on turning forty.
I keep forgetting I’m turning 40 on August 3rd. If you want an indication of how stressed I am. I haven’t even had a moment to claw at my face and whisper with fright, “My youth…where have you gone!”
But honestly, that sounds about right. It feels like forty years. And they were nearly all tormented years, but I feel like an athlete looking back on it. That was hard. And I’m so glad I put myself through it.
Because I feel like I’ve been training my whole life to be here for the arts in this moment in history. I’ve seen since the beginning of my professional career how the institutional theatre system works against its own aims. Over time it became apparent that all of our systems have been corrupting and self-cannibalizing the same way. Today, we find ourselves standing in the ruins, whether we like it or not. There are some with integrity still standing, but most of the giants have already been claimed by fascists.
But it struck me, early, that we must find other ways to create and fund arts that provide a cultural touchstones for communities while letting artists be independently self sustaining. I explored every underground space I could get my mitts on with classical artististic sensibilities always asking myself why one thing should make money, while another thing doesn’t. There were a lot of us in the theatre working on this fifteen years ago.
But then the rent spiraled.
Funding was cut.
Recession
Shootings
Outrage
Dating Apps
Endless Scroll
COVID
Coup
End of the world
End of the world
End of the world
And theatre is truly dying across America. All live performance is hanging on by a thread.
And through it all, I have been a woman, alone, relying on the kindness of strangers to see me through while I try to figure out the problem of how to fund the arts. Because as far as I can see, there must be others like me, but they are also out there, alone.
Because those of us who hear the call (and like, fucking yes, it’s a calling. Sorry. I wish it weren’t so embarrassingly so, but it fucking calls me) KNOW that art is crucial to a human civilization. Art kills crime. It allows us to come together rather than tear each other apart like the petty, jealous, apex predators we are. It’s fucking miraculous. And it’s important that it be made with integrity and care. It’s important that it reflect the world honestly–however incomplete the reflection is, necessarily. It’s together that we see the world for what it is–when we come together with integrity and honesty. Honesty is the only virtue art must have. It can be mean, or disgusting, or offensive. But it must present honestly. It cannot seek to control.
How the fuck do you do that in the internet age? The age of the addictive mindfuck propaganda machine, that turns all art it touches into torture porn? Into propaganda? Into BDSM? Into mind control?
To answer these questions, I’ve been a street performer, a figure model, a phone dominatrix, a content creator a cabaret performer a classical actor, a rock star and opinion writer, a miserable minimum wage earner. I’ve been Coast to coast and gone to every place high and low as a woman alone with a banjo and the ability to tell stories. And I haven’t found a “system that works”–what I’ve found is some truths I can rely on while I examine the systems around me.
Art kills crime.
The show must go on.
The readiness is all.
Get the money up front.
Use the side door.
Keep it cute.
Be so good they can’t ignore you.
Pay the man
Organizations protect organizations. Individuals protect ideals.
The land is the only thing that matters.
All anyone needs to make art is a little bit of money and a room of one’s own.
Snobbery is the enemy of meritocracy.
Love is all you need.
Beware all middle men.
And many more I can’t remember. But enough that I feel confident I can give it as good a go as anyone.
“A little bit of money and a room of one’s own” has always been the sticking point for me. And it’s pretty much what did all of us theatre artists in–the rising rents.
I’ve spent forty years learning how to tell stories and perform in hostile environments and still eat. My hope in doing this was to find a way to make art that is bullet proof, so artists are never again led down paths that destroy their art, eats their time, and keeps them too poor to practice.
And now that I have the land I need to make a start, to build a room of my own, I know what comes next is to help other artists build, too.
In the next forty, I see us building environmentally sustainable villages on land that we own. And building a workable economy that values artistic and caring professions. I see us building together, as individuals with an eye on helping, not controlling. It will be possible because we didn’t ask for permission. We seized the responsibility ourselves.
But this regime, and the techno-fascists that fund it, have plans for the next forty years, too. Convict Beaver Cleaver just released a memo calling for starving artists such as myself to be put into camps.
That is not an exaggeration. It is part of Project Esther we do not start making moves to house the homeless and to support people with unique vision (and let’s be honest: a huge propaganda movement has been made to convince people that artists or anyone who can see things you don’t–smart people–are insane), they will be destroyed.
I will be destroyed.
So how do we make sure this doesn’t happen?
By profit sharing with small productions, developed under artist control.
By turning Donors into Investors in the arts.
The readiness is all. And SmutMag.Art has thought of everything. We long to be a jumping off point for artists in all mediums, from all backgrounds–a way to get artists and communities the stability they need to consistently create great art without fear.
Because art kills crime. And a society where only crime pays is a society that is crumbling.
The criminals in power have campaigned hard and long to make you believe that artists are loafers, mooches, cons–at best impractical, at worst, enemies of God.
But America was built by artists and defined by poets, when it stood for liberty and justice for all. The arts kill crime and create democracy.
Artists need support. And the world needs its poets. And we will never get through what’s to come without relief from the chaos and confusion.
A story told well takes what is broken, examines it close up and faraway, and puts it in context to make it whole. And when society is filled with garbage, we are the recyclers who turn it into meaning, so your experiences are useful, and not just killing you. Art is pain relief. That is why art kills crime.
I am turning forty, and I’m sure of my mission, sure why it’s important, sure how to make my start, and sure where I’ll start building it.
My biggest birthday wish is that you’ll come with me.
I am pushing hard to raise enough money by my birthday, August 3rd, to have my mother not terrified about this move. Walls and a toilet are top of the list.
That means:
It’s my birthday+ House-warming+”Process” opening celebration week!
This is the most crucial fundraiser of my life–dono in fits and starts, I know.
But I’ve been doing a LOT of work to ensure I am sure of what SmutMag has to offer in return for your generosity.
I hope you will stack up on Bones today–we NEED to get out of this apartment. We are squatting and it’s scary.
The boat has disappeared for lack of someone able to tow it. Drat! But I’ve found a beautiful shed (wink) builder, at a very reasonable price that will suit our needs just fine, and within budget when we make this fundraiswer.
And the sooner we hit our goal, the more attention can be paid to our productions.
Not a dollar to your name?
You get 25% of every bone you sell. Promoting “Process” is a great way to start. Contact us to get started.
Don’t have the gift of salesmanship?
Barter for bones! I need tools! I need coffee! I need all kinds of things! In fact, I’m making a housewarming/birthday registry. You can buy directly from it, or send me your used and beautiful stuff.
Your support means everything. We all hate the way the current arts system works, and together, we can change it, and make the world more stable, less needy, and more democratic.
I can’t wait for you to see “Process,” and to see what comes next when this movement takes off.
I’m not scared of 40. I’m not scared of much these days. Not because the world isn’t a terrifying, frightening place–we can plainly see that it is.
We can plainly see that it is.
You can do anything, and deal with any problem, when you can see things plainly.
That’s why I’m not afraid.
That’s what art does for you.
That’s what you’ve done for me,
when you kept this experiment going.
One more big hard push.
It’s my birthday.
For my birthday, I just want one little thing: To kill crime with art.
Come celebrate with me.
SmutMag 
Leave a comment