Pressed for time and advice

Artists and media and the busted world they share.

A couple times recently I’ve been invited to speak at conferences or workshops, specifically about how artists and musicians should handle press relations. One is coming up March 8 at Dane Arts’ Business Of Art conference at Arts + Literature Laboratory, where I’ll be on a panel with The Cap Times‘ Lindsay Christians, City Cast Madison‘s Bianca Martin, Isthmus‘ Judy Davidoff, and Destination Madison’s Sarah Warner, moderated by Dane Arts commission member Jennifer Garrett. The other is still in the works. 

On the rare occasions that people ask me to speak at these kinds of things, I also find myself anxious to manage expectations. Is the talk supposed to give people advice about marketing that will ultimately get them results to advance their careers? Because I honestly have no idea how to do that. I’m a bit skeptical of anyone who purports to have more than, say, a couple of ideas and some very general best practices. Even if artists come away with amazing advice about working with the press, they’ll be applying that advice in a—let’s be realistic here—terribly depleted media landscape.

Still, these conversations provide great opportunities to talk about the parallels between being a journalist and being an artist. Different as these walks of life are, people in both worlds inhabit absolutely broken, inadequate infrastructures. Both know a lot about being lowballed, undervalued, taken for granted, expected to endure because “something something passion,” even when we don’t have anywhere near the resources we really need to do the work (which is always). Instead of merely talking about what we can do for each other in our day-to-day efforts, we should talk about the conditions we face and build some solidarity in an effort to change those conditions.

I find myself both having and avoiding a lot of arguments about the emphasis on “professional development” in the world of the arts. A conference like Business Of Art faces the challenge of helping people navigate systemic conditions by making better individual choices. I have no doubt that there will be plenty of useful information on offer. At the end of the conference, people will still emerge into a state that abjectly sucks at funding the arts.

One of the other sessions at this year’s conference is “Navigating Public Benefits and Self-Employment.” It’s about how to apply for things like FoodShare, housing assistance, Medicaid, and so forth if you’re self-employed. At first glance, this seems a bit grim; but it makes perfect sense upon further thought. There should be no stigma around applying for public benefits—in fact, I think governments at the federal, state, and local levels should be providing an order of magnitude more public support for artists and everyone else. (Have I mentioned that we, in Wisconsin, and even in Madison, particularly suck at that? We do!) It just speaks volumes that food-stamp eligibility is a genuinely relevant and useful topic of conversation at a conference about succeeding, or at least surviving, as an artist.

Anyways, my expectation-managing actually led to a really rewarding conversation last week with Dane Arts Director Mark Fraire. The description for the panel on the conference website initially talked about how to “maximize your opportunities with the press.” This concerned me, because I’m terrified of anything that reduces the press to a marketing channel or reduces artists to their “personal brands.” Sure, some of that is precious stuff about journalism and wanting arts coverage to be something richer than a promotional opportunity. And there is only so much opportunity to maximize anyway. (Some of this column literally stems from emails I was writing to Fraire, who was receptive and thoughtful about the whole thing. He ended up revising the description a bit.) 

Even if someone both masters the art of PR and makes compelling work that genuinely deserves thoughtful attention (a rare combination but not unheard of), what can they really expect? Both local media and arts media are getting bulldozed for scrap in a process of never-ending attrition. That any local arts journalism is still happening at all in 2024 is something of a miracle, just as it’s a miracle that people keep making art against the odds. If you’re on the arts beat for a relatively larger outlet, like Lindsay Christians at The Cap Times, chances are you’re the only person on staff who focuses entirely on that. If you’re running a tiny outlet like we are at Tone Madison, you triage the editorial work with the work of keeping the lights on. Under either scenario, it’s a fight to do even a tenth of the work you’d like to do.

Think of the media as six weasels in a burning trenchcoat (they can be wearing a little hat with a “press” card in the band, why not). In a corporate media setting, the executives and shareholders who control the trenchcoat are pouring more gasoline on it and thinking about how soon they can lay off at least four of the weasels. In a smaller independent media setting, the weasels are also trying to sew the trenchcoat as they maintain their uncanny tottering humanoid formation, patting the flames down to a low smolder and accepting that there are probably no convenient sources of water awaiting down the road. 

I say this not to vent, but to demystify things. During our back-and-forth, Fraire pointed out how many artists find local media to be puzzling or intimidating. Local media outlets, including Tone Madison, could do more to make ourselves reachable and transparent. We do actively want to hear from people, even if there’s no way we’re going to have the bandwidth for all or even most of the inquiries that come in. And I do have at least a little advice, should I ever manage to organize my thoughts about it.