The crucial luxury of the artist’s residency
PEach year dozens of artists stay and work somewhere temporarily by participating in residencies. But why are they offered in the first place, and why do artists find them useful? André Chumko reports.
laywright and poet Nathan Joe was on the brink of quitting writing when a string of residencies helped him figure out where he needed to go, creatively speaking.
Joe has done about six residencies, including the Grimshaw Sargeson Fellowship in Auckland and the Ursula Bethell Residency in Christchurch, ranging from weeks to months-long periods. While not all residencies are physically based somewhere different, Joe says for those that are, it’s gratifying to have the luxury of being given a place to reside, and space to let the creative juices flow.
‘‘Most artists are used to practising their work for free. Writers write things off their own back, they squeeze hours out of their own time and before or after work. You’re paying yourself to write. The residency corrects that a bit – the pendulum swings back the way of the artist,’’ Joe says. ‘‘It doesn’t last, but it tries to restore the equilibrium of how we treat artistic practice. You’re paid to do it properly.’’
Most Kiwi artists work day jobs to pay their bills. A Creative NZ and NZ On Air survey in 2019 found the median income for creatives in Aotearoa was $35,800 – lower than the living wage. As such, residencies are often one of the few sustainable opportunities artists get in their working lives to dedicate time to their craft, and be paid for it, too.
‘‘When I was in my early 20s, I got away with running on fumes,’’ Joe says. ‘‘You get to a certain age ... [and] the residency is more important than ever – you can take things a bit slower, there’s a morale boost element in feeling like you’re worth what you’re getting paid for.’’
So is there a hard output expectation attached to residencies? Not really. Most stipulate that artists produce or work on a specified project, but in Joe’s experience he’s always had creative freedom and flexibility. After all, it’s not realistic to put start and finish times on art. Sometimes, Joe has started a residency outlining what he planned to do, but produced something else entirely. And sometimes, the residency can simply be for inspiration or to break routine.
Joe says it’s sometimes hard to veto the thought to cram as much in to a residency as possible. But the beauty of the residency is there is no right or wrong way to spend the time. If an artist wanted to read for a month, they could, he says. ‘‘Who has time to read these days?’’
Residencies can be elusive. Some artists may be unable to embark on one altogether because they have family or work commitments. But there is a certain richness in long residencies that give the artist time to embed themselves deeply in their art, Joe says.
A range of organisations offer them. In Wellington, a number of artist stays are supported by the Wellington City Council, with spokesperson Katie Taylor-Duke saying the council gets behind them because they provide opportunities for artists to immerse themselves in new contexts, markets, communities and cultures.
‘‘The experience enables artists to articulate their practice within a new region or a global context and build knowledge, networks and partnerships that support future local or international arts activity. Residencies are also important periods for artistic development and reflection, which may result in new and vibrant bodies of work,’’ Taylor-Duke says.
Recently Toi Pōneke welcomed Wellington writer and disability activist Robyn Hunt as this year’s d/Deaf and/or disabled artist residency. Hunt is spending her time working on a collection of personal essays, and a publishing proposal for the collection. She says the residency gives her a reason not to get sidetracked by other activities or demands on her time.
Hunt says it’s been exciting and encouraging embarking on her first residency. ‘‘Writing is a solitary job so a residency gives space and time which enables a focus ... Deaf and disabled artists in particular rarely see opportunities like this, especially opportunities that are for us only,’’ she says.
And the Goethe-Institut Neuseeland has recently welcomed Munich’s Clara Ehrenwerth at Wellington’s historic Bolton Street cottage for two months. Ehrenwerth mostly works in the interactive theatre space and plans to spend her time on smaller projects, but says they’re not shaped yet. She plans to meet Wellington artists while in Aotearoa and exchange ideas.
But what’s the incentive for an organisation to offer a residency? For the McCahon House Trust, which offers three residencies a year to mid-career Kiwi artists, it’s as much about creating a new cultural legacy as it is celebrating the legacy of those before. For its residency artists get to stay all-expenses-paid in a house and studio adjacent to where painter Colin McCahon lived in the 1950s in Titirangi.
A peer selection panel reviews residency applicants, and despite applications having to include an indication of what the artists plan to work on, no direction is given to artists during their stay, says Vivienne Stone, director of the trust.
Like the McCahon House residency, the Michael King Writers Centre house and residency at Devonport’s Signalman’s House was established in 2004 to honour the legacy of King, and realise his dream of providing a residential retreat for Kiwi writers. The aim is to allow them time, a stipend and a tranquil
space to work on a literary project, says Jan McEwen, executive director of the centre. To date about 140 writers have been through the centre’s residencies, which are deliberately short after feedback revealed that artists’ commitments prevented a diverse range of people from applying.
Some residencies, like the Sarjeant’s Tylee Cottage residency in Whanganui, established in 1986, seek to get artists to create new works that will ultimately result in a solo exhibition at the Sarjeant Gallery, says Sarjeant curator and public programmes manager Greg Donson. But sometimes that doesn’t eventuate until months or years after the residency ends.
‘‘The idea of the residency being a kind of incubator is really important to us and the artists,’’ Donson says.
‘‘It gives them a chance to just focus on their work and their everyday lives and often their day jobs can kind of be put on pause for a bit. ... Many artists who have done the residency have also made Whanganui their permanent home and their presence in Whanganui enriches the artistic community.’’
Another benefit of the residency was allowing locals to meet or encounter artists in different contexts – say on a Whanganui beach or cafe, which opens up connections to the art world for those who might not feel comfortable or want to visit a traditional gallery or artistic space.
Then some organisations like the Arts Foundation offer springboard programmes, which, while not traditional residencies, do afford emerging and mid-grade artists the opportunity to be mentored by more established artists. Waikato-based theatre practitioner and writer Cian Parker was mentored by Briar Grace-Smith after being selected for last year’s programme, and while the mentorship only officially lasted a year, the pair are still in contact today.
Parker says the arrangement worked well for her as she didn’t have to leave her own whānau for an extended period, which she would have to do with a residency, but she was still able to hone her skills – particularly writing for the screen, not stage. The best part of any residency, Joe says, is that they offer artists the space to be ponderous, to get lost and stumble across things and ideas, and to ask themselves the bigger questions – the ‘why’.