that the refugees wanted to explore Rochester, to claim their space,” Lawrence explains. She intentionally chose free destinations within walking distance, and—mindful of how assignments could affect participants emotionally—the organization ensured a caseworker was present during class.
Before the program, Lawrence’s family had lived on one income. She put off updating her video equipment while she cared for her disabled father and she and her husband saved for their children to go to college. But when her equipment started to break down during the program, Lawrence upgraded her editing station through a financing solution offered by Tribeworks. “I had to change my mentality,” explains Lawrence, “to say, ‘Wait a minute, I earned this!’”
Overall, most artists participating in the program valued the stable salary and benefits that it provided. But, for some artists, a large increase in income created barriers to receiving public benefits. In our survey of 98 artists, 13 percent reported no longer qualifying for a social insurance program such as Medicaid while participating in the program. Further, 10 artists said they incurred unanticipated debt because of participating in the program.
We also found that artists’ sense of financial security waned at the end of the program. In our survey, over 40 percent of artists said they felt financially insecure or extremely financially insecure during the second to last month of the program. Some said that a more intentional off-boarding process could’ve made the transition less abrupt. Others suggested that a gradual reduction of benefits or hours could have helped them prepare to re-enter the gig economy.
For McKenzie Jones, director at Tribeworks, helping artists achieve financial stability and access health benefits is critical to the vitality of the arts and culture sector. “There can only be a lot of good art available,” she explains, “if we have a lot of good, healthy artists available to make it. And people can't become good, healthy artists, if their basic needs are not met.”
Shifting the power dynamics in partnerships between artists and community organizations
From the start, the Artist Employment Program was designed so both artists and organizations had a say in the goals of their collaboration. Typically, organizations seek grant funding to work with artists. However, to apply for the Artist Employment Program, artists and organizations had to submit a joint application.
“The fact that [organizations] couldn’t get [their] application in without the artist being a part of it, and building it with [them], that’s a big deal,” explains Christopher Mulé, codirector of strategic initiatives for the Artist Employment Program.
As a musician who has worked for grantmaking organizations, Mulé understands that artists are not always in the room when organizations apply for grants. But for the Artist Employment Program, organizations had to work with artists to outline the scope and goals of their partnership.
Though most artists and organizations had already partnered in some way before the Artist Employment Program, other collaborations were new. For visual artist Sphynxx, this was their first experience collaborating with The LOFT: LGBTQ+ Community Center in White Plains, New York.
Twice a month, Sphynxx, who identifies as two-spirit and uses any pronouns, hosted in-person art activities for The LOFT’s intergenerational community. The workshops provided a safe space for the community to discuss the issues they face. “It’s important to have somewhere that’s not a bar,” explains Sphynxx, “[where] we can gather and talk about our issues and not feel alone.”
Sphynxx says, “When you’re doing art, you’re not thinking about, ‘Oh, someone’s judging me,’ or ‘I can’t really say this.’” Seeing community members lean on one another during these sessions helped Sphynxx understand their own impact as an artist and arts teacher. The program also gave Sphynxx the confidence to curate their first art show at a local gallery
Participating in the Artist Employment Program has been “a stepping stone to more financial freedom,” says Sphynxx. “I [had] time to go out and figure out what makes me happy.” With the funds they saved during the program, Sphynxx purchased a minibus. Their hope is to turn the bus into a mobile creative space that could host performances, pop-up shops, and meet-ups for like-minded creatives.
Under these mutual agreements, artists were promised dedicated time to develop their artistic or cultural practice. Putting these agreements into practice was not always easy, though. In our research, more than 20 percent of organizations reported it was challenging to agree on working arrangements or hours with artists.
More onboarding guidance from CRNY could have helped address some of the challenges, says Sphynxx, a visual artist who collaborated with The LOFT: LGBTQ+ Community Center and uses any pronouns.
“In the beginning, there was a lot of miscommunication,” Sphynxx explains, “because people had different interpretations of what [the collaboration] was supposed to be.” Though some artists noted they spent less time on their artistic practice during the program, Sphynxx says miscommunication and staff turnover at the nonprofit led them to feel underutilized at times. Preparing organizations to work with artists who are more accustomed to doing gig work could help also alleviate potential pain points, they say.
Despite these challenges, the Artist Employment Program fundamentally changed the way many organizations thought about their relationships with artists as collaborators. Though two-thirds of organizations said they had collaborated with artists in some capacity before the program, our research found the program required organizations to reflect on how they could support artists’ practice and their overall well-being.
To further expand access to artist employment programs and the resources they offer, artist Stacy Marie Lawrence says program organizers could have a dedicated accessibility coordinator on staff. As Lawrence, who uses American Sign Language, explains, “Access is not just for Deaf people,” says Lawrence, “Access is for everyone.”
As communities continue to deal with the social and economic fallout from the COVID-19 pandemic, the Artist Employment Program offers a model for how supporting artists as workers can help communities work toward cohesion and inclusion. It also raises larger questions of how to better support nontraditional and gig workers in an economy where traditional, full-time workers have greater access to benefits and stability. How might guaranteed employment programs improve the well-being of nontraditional workers and their communities?
Note: In this post, we use the terms to “Latinx” or “Latino” to refer to people of Spanish and/or Latin American origin in the US. We use these terms to remain consistent with the preferred language organizations or interviewees use to describe their communities.
Project Credits
This feature was funded by Creatives Rebuild New York, a project of Tides Center, as part of Urban Institute's Comparative Assessment of Artist Employment Models grant. We are grateful to them and to all our funders, who make it possible for Urban to advance its mission. The views expressed are those of the authors and should not be attributed to the Urban Institute, its trustees, or its funders. Funders do not determine research findings or the insights and recommendations of our experts. More information on our funding principles is available here. Read our terms of service here.
RESEARCH Mark Treskon, Ofronama Biu, Madeleine Sirois, Marokey Sawo, Christina Prinvil, and Camilla Kraft
DEVELOPMENT Josh Miller and Jerry Ta
EDITING Alex Dallman
DESIGN Brittney Spinner
PHOTOGRAPHY Amelia Hamilton, Amy Toensing, and Sean Sirota
WRITING Dana Ferrante
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