Text By Jessica Ramos
Graphic By Annika Izora
It’s been an entire year since the start of the pandemic, where our fundamental systems have been viewed again with new eyes. While it’s true that we’ve been living in a period of flawed fundamental systems, many people have began to take notice with events that transpired during the pandemic: the murder of George Floyd, lack of government aid, and the need for essential workers to show up during the peak of the pandemic, my dad included, who worked a non-essential sales job during an exceptionally traumatic and dangerous period of our generation. Society is flawed from our legal system to our job market to our politics. This is especially for Black and Brown people who are dying at faster rates during the pandemic than white, wealthy people.
Rodney Diverlus, the founder of the Canada BLM chapter, wrote in a 2020 article for CBC, “This year is an opportunity to break out of this cycle we know too well...Let us respond with a broad proliferation of Black arts practices, institutions, and practitioners.” He claims that instead of trying to fit into broken institutions that don’t serve us, why not create our own? Naive as it may be, being a Latina writer who moved abroad and created a freelance career from scratch, I’ve been able to find hope in art and in artists, and in my ability to create a media career on my own.
In 2020, Black and Brown artists were scared, worrying over how they were going to survive. It was tough enough already as we operated within institutions tied to white supremacy and that are set up to see us fail. But as Diverlus writes, and as I’ve seen discussed in digital spaces on socials like Instagram and Twitter, what if there’s a different route for BIPOC creatives to take? One that sustains us, cares for us, and gives us back power?
Design Courtesy of Annika Izora
I didn’t grow up in the art world. As a child of an immigrant in a single-income household, surviving was what was important. So the first time I was introduced to the concept of creative ecosystems was through a graphic designer, Annika Izora. Her graphics, reminiscent of 90s nostalgic color gradients, stopped me from the scroll.
Her stance on interdependent creative worlds inspired me. Her collected database on ‘Creative Ecosystems & Funds That Support Black People’ (which she published during the pandemic) showed me resources I didn't know existed. She also created a sheet where artists can exchange skills based on their needs and what they can offer, introducing the concept of how a creative ecosystem could work in the digital spaces.
From her work, I was introduced to the community space she helped design and built by Naj Austin. Ethel’s Club is a club for Black and Brown people to share ideas on wellness, art, and business and feel safe and seen, though I haven’t been able to afford the price point at this time. I also found Brwn Art Ink is a “nomadic community incubator to support the arts ecosystem for artists, cultural practitioners, and communities of color.” And these are just a few of the digital spaces that are highlighting the importance of BIPOC ecosystems, independent of white supremacy.
A BIPOC ecosystem could be a complex network of interconnected systems that we find within our cities or digitally. From cultural systems to social good, they could provide connection and the sharing of ideas. In a study by the European Commission on what creative ecosystems are, they say “...cultural and creative ecosystems are the nurturing ground for innovation.” For BIPOC artists, these types of contained ecosystems could be a fundamental part of our practices.
As a Latina freelancer living abroad with no peers, community and mentorship are two things that I crave. So I’d say, consider joining an arts ecosystem through a digital space or by joining a meetup in your area. If you don’t have one, start one. Collectives, like Tyler the Creator’s Odd Future and Jelani Aryeh’s Raised by the Internet have helped push these Black and Brown creatives towards success and production of ideas.
Creative ecosystems, specifically for Black and Brown people, overcome some of the biggest hurdles that they’re often faced with, like funding and community. By funding Black and Brown artists, we allow them to thrive instead of solely survive. By creating safe spaces with each other in our communities, we give back to the people in those communities who stand to make a difference. We broaden our opportunities by offering communities. And most importantly, we separate ourselves from a system that wants to see us fail.
Jessica is a Salvadoran freelance writer with interests in cities, art, social justice, and the intersections between. Originally from LA county, Jessica graduated from Cal Poly Pomona with a BA in English Education and took that degree to Madrid, Spain where she now teaches English to high schoolers when she's not busy reading and writing.
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