By Ron Ragin

Before becoming the director of the Scaffolding for Practicing Artists (SPA) program, I was a participant. My SPA experience helped me grow through my biggest and most challenging artistic endeavor, and it provided me with lasting lessons that continue to inform my work. Here’s the story.

In 2015, Rebecca Mwase asked me to co-direct/produce her MAP-funded project, Vessels, a seven-woman harmonic meditation on the role of singing as a survival tool during the Middle Passage. It was a huge undertaking for us — spiritually, creatively, materially, and logistically. Vessels was our first time collaborating, and we were self-producing at a large scale. Over a four year development and production process, we worked with more than 20 artists, hired and managed a production team, developed a group of national touring partners, and raised nearly $450,000. We were inspired and grateful, and we were overwhelmed.

We were encountering questions that we had never encountered before. Could we present this performance on the deck of a boat? How can we move slowly and iteratively with an ensemble spread across the country? How do we create a culture of care, consent, and restfulness to counteract the toxic cultures of performance creation we’d experienced in our field?

Thankfully, Rebecca and I were invited to participate in the SPA program as a part of MAP’s 2016 cohort. It’s a vulnerable thing to open your artistic process and your creative life to a coach. But Rebecca and I have an orientation toward openness and partnership, and MAP was Vessels’ first funder. The project was the largest that either of us were working on, so having additional support from the entity that had given us significant resources felt like an easy “yes”.

Working with David Sheingold, who was the sole SPA coach at the time, felt miraculous. David helped us stay grounded while we dreamed and schemed. He was strategic and always encouraged us to remember what we knew, to trust ourselves and our intuitions, and to believe in the importance of our ambitious vision and our creative process. David helped us build confidence and a plan to tour the production, drawing on our insights, relationships, and skills. He was calm and experienced, encouraging and enthusiastic.

Rebecca and I attended a SPA gathering in 2017, which was wonderful and well-curated. All of the gathered artists were creating ritualized and/or community-engaged work. We were able to support each other in thinking through the particular issues that can emerge when inviting audiences into spaces of ritual and spiritual affect and effect.

At one point, Rebecca and I were troubling over how to build a network of potential Vessels presenters. We specifically wanted to tour the piece along the U.S.’s northeast coast to raise awareness about the oft-hidden history of enslavement in these supposed “free states”. We saw Vessels as an important historical and spiritual intervention, a potential healing balm for spaces less commonly associated with the Atlantic slave trade. Though Rebecca and I had both toured as performers in other artists’ productions, we had never organized a tour. We wanted to be as caring as possible in our touring (avoiding the extractive models that are more common in the performing arts field) and needed a strategy.

Through our coaching with David, we developed an approach to building networks and community by connecting the themes and practices of Vessels to ongoing efforts in potential tour sites/cities — folks organizing with formerly incarcerated community members and radical Black public historians, for example. Rebecca and I already had experience with this kind of organizing, but it was through our conversations with David that we re-centered and said aloud, “Oh. Yeah! We know how to do this. Let’s make a plan.” We needed someone to hold up a loving mirror to us. Based on our conversations with David, we used our MAP funds to travel to numerous cities and meet with local artists and cultural organizers, as well as organizations, and built a touring network for Vessels.

Vessels premiered in 2019 in Philadelphia. We had planned to launch the tour at the end of March 2020, starting in our home city of New Orleans. But in response to the Covid pandemic, the city shut down right before our opening weekend. Unfortunately, the touring life of Vessels did not manifest.

Although Vessels’ timeline was cut short, its development process was a beautiful journey. It was an immense blessing to have David on our team — someone we could talk to who wasn’t directly implicated by the decisions that we were discussing, who could provide an outside eye, a compassionate ear, a lot of experience. Similarly with our peers in the Gathering, we had a temporarily expanded team of collaborators to help us think through some sticky questions. That kind of collective problem solving was invaluable.

SPA is a gift, and now as the Director of Programs at MAP, it’s a joy to build and grow this program so that more artists can benefit from the caring support that SPA provides.

Ron Ragin is the Director of Programs at MAP Fund.

By David Blasher

If you’re anything like me, you love (and dare I say need) live performance. When I’m in a room with other people, experiencing a story unfold in real time, I feel my body re-member. My shoulders drop. My breathing syncs with the pacing of the music or the monologue. I feel myself being moved. Not by some digital algorithmic curation, but by human beings making something right in front of and around me — and therefore with me.

Live performance is one of our oldest technologies. Before we had phones or books or even written language, we had each other. We gathered around firelight to tell stories, dance, gasp, hum, and gyrate. That’s what performance is: an ancient tool for sense-making, for syncing our inner beats with the rhythms of the people around us. It’s how moving and talking transform into dancing and singing. It’s how a chorus truly becomes one voice. It’s how we create each other in the here and now.

As a cellist and occasional actor, I’ve learned that performance is a special kind of shared consciousness. In a string quartet or rock band, for example, I’m not just playing my part. I’m also listening for everyone else and how the cello’s notes contribute to and are uplifted by the whole. After all, being in tune is contextual. And when the music is really flowing, none of us is thinking about the last note or the next phrase or our grocery lists. We’re present. And that presence invites the audience’s attention to relax and shift: to follow the music into their own memories and dreams. It’s that kind of losing ourselves that helps us find something rich together.

This can happen through our digital space of course, and yet, as I regularly require intentional effort to take breaks from the screens and gadgets, I’m reminded why being in the room matters. The eye contact, the laughter, the collective sighs and mmmhmms: they remind us we’re alive and that our response is part of the project. We change around each other. We become more ourselves and perhaps even more each other. Someone may be working on this now, but as yet, you can’t livestream pheromones. You can’t digitize the goosebumps your neighbor is having when they feel the resonance of the room break something open in their heart. Our bodies are telling stories all the time, and live performance is how we listen back.

So if you’ve been feeling a little empty — like you’re full of content but starving for something real — consider this your invitation. Go to a show. It doesn’t matter what it is. There’s something happening nearby: a backyard puppet show, a dance in the park, a sweaty open mic, a jazz trio at the local restaurant. Your soul needs it. We need it. Not just to understand the world, but to remember we’re creating the world in the ways we show up.

If you don’t know where to start, MAP’s live performance calendar is a good place to begin. And if you’d like to tell us why live performance matters to you, as a performer or audience member, we’d love to hear from you (info@mapfund.org).

David Blasher is the Executive Director of MAP Fund.

By David Blasher

“Every artist deserves SPA.”

That’s what we believe about SPA — Scaffolding for Practicing Artists — MAP Fund’s coaching and peer gathering program. In these times of chaos, arts defunding, widespread distrust of institutions, and attacks on vulnerable communities, it makes sense that isolation, greed, and mistrust will grow. In contrast, SPA offers space and time to strengthen connection to self and community, which helps us deepen our ability to trust, share, and grow together.

Since MAP is dedicated to artists’ creations to help us imagine and build better worlds, mustn’t we also ensure they get the “spa treatment” they deserve? Over the course of my four years with SPA and MAP, I continue to see how important the program is for artists’ short and long-term growth.

My relationship with MAP Fund actually begins with SPA. In 2021, Moira Brennan, our former Executive Director, invited me to help operationalize SPA with our now Director of Programs, Ron Ragin, who has known SPA as a coach, researcher, and former artist participant/grantee. In 2021, artists (MAP grantees and Jerome Hill Artists Fellows) were trying to find footing in the turbulent conditions of COVID-19. Many were seeing opportunities for live performance evaporate in 2020. Many were asking tough questions about their practice. Many were experiencing distance and isolation. Our SPA coaches, David Sheingold, Ron Ragin, and the beloved late Georgiana Pickett, were organizing a way to move the SPA gatherings online and support artists where they were. I could immediately feel MAP’s values (especially compassion and shared responsibility) at work through every step of the process.

In that first year with SPA, I attended every two-day gathering we hosted. They were all on Zoom, and we were iterating along the way with how to create a thoughtful container for the participating artists. A $1,000 cash stipend to ease their attendance. Food reimbursements and a care package (fresh pears are now a staple of SPA gatherings). Ice breaker questions and coach facilitation processes. Prep calls, notetaking, and flexible scheduling to adapt to whatever came up for the artists before and during the gathering. It was a swift and generous process that created a “soft place to land” for artists to share themselves, questions, worries, and camaraderies. I had never experienced anything like it and continue to witness the blossoms of seeds planted in the SPA experience.

To illustrate: Migiwa ‘Miggy’ Miyajima, a musician, composer, and storyteller. I met Miggy, a 2019 Jerome Hill Artists Fellow, at a SPA gathering in March 2021. David Sheingold had been her SPA coach. In the gathering she shared work she was doing on a composition, Unbreakable Hope and Resilience Suite, which weaves together jazz and narration concerning her and others’ experience surviving the 2011 Great East Japan Earthquake.

In March 2025, I attended a performance of the Suite at Dizzy’s (Jazz at Lincoln Center) in NYC with David Sheingold. Directly after the performance, observing Miggy and David together was everything I love to see in the world. Trust, affection, gratitude, mutual respect and admiration, joy, honesty, and togetherness. It felt like they were both seeing each other across time, loving the effort, discussions, and emotions that brought the Suite to the world. It reminded me of the necessary element to art-making embodied in the mantra “It Takes Time.” It takes time to make art, develop relationships, muster courage, and share creative visions with audiences. It takes time to create, edit, collaborate, reflect, become. It takes time for the right moment to strike. It takes time to make mistakes (though, in the studio they’re often considered essential “ingredients”). It takes time to build trust in others who want to help you and to learn how to invite that help.

Miggy later shared more with me about what working with David Sheingold in SPA meant to her. Regarding moving to the U.S. from Japan, she told me, “Immigrant artists often spend their first years running around just to secure a visa, and before they know it, five or six years have passed. Building a career in the first ten years can be quite challenging.” And, when feeling overwhelmed about turning the experience of the earthquake in Japan into a piece of work, Miggy shared:

“David would say to me, ‘I believe you will create something amazing. You have the power to convey a message. I think you are special.’ Honestly, I didn’t fully understand why he believed that. But I gradually developed the ability to trust myself, thinking, ‘If such an incredible person, who is great at listening, full of ideas, and so good at encouraging people, says this, then it must be true.’”

During their coaching time, Miggy and David developed ideas for how Miggy could tell the story. Six years later, they reunited for the performance at Dizzy’s, which included a jazz ensemble of seventeen musicians and three actors. Miggy conducted the performance with aplomb and issued a reminder to the audience of the critical role artists play in “dark times.”

At MAP, we recently made the difficult decision to retire our national grant program, due to the end of support from our largest funders for regranting. In order to carry forward the spirit of MAP’s grantmaking and history, we chose to pivot our focus to SPA, so that we can continue to provide trusted support, strategic planning, and peer connection.

It’s been a tremendously busy season for SPA. We are launching new cohorts of artist participants in 2025 (MAP grantees and Jerome Hill Artist Fellows). We have exciting new partnerships on the horizon, including the recently announced Princess Grace Foundation Artist Fellowship, an initiative developed specifically to incorporate SPA. We are exploring new resources for artists to tailor their experience, along with potential opportunities to bring SPA to more artists in fellowships, grant programs, residencies, and project-based endeavors. In many ways, MAP is undergoing its own SPA experience as we learn to trust the values and history that have meant so much to artists.

Yes — it takes time to become, plan, create, adjust, and collaborate; and we are ever grateful for the help that surrounds us as we work to serve artists. SPA is a program that helps nurture what is already true in artists, so they and we can see each other more clearly for this and future chapters in the human story. Don’t we all deserve SPA?

David Blasher is the Executive Director of MAP Fund.

To view a partial recording of Miggy Miyajima’s Unbreakable Hope and Resilience Suite, click here.

To learn more about the SPA Program, check out this editorial about our process, this first-hand account of SPA gatherings from a MAP staff member, or visit our website.

In the 2024 grant cycle, MAP Fund welcomed 93 phenomenal reviewers from a wide range of disciplines and backgrounds. Working independently over the course of six weeks, reviewers assessed projects on how they demonstrated potential to exemplify and/or expand upon MAP’s mission: to invest in performing artists and their work as the critical foundation of imagining and co-creating a more equitable and vibrant society.

Taking into account the breadth across our applicant pool, we invited reviewers to draw upon their own knowledge, expertise, and understanding of MAP’s mission, bringing their whole selves to the process and actively challenging any preconceptions about what a funded project is “supposed” to look like. Rather than impose rigid parameters–which can in no way serve as an appropriate requirement for every project, nor encourage the variety of exploration that MAP champions–we invited reviewers to consider each applicant’s own standards, definitions, and goals for artistic expression.

Recently, Grants Manager Maya Quetzali Gonzalez and Programs Assistant Brandon Rumaker sat down with four of those reviewers to hear what the process looked like from their perspectives. We offer the following transcribed excerpts from those conversations in order to shed light on MAP’s process and honor all of the work that went into supporting this year’s grant cycle, our largest to date–both in funds awarded and number of applications received.

Below, read our conversation with reviewer Michael Vincent Pusey. You can also view all four reviewer Q&As on our website.

MAYA: Do you mind sharing a little bit more about your background in performance and how you brought your own experience as an artist? What is your practice and how did it influence how you saw the review process?

MICHAEL: I grew up in dance. I started in a preschool dance class when my grandfather enrolled me in a “dance traditions of the world” class; it was cute. I did tap dance in junior high and went to an arts high school for dance. In college I studied dance, and after, I worked for arts organizations — some that centered or engaged with dance, too. It’s been a little too on the nose. Eventually, I did a lot of transmutation in the arts work field, honing my skills in organizational practice, and went deeper into that, technically, administratively, and intellectually. I also made performances throughout the years as well. Sometimes the progressive funding for dance de-emphasizes traditional dance forms as a way of trying to overcorrect for what they think is an over-representation of it. I think a lot about the funding appetite for “new” or “experimental” works and am curious about the aesthetic perceptions of those words and what dance works get discounted by such qualifiers. There’s a lot of funding for postmodern forms, forms that are abstract, forms that look relevant and look good alongside contemporary art in a gallery space. But there’s also a lot of really brilliant developments happening in traditional forms of dance, not only with indigenous practices, but also with things that have inspired this overcorrection, like ballet. There’s really progressive, interesting stuff happening with people who choose to aspire to uphold a technique. All of those things percolated and influenced how I approached this process.

MAYA: I really appreciate your point about culture bearing. The emphasis is so often on experimentation and newness, but we haven’t thought as much about how that isn’t necessarily the best way to talk about these forms. Whether in postmodern or ballet, there is still a way to be intentional and thoughtful and push things.

MICHAEL: “Newness” and “experimental” is not the specific way that I would like to describe something that feels relevant and about culture bearing. What is the way to honor that an experimental dance piece can be a piece that’s not using experimental forms? In my experience, I have seen a lot of work that is forward-thinking, working in the tightness of their discipline, and experimental and new. These artists know their form and their material so well, they’re able to stretch the discipline. That’s the word I would love to see: “Stretch.” We hear “new” and “experimental” and think that means if it looks weird, somehow it’s better, and that’s not always true.

MAYA: “Experimentation” can connote a white/European avant garde aesthetic, versus a kind of practice or methodology that can be available to all disciplines and aesthetics. “Stretching” is a great word to use.

MICHAEL: I’m also curious about the word “exploratory” as a way of thinking. What does it mean to “explore” discipline? What exactly are you exploring within a discipline, within a form, and does that live up to MAP’s vision and values? Does it ultimately align? In the depth of that exploration, what are you uncovering? It could look like anything, right?

MAYA: I love “uncovering” as a word to describe a practice. We give reviewers two different ways to consider how MAP’s mission can appear in an application. First, we encourage them to look at content and form, which we’ve already talked a little bit about. The second is about care and intentionality within the creation process itself. I’m curious how that came up for you in the review process, and ways in which you find that for yourself?

MICHAEL: What I was looking for is a type of care: specificity. Works that were articulating their projects with a big swing, heal-everything approach–where everyone’s going to come to the performance, leave, and feel better–felt like they were retrofitting their work into MAP’s prompt. On the other hand, I remember a good example where it was a project that was thinking about a longer term process and the relationship between performance and childcare. The level of specificity that they were articulating their idea with– that specificity to me feels really caring, and to me is representative of that value. There were applications that had no expectation of what the audience will do or how they will leave, but could tell you exactly what the work is exploring, and exactly the limited scope of it. That also feels like a practice of care, because they’re being really honest.

BRANDON: What did you take away from this process, and how have you applied it? Did anything surprise you about the review process?

MICHAEL: There is a real thoroughness in the process as it relates to how you both (and the entire MAP team that I’ve interacted with) were really rigorous in how you wanted to onboard. I think you have an excellent onboarding process for the reviewers, and I want to shout that out! You straddle this ambiguity and this level of wanting to trust people’s subjective evaluative perception, while also helping people understand both the technical as well as the value-based ins and outs. There were some real seasoned people, people that I have seen move through grant processes before, who are pros. Then there were some people whose work I knew of, and I got to see how they talked about their work. There’s no standard, but I think the diversity was actually really useful to see. Another thing that I appreciated about the review process was that I could change my vote up until the final review deadline. Not every process has that. Sometimes I could move through ten projects, and then I realize the tenth feels like a MAP project. And I finally would get it, and then I’m thinking about the last nine projects a little differently, and now I’ve seen it, I can re-imagine what I’m going for.

An artist, researcher, and art administrator by practice, Michael Vincent Pusey primarily focuses on professional well-being. They believe one’s internal culture must be as thoughtfully considered as one’s external ambitions, and creating nimble economies of care is central to Michael’s practice as an organizational leader and consultant. Experienced in leading, building, and cultivating ambitious teams and managing equally ambitious projects with a demonstrated track record of care for both teams and projects. Michael’s work is centered on people and organizational clarity. Michael contributes to the cultural sector through their podcast and media project called On The Precipice, as a volunteer on various initiatives, and as a consultant. They can be found at theprecipice.substack.com.

You can read bios for Maya Quetzali Gonzalez and Brandon Rumaker here.

In the 2024 grant cycle, MAP Fund welcomed 93 phenomenal reviewers from a wide range of disciplines and backgrounds. Working independently over the course of six weeks, reviewers assessed projects on how they demonstrated potential to exemplify and/or expand upon MAP’s mission: to invest in performing artists and their work as the critical foundation of imagining and co-creating a more equitable and vibrant society.

Taking into account the breadth across our applicant pool, we invited reviewers to draw upon their own knowledge, expertise, and understanding of MAP’s mission, bringing their whole selves to the process and actively challenging any preconceptions about what a funded project is “supposed” to look like. Rather than impose rigid parameters–which can in no way serve as an appropriate requirement for every project, nor encourage the variety of exploration that MAP champions–we invited reviewers to consider each applicant’s own standards, definitions, and goals for artistic expression.

Recently, Grants Manager Maya Quetzali Gonzalez and Programs Assistant Brandon Rumaker sat down with four of those reviewers to hear what the process looked like from their perspectives. We offer the following transcribed excerpts from those conversations in order to shed light on MAP’s process and honor all of the work that went into supporting this year’s grant cycle, our largest to date–both in funds awarded and number of applications received.

Below, read our conversation with reviewer Gabi Girón-Vives. You can also view all four reviewer Q&As on our website.

MAYA: What drew you to becoming a reviewer in this year’s grant cycle?

GABI: As soon as I found out about MAP, I knew I had to find a way to get involved. If not by applying, then by doing something else. I really love that MAP covers a lot of expansive definitions of performance rather than just “theater.” When I heard that MAP is New York-based, I had a lot of assumptions, like I would have to be a New York resident, and that the stuff that MAP’s looking for is perhaps on the commercial end. But when I learned more, I realized MAP was really different from other funders, in that you could be from anywhere and come up with anything that you wanted to do live, whether it was a concert or opera or a ballet or a mix of all of those things. When I was reviewing, I loved seeing all of the avant garde works that were really trying new things.

BRANDON: How did you bring your experience as an artist into the review process?

GABI: I was coming from a place of always asking: what is the kind of story that they’re telling? Reviewing an opera application, for example, I asked who are the kind of singers that they’re working with? What kind of ensemble do they have? There were also a bunch of people who turned in scripts for straight plays. I’ve done tons of literary work, so I would come into that work reading people’s scripts and being like, “Okay, what’s new in here? What are you talking about that we can’t talk about easily?” It was very exciting to look through all of that work. I was endlessly surprised, sometimes horrified, and then sometimes delighted. Sometimes when I was scared of something, I was like, I have to give this a high score because of how I interpreted the rubric. I really appreciated the rubric system because I’ve read plays for festivals and other things before that try to have an objective rubric. That kind of rubric feels extremely prescriptive and really creates a vacuum on the work that is being put out there.

MAYA: I love that you shared that there were some things that came up that were scary to you. At MAP, we often think about the ways in which traditional funding operates around a sort of risk aversion, in a way that excludes things that are more risky in terms of their form or in terms of what they’re bringing up. Can you share a little bit more about what that feeling was for you and what kind of things sparked it?

GABI: There was one application I remember where their project was about performing this difficult, durational, labor-intensive piece in public. That’s horrifying to me. I would not do that. But you know what? It isn’t wrong. They have a clear dramaturgical reason for what they’re doing, and it is a live performance piece, and that’s all it really needs to be. So who am I to say that it’s not legitimate? That could be a life-changing piece of art.

BRANDON: This next question involves MAP’s core mission, which is to invest in performing artists and their work as the critical foundation of imagining and co-creating a more equitable and vibrant society. How did you define this statement for yourself, and how did the values that we’re looking for show up in the review process for you?

GABI: The thing I was thinking about the most when it came to the mission is the word “equitable.” There were a lot of projects that were socially aware, politically strong work that was being made by underrepresented voices that need to be heard. But many of those projects did not say how they would use the funds, or how equity is showing up in their process, or how they would pay their artists. They weren’t thinking about equity in a holistic sense. They were thinking of equity in a kind of aesthetic sense, like, here is our kind of work that has many people of many different races and sexualities, so we’re creating a more equitable and vibrant society. This is true, but are you creating an equitable work culture for your artists? To me, the mission of MAP is trying to create a new normal (that isn’t abusive) for the art world. We live in a capitalist world. Everybody has to pay their rent. How do we make a more equitable society if we’re not putting focus on every part of the art-making process?

BRANDON: What I’m hearing is that you valued when people were being very intentional, when they named the assumption or acknowledged the assumptions and said, this is how we’re confronting those assumptions. It’s about knowing that there’s intention to do something differently.

GABI: Absolutely.

MAYA: I’m curious if you could talk about if you’ve taken anything away from this grant process.

GABI: I feel like my process with MAP touched me quite a bit, which I did not expect. After MAP, I did a review process that was very old school. There was a sense of judgment of which work was “better written.” It put a focus on my opinion which, before I did MAP, I was really okay with. I felt like I had an objective sense of things being good or bad, but art is not objective. My interpretation of MAP’s mission is not about what you think the work is “good” or “bad.” It’s about whether or not it is a live performance piece that is equitable, and will ultimately serve a vibrant community of art-making. It unlocked something in my head when it came to these assumptions that we’re talking about. I was making the assumption that I understand everything that an artist is trying to do, but all theater is unfinished. All of the plays I read will change by the time they’re put up. It really helped me come to a more outside point of view. Instead of going internal and focusing on my aesthetic, loves, and wants, I went towards what it is that the artist is trying to say, and whether they accomplish that in what they’ve given us. They give us their project, their information, and then we have to carefully unwrap it. It’s getting to that place of genuine care for people’s work. I carry that with me everywhere now and I feel very grateful that I was able to be a part of MAP. It really did affect me quite a bit and changed my point of view in how I judge work.

MAYA: It’s great to hear that you know it impacted you so deeply. I think that’s exactly what we want from the process. I know we’re at the end of our time, but I’d love to hit you with like one final question, and you can respond in one word if you want. What surprised you about the review process?

GABI: I could do a word! Tenacity.

Gabi Girón-Vives (She/They) is a 26 year old, transfemme nonbinary, Texas and Los Angeles based writer, actor, director, teacher, and producer. Recent works include directing the premiere of “Let Me In” for the first SheDFW Theater Festival in 2024, her show “The Last Puerto Rican…,” at CalArts Latin Fest 2021, Dramaturgy for “Kubrick’s Aryan Papers,” at the REDCAT NOW Fest, and music for “Horse Play” at Coaxial Arts in LA. They have had previous work produced in Dallas at the historic Margo Jones Theatre, Booker T. Washington HSPVA, as well as at The Dallas Children’s Theatre. She has been seen acting on several stages across the US including CalArts, REDCAT, the Interlochen Center of the Arts, Winspear Opera House, The Dallas Theatre Center, Junior Players & Shakespeare Dallas, and Theater 3. She holds a BFA in Acting from the California Institute of the Arts and is currently a Michener Center for Writers MFA Playwriting Fellow at The University of Texas in Austin.

You can read bios for Maya Quetzali Gonzalez and Brandon Rumaker here.

In the 2024 grant cycle, MAP Fund welcomed 93 phenomenal reviewers from a wide range of disciplines and backgrounds. Working independently over the course of six weeks, reviewers assessed projects on how they demonstrated potential to exemplify and/or expand upon MAP’s mission: to invest in performing artists and their work as the critical foundation of imagining and co-creating a more equitable and vibrant society.

Taking into account the breadth across our applicant pool, we invited reviewers to draw upon their own knowledge, expertise, and understanding of MAP’s mission, bringing their whole selves to the process and actively challenging any preconceptions about what a funded project is “supposed” to look like. Rather than impose rigid parameters–which can in no way serve as an appropriate requirement for every project, nor encourage the variety of exploration that MAP champions–we invited reviewers to consider each applicant’s own standards, definitions, and goals for artistic expression.

Recently, Grants Manager Maya Quetzali Gonzalez and Programs Assistant Brandon Rumaker sat down with four of those reviewers to hear what the process looked like from their perspectives. We offer the following transcribed excerpts from those conversations in order to shed light on MAP’s process and honor all of the work that went into supporting this year’s grant cycle, our largest to date–both in funds awarded and number of applications received.

Below, read our conversation with reviewer Chace Morris. You can also view all four reviewer Q&As on our website.

MAYA: You’re a past grantee! Did that influence why you wanted to be a reviewer?

CHACE: That was a big part of it. I loved our MAP grant experience and the application experience. The first time we [me and my partner Sherina Rodriguez Sharpe] applied, we didn’t get the grant, but it was still a very loving and affirming experience. We got the grant the second time, and I was so excited. It was a big deal. It catapulted stuff for us. We’re forever grateful for the MAP grant experience. That was a big influence on why I applied to be a reviewer. I was so excited to help someone else get funded in that way. I wanted to pay it forward.

MAYA: How did you bring your experience as an artist into the review process?

CHACE: Initially, I wanted to not be biased, and judge fairly and clinically, but you guys encourage us to be very human in the process. It allowed for a lot of humanity and vulnerability. I had to be careful of what they call “score creep” in slam. Late in a poetry slam, you start giving 30s because everything sounds great. But the other side of being an artist is being more discerning in the details. Throughout, I was saying, “this is great, this is great, yep, this should be out in the world.” These projects should all be out in the world. Every one of these projects. It’s just a matter of who is where in the process, if that makes sense.

BRANDON: I’m curious if you could be more specific about the vulnerability you’re describing.

CHACE: There were some established companies or theaters who were leaping for a big idea. It’s still a big idea, still vulnerable, but they’ve been funded. They’ve done this before. Then there was a good deal of either independent artists or up-and-coming companies who were taking an even bigger swing. And I would like to give them a chance. It’s not about having a well-stylized work sample and everything being really ready and packaged. There’s a certain vulnerability when an applicant shows up and just says, “I wrote a paragraph that’s barely punctuated, just a concept I think should be in the world.” I would only hope that somebody would take a funding leap on me early on and be like, “Okay, maybe you don’t have the same repertoire as a professional company in New York City, but you have a great concept. I can see that your writing is passionate, even if it’s not perfect.” I think the other way this manifested for me was in ideas that I thought were crazy. Seeing some of the leaps that were taken in the proposals inspired me to take some leaps myself.

MAYA: One of the other reviewers we talked with said that she was afraid of some of the project ideas. She was thinking, “Why would anyone put themselves through this?” But she felt she had to move projects like that forward, because whether or not she would do that didn’t matter. It was more about whether the applicant is articulating their big, exciting vision. We’re getting into MAP’s mission, which is to invest in performing artists and their work as the critical foundation of imagining and co-creating a more equitable and vibrant society. Within that, there are two ways that reviewers might see that mission show up in the proposals. The first one is experimentation or deep inquiry of form, discipline, or content. The other is the care and intentionality around process. Can you speak to how you defined MAP’s mission for yourself, and if you saw these two tenants coming up in the applications that you were reading?

CHACE: In my work, we’re dealing with big, evocative topics that take a good deal of vulnerability, like walking through people’s trauma, walking through people’s colonization. These stories open things up, but there’s also a responsibility to sew it up and make sure people can move back into the world. So I was definitely looking for that with the question presented. Not only how the form and content is stretched, but how they hold people that come in. What are the unique ways that they’re having those dialogues? Are they thinking about COVID safety? Are they thinking about ways in which they’re not only bringing people in and opening them up, but sewing them up? It’s not a new idea for a lot of practices, but I think more people are now becoming aware of how they care for the people coming in. I love seeing some projects being conscious of that.

BRANDON: Maya and I have talked about how arts administration for some folks is their art form. Some folks don’t have a working arts practice, but they show up artistically to administration. As a reviewer, in the ritual of reviewing, what did care for yourself and for holding these applicants look like?

CHACE: Some of the care came from removing those patterns that push me to be efficient, be fast, be clinical, as opposed to being present and taking my time. I had to ask myself, “When do I want to do this? When would it feel best to do this?” The artists applying deserve that. I deserve that. It ended up being either first thing in the morning or late at night. I would not do them in the middle of the day because that’s when I’m doing my artistic practice, and I didn’t want my work to bleed into my judgment. I made sure I ate my soup and drank my soothing tea — that helped tremendously. It was already fun, but it became a really joyous thing. I felt like I was in a bit of a conversation with the artists I was reviewing (without them being there) just by showing up intentionally.

MAYA: I love what you said about the applicants deserving your best work. Our next question is about what you took away from the process, and I’m curious if anything changed for you, either in your own rituals around your art making and practice, or your own grant applications.

CHACE: This was my first review process, so I was very honored. I felt very empowered. Reviewing gave me space to reorganize my day. I was able to sleep, wake up, have my coffee or my tea, do the reviewing, with a seamless transition into writing. Or, I would write and then review. Now, I’m still waking up in the morning like I was during the review process and have fresh eyes on the stuff that we’re doing. When applying for my own work, I’ve submitted a lot of text because I’m a writer. But during this process I learned how much I enjoy a visual work sample. And if I enjoy it, I’m pretty sure somebody reviewing something I submit would also enjoy it.

MAYA: Many of MAP’s reviewers are doing this for the first time, which is because we’re trying to rearticulate or redefine who is “qualified” to review for a grant process. We’re asking who has sat in these gatekeeping seats historically, and how can we change that and make it more of a peer review process–What surprised you about the review process, especially as someone who’s doing a review process for the first time?

CHACE: How easy-going it was. I came in with the idea that I had to be super official. But it was very human. The reviewers were a wide swath of people, including a lot of other artists. There were a lot of applications, but the scoring, leaving notes, and then the ability to return to something all had an easy user interface. I thought I was gonna enjoy it, but I didn’t quite think I was gonna enjoy it that much. I don’t know what review processes are usually like. I imagine it’s a circle table, like 12 Angry Men–people throwing papers and yelling, “this project!” “No, this project!” This was nothing like that. This was very calm. I loved getting to write notes and ask you guys questions. I loved the Slack channel. I knew it was gonna be inspiring–I’m always inspired when I get to sit with other people’s work–but it was a really pleasant experience, top to bottom, beginning to end. You guys were amazing. The other reviewers asking questions were amazing. Everyone was using emojis in the little Zoom meetings we had, and I’m thinking, this is a community. Can we do this all the time? How do I get a permanent membership? I had a great time doing it. And I appreciated the poke when I was behind schedule. Thank you, Brandon. I almost got too lax, being like, “this is beautiful, man, everything’s love.” But I had Brandon to remind me that I gotta finish though, and then I locked in and was able to finish ahead of time. Even being poked, I knew that was a loving poke.

BRANDON: That’s really great to hear. This was my first time doing the grant cycle. It felt really good to be in process with you all, and not be some person above the reviewers that has all the answers. I was discovering everything alongside you.

MAYA: And all the reviewers got their stuff in on time, which was a first since I’ve been at MAP!

BRANDON: It was my gentle pokes.

CHACE: It was your gentle pokes!

Chace Morris is a poet, emcee, & curator out of Detroit. His work walks in the footsteps of June Jordan, Yasiin Bey, Nina Simone & Saul Williams. blending Afro-futurism & Black myth into rebel music & kinfolk magic. He is a two-time Kresge Arts Fellow (2024, 2013), 2022 Radical Imagination Grant recipient, and has received the Alain Locke Award from the Detroit Institute of Arts. Chace is also the co-founder of the art & ritual project The Digital Underground Railroad, alongside his partner Sherina Rodriguez Sharpe. When not writing, Chace watches copious amounts of movies, laughs as a form of self-medication, and curates the illest playlists in the world.

You can read bios for Maya Quetzali Gonzalez and Brandon Rumaker here.

In the 2024 grant cycle, MAP Fund welcomed 93 phenomenal reviewers from a wide range of disciplines and backgrounds. Working independently over the course of six weeks, reviewers assessed projects on how they demonstrated potential to exemplify and/or expand upon MAP’s mission: to invest in performing artists and their work as the critical foundation of imagining and co-creating a more equitable and vibrant society.

Taking into account the breadth across our applicant pool, we invited reviewers to draw upon their own knowledge, expertise, and understanding of MAP’s mission, bringing their whole selves to the process and actively challenging any preconceptions about what a funded project is “supposed” to look like. Rather than impose rigid parameters–which can in no way serve as an appropriate requirement for every project, nor encourage the variety of exploration that MAP champions–we invited reviewers to consider each applicant’s own standards, definitions, and goals for artistic expression.

Recently, Grants Manager Maya Quetzali Gonzalez and Programs Assistant Brandon Rumaker sat down with four of those reviewers to hear what the process looked like from their perspectives. We offer the following transcribed excerpts from those conversations in order to shed light on MAP’s process and honor all of the work that went into supporting this year’s grant cycle, our largest to date–both in funds awarded and number of applications received.

Below, read our conversation with reviewer Aparna Kumar. You can also view all four reviewer Q&As on our website.

MAYA: What drew you to becoming a reviewer?

APARNA: Initially, it was about understanding how artists apply for grants and what that entails. That was something completely foreign to me. That first cycle was really illuminating. I saw a ton of applicants who have years of experience and have applied for grants in the past, and then there were others who were early in their artistic careers, and maybe this was one of their first grant applications. It’s evolved because I’ve done it twice now. I’ve found it enjoyable to read what other people are working on. As someone who’s not able to spend as much time in my art as I would like, because of my full time job, it’s a connection to a whole other world that I can still participate in.

MAYA: As you noted, we have a lot of first time applicants. I think of MAP as an organization that really wants to support the artists’ ideas, and not necessarily someone’s past achievements. As a reviewer, how did you see those two different sides?

APARNA: When reviewing, I constantly had the tab open of MAP’s values. I wanted to reinforce it with every application I was reading because part of the mission is to give people opportunities to grow. I felt really privileged to read applications for an organization whose values align with my own, because it felt like a pretty natural way to review. I found myself a little biased in favor of people who didn’t have those past achievements. I want people to have opportunities to access a grant, especially people who wouldn’t have that opportunity for another organization that has more stringent criteria.

MAYA: There are two ways that we talk about our mission potentially coming through. One is a deep inquiry or experimentation with content and form, and the other is care and intentionality around the creation and presentation process. How did you define each of those for yourself in the review process?

APARNA: My experience of my artistic practice has helped me in the process of reviewing. I have been a Bharatanatyam dancer (a form of Indian dance) since childhood and in the last few years, I have had a real reckoning with this art form. The violent history of it, the appropriation of it, what it means to be an Indian person in the diaspora practicing it. These political underpinnings behind it have only recently started to become a larger discourse. The question around content and form is something I’ve been thinking about a lot. Who is the body performing it? Are they able bodied? Are they light skinned? Dark skinned? Queer? Caste privileged or from a marginalized caste? I’ve been very critical of what it means to be a certain type of person holding a platform without questioning what it entails. As a performing artist especially, you’re inherently performing your body.

BRANDON: How did you bring your own experience as an artist into this review process? These questions you’re engaging with in your practice — were there any that showed up or were amplified in this review process?

APARNA: It’s interesting, because I wouldn’t have said I was qualified to be a MAP reviewer even five years ago, because I wasn’t asking myself the same questions around dance. I think I’ve always been this person, but it felt separated from my art and my dance practice for a while. I’ve had a tumultuous relationship with my own art, and stepped away from it for a number of years. In having these questions for myself as an artist, it made it easier for me to come into a space like MAP and start to see the alignment in the values. I’ve been sitting at the intersection of a lot of these questions and my disillusionment with my own practice because of them. I’m trying to not be as prominent on certain stages or platforms; I want to cede space and give space to some people, especially some of these applications. There’s so many amazing people that deserve a platform that don’t have one and that came up in relation to my own experience trying to de-platform myself. That was an interesting thing coming up for me as I was reading — noticing when I would try to cede space to an artist. Not that it’s a scarcity mindset thing.

MAYA: It’s a really interesting framework, what you brought up about the tension between not wanting to have a scarcity mindset and wanting to cede space. It feels like the take space/make space framework: saying we want as many people as possible to be in this practice with us, and also we invite you to be conscious of how you’re showing up there. If you show up, does that mean someone else is not welcome to be there? There are so many complicated communal questions. We’ve loved having you as a reviewer for the last two cycles, in part because you leave such insightful comments on the applications. Can you share what that process is like for you?

APARNA: Sometimes, I can just see the passion and care that goes into an application. There have been applications I remember reviewing that were missing some information, but it didn’t matter, because I could see the intentionality and who the person was behind the words and behind the work sample. It’s something more than saying “I’m an artist for the sake of being one” versus “I have a voice,” or “I have something that I want to add and share.” I end up finding myself drawn to applications like that. It’s so hard to articulate, because it’s so different from person to person, but I can see the care in an application, and that care can look different for every person. I felt like I kept trying to look at certain applications like a crystal ball, which could be the wrong way: Who am I to say what impact something is going to have on someone’s livelihood after a project? But given how generous these MAP grants are, and how big of a deal this is for so many people, I feel like you can get a sense of how impactful that’s going to be on a person or a community. I have no delusion about any sort of savior mentality either. I hope that’s clear when I talk about the impact that these funds have on people. I’m sure you all know from being part of this team, but these grants could change someone’s life in a really significant way.

BRANDON: Is there anything that surprised you about the review process?

APARNA: Maybe this is a weird thing to say, but I was surprised by how good the administrative portion was. Having a Slack group, and being able to communicate with other reviewers, that’s really smart. I feel like you all thought of everything. It was really great. You made yourselves very accessible. It wasn’t just me having to review these applications and being on my own. I felt like it was actually this open forum to ask questions and acknowledge biases and bring things up that I was dealing with. I didn’t post very much in the Slack, but it was still a really helpful resource.

MAYA: I’m curious if you could talk about what you took away from this process, either last year or this year. Where have you applied it? How have you seen your own art practice grow or change as a result?

APARNA: I’ve been in so much of a creative rut in the last couple of years. How do you define yourself as an artist if you’re not making art, if you’re not practicing constantly, if you’re getting bogged down with the reality of your day-to-day and paying rent? I feel stuck in my day-to-day life, but participating in the process as a reviewer has inspired me. There are so many working artists who are putting so much effort and labor and love into their practices, and getting opportunities to make their art, and finding people to collaborate with. I would love to do that for myself someday.

BRANDON: Did you find yourself in a certain place after the first cycle versus coming into this cycle?

APARNA: Earlier this year, I had a very fruitful short period of my dance career that was really good for me. In no small part, that was thanks to participating in the MAP review process. It got me thinking about my art again, and I don’t get to think about it on a daily basis. We had deadlines to meet, and applications to review, and I would give myself time to spend shifting gears into my art brain to read these applications. It shifted things for me.

Aparna Kumar (she/they) is a video producer, director, and dancer currently living on Tongva/Chumash land, colonially known as Los Angeles, CA. She is passionate about storytelling, whether it’s through visual images or through the body, and is constantly seeking ways of bringing more equity and justice in the work they do.

You can read bios for Maya Quetzali Gonzalez and Brandon Rumaker here.

MAP Fund’s SPA Program — or, Scaffolding for Practicing Artists — was founded on the simple idea that working artists need not only financial investment, but also holistic support across all corners of their work. As an early-career writer, I know firsthand how isolating it can be to build a creative practice. Throughout my time with SPA, I have been constantly reminded that forming community and support networks is paramount to building a sustainable practice, no matter what medium you work in or what stage of your career you find yourself in. “Don’t worry alone,” is a phrase we sometimes use around SPA.

Over the course of an artist’s year in SPA, they are given the opportunity to have seven one-on-one sessions with a coach with whom they were matched based on their particular interests, priorities, and goals. Near the end of the year, five or six SPA artists come together for a SPA Gathering, facilitated by two coaches. During the Gathering, the artists each have 70 minutes to use as they will: share their work and ask for feedback; pose specific questions about topics ranging from tips for doing taxes as a freelance artist to methods for best recruiting and compensating employees; or make space for discussion about more complex subjects, such as self-advocacy with funders, performance venues, and collaborators, or how to maintain artistic and personal hope in a global climate that often feels hopeless. In my capacity as MAP’s Communications Assistant, I have served as the notetaker at nine SPA Gatherings in the past ten months, which has given me a unique glimpse into the lives, concerns, and community among SPA artists.

Every SPA Gathering takes place over the course of two consecutive days on Zoom. David Blasher (MAP’s Executive Director, who served as the notetaker at Gatherings in previous years) told me before my first experience that every Gathering was different, and that I would probably not truly understand what a Gathering could look like until near the end of the first one I attended. Over the course of the next nine Gatherings, I’ve come to appreciate how correct he was. I’ve seen one artist bring in a series of very practical, financial-oriented questions, while another shared a portion of their work and asked for feedback; I’ve seen one discuss setting boundaries and clarifying intentions with funders ahead of signing contracts, while another used the time to tell a personal story and have the rest of us bear witness. Despite being held on the relatively new technology of Zoom, these Gatherings feel like manifestations of the oldest form of technology — storytelling. Everybody in a Gathering uses their voices, stories, and knowledge to create something new for one another.

Though I attend as a notetaker, I always leave Gatherings sifting through ideas for how I might use such a space as an artist. Each artist had prep calls with the facilitating coach before the Gathering, where they discussed what topics were weighing on their minds and hearts and brainstormed paths into framing those ideas. But just like Blasher had told me, a SPA Gathering is a unique space in the arts ecosystem, for its multidisciplinary, open-structured format; it is hard to know what to expect until you are actually there, even if your coach and facilitators help you prepare, and it’s impossible to know what resources or new ideas may unfold in response to contributions from other artists.

In a perfect world, SPA would have the resources and capacity to host infinite gatherings, but every fellowship, grant, or program will eventually come to an end. It is an inevitable reality that artists will need to figure out how to keep that level of inspiration and community alive without the active infrastructure to support it. Though each Gathering I’ve attended has been entirely unique in topic and tone, they have all been united in one aspect: a thirst for more. More community, more connection, more space for these kinds of conversations. Every Gathering seems to end with somebody asking, “How can we be with each other again?” Folks sometimes exchange numbers and emails or offer invitations to their homes. Some even start up collaborative relationships.

Tanya Birl-Torres, a MAP Fund 2022 Grantee, attended a Gathering in February 2024. “I had very low expectations and wanted to be generous with my sharing and also how I held space and listened to others,” Tanya said of her experience. “I have never attended a retreat where each participant shares for that length of time.” Shortly after Tanya started on her allotted 70 minutes, she shared that she was working as the choreographer for an upcoming production written by Taylor Mac (another MAP alum). One artist in the Gathering, Timothy White Eagle Turner, perked up on screen, and shared that he, too, had previously worked with Taylor Mac.

Tanya recalled how the Gathering “allowed for depth of connection, which allowed me to connect with Timothy and find the connection in our stories. I invited Timothy to start a dialogue around a ritual Prologue for Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. It began with getting to know each other and our work and lives and developed to us doing pre-production and pitching the idea to Taylor Mac (Book Writer) and Rob Ashford (Director). We worked to craft something beautiful together over Zoom and numerous phone calls. We finally got to meet in person opening weekend at the Goodman in Chicago!”

That is SPA at its best. A place where artists can find, as Tanya puts it, “a friend first and foremost, and a collaborator of future works.” A place where artists across all disciplines and geographical boundaries can come together in a capacity that is not concerned with competition for funding or resources — all these artists were here because they had already received funding, either from the MAP Fund or our partner organization, the Jerome Foundation — and now wanted to explore what they could build with their resources, both financial and artistic.

There is always going to be a need for funding in the arts, and waiting behind that is a thirst for connection. As an early-career writer, it is at once daunting and comforting to realize that the existential need for community outside capitalism’s strict boundaries will continue to be a part of every artist’s life — no matter how different their work and careers may look.

Hannah Irene Rubenstein is MAP Fund’s Communications Assistant.

ABOUT MAP FUND

Since 1989, MAP Fund has distributed more than 1,600 grants and over $38 million to thousands of performing artists who interrogate presumptive cultural norms, challenge entrenched ideologies, and remind us over and over again of our shared humanity. MAP Fund’s seed investment is transformational in helping artists test their bold ideas and attract resources to further actualize their long-term ambitions, supporting emerging artists who were later recognized as major contributors to the culture.

MAP Fund’s work is made possible through partnership with Doris Duke Foundation, Mellon Foundation, Howard Gilman Foundation, and Walder Foundation. Additional support comes from Jerome Foundation, The National Endowment for the Arts, the New York City Department of Cultural Affairs, the New York State Council on the Arts, and dozens of individual donors. For more, visit www.mapfund.org.

Here at the MAP Fund, a longstanding national open-call grantmaking organization, we are dedicated to investing in performing artists by expanding opportunities for innovative and underrepresented artists to resource their communities. Often, this support — which includes direct funding for artists’ projects — can make the difference between dreaming and realizing the full potential of their ideas. In recent years, we have advanced this practice with a component intended to broaden investment to artists beyond the boundaries of traditional philanthropy. Starting in 2022 as an artist-directed initiative, we launched our Microgrants Program, through which all MAP grantees were invited to share an additional, unrestricted $1,000 stipend with an artist in their community. Microgrants help artists share the wealth of a MAP award, extend grantees’ agency, and amplify the reach of MAP resources, all by fostering values of mutual recognition, appreciation, and camaraderie among diverse creative communities.

Currently, each MAP grant comprises a total of $31,000: $25,000 for grantee project development, $5,000 for grantee unrestricted support, and a $1,000 microgrant for the grantee to redistribute to another artist in their community. The microgrants are unrestricted and have no reporting requirement: recipients are free to use the funds as they choose. The mechanism for distribution involves the MAP grantee naming another artist along with saying a bit about why they elected that person. While nominations can be anonymous, in most instances, the grantees decide to let their micrograntee know who nominated them.

The idea for the microgrants was designed by former Director of Grants and Research, Lauren Slone, with support from Grants Manager Maya Quetzali Gonzalez and the whole MAP team. In the 2022 grant cycle, we launched the pilot by investing $88,000 in artist-directed microgrants to 88 recipients. In 2024, that number increased to $93,000, with generous support from Doris Duke Foundation, Mellon Foundation, Howard Gilman Foundation, and Walder Foundation.

Feedback demonstrates several ways the microgrants serve MAP’s goals. First, they provide support. An unrestricted thousand dollars can make a big difference in the lives of working artists, particularly those who may not have access to financial and institutional resources needed to sustain their practice. In the 2022 grant cycle survey responses, artists reported using their microgrant on anything from immediate financial support for housing, healthcare, food, and debt relief, to longer-term investments in their artistic practice, such as supplies, studio space, or paying collaborators. Second, they connect. Of 2022 respondents, 25% reported that they had never applied for any grant funds. The microgrants create a pathway for people who have not participated in traditional philanthropy to be invited into funding through someone they already know and trust. Third, they honor. Direct recipient feedback intimates that the grant means more than just liquidity or an additional resource. It’s also a form of acknowledgment from an admired peer, a sign of validation from the world of their work’s value, and a new tool for community-building and reciprocal support. It can be a gesture of care and respect.

Here are what some of the 2022 recipients had to say about their microgrants:

• “Receiving the microgrant was a surprise and a validation, not only monetarily, but because I was nominated by a peer and someone I admire in the industry. That allows artists to keep going, [knowing] someone [is] looking out for or thinking about you.”
• “My creative work is often so low-budget that I don’t apply for grants or even calculate expenses. This was a wake up call that inspired me to start tracking my artistic budgets more seriously. I’m considering this microgrant as backpay for all of the unpaid/underpaid artistic labor I’ve done over the past two years!”
• “There are times when I feel the glue that creates a community, and learning that an artist for whom I have such great respect chose me was not only a deep honor, humbling, but it was sticky in all the right ways. I’m eager to put these funds to work and I’m grateful for the crack it initiated in my exhausted thinking of how to fund work.”
• “As an artist and a mother to two young children, navigating these consuming jobs is very challenging. I hold great appreciation to the MAP Fund for acknowledging the challenges embedded within the art practice, and caring for others.”

The microgrants underscore our practice at MAP of centering artists and their agency. The process trusts that artists know who among their own communities would benefit from resources. When nominating fellow artists, MAP grantees wrote passionately about their peers, describing them as brilliant, dedicated individuals who have too often been passed over by other avenues of formal recognition. Hearing these artists speak so strongly about one another’s practices and their value highlights the strong and supportive community of artists that often go unnurtured and unnoticed by traditional grantmaking.

Though still a recent innovation in our grantmaking structure, the response from both the artists awarding the microgrants and those receiving them has been overwhelmingly positive. The microgrants program shows how vital it is to find new and intuitive ways to engage with existing communities through dedicated support. This success demonstrates just one way applied aid and grantmaking can be tools for mutual benefit, and catalysts for community growth.

See some of the 2022 Micrograntees here; our 2024 microgrant recipients will be announced in October.

EDIT: Our 2024 Micrograntees were announced on October 8, 2024; view the full list here.

ABOUT MAP FUND

Since 1989, MAP Fund has distributed more than 1,600 grants and over $38 million to thousands of performing artists who interrogate presumptive cultural norms, challenge entrenched ideologies, and remind us over and over again of our shared humanity. MAP Fund’s seed investment is transformational in helping artists test their bold ideas and attract resources to further actualize their long-term ambitions, supporting emerging artists who were later recognized as major contributors to the culture.

MAP Fund’s work is made possible through partnership with Doris Duke Foundation, Mellon Foundation, Howard Gilman Foundation, and Walder Foundation. Additional support comes from Jerome Foundation, The National Endowment for the Arts, the New York City Department of Cultural Affairs, the New York State Council on the Arts, and dozens of individual donors. For more, visit www.mapfund.org.

There’s no instruction manual for how to craft a life as a working artist. Molding one’s creative calling into a career is complex, and maintaining a sustainable artistic practice requires practical labor and reliable resources. Applying for grants, planning performances, managing finances, exploring business models, and negotiating with agents and curators are topics that benefit from expert support and assistance. However, artists often feel left to figure it out on their own. And just as there’s no one-size-fits-all approach to artistic practice, there’s also no standard approach to building the structures to hold it.

That’s why the MAP Fund created SPA, Scaffolding for Practicing Artists, which provides artists with one-on-one coaching sessions and peer support gatherings, helping artists thoughtfully address their career practices, challenges, and goals. A yearlong program offered to a selection of MAP grantees as well as all Jerome Hill Artist Fellows, SPA is free for artists and awards an additional $1,000 stipend to offset unmet costs during their participation. As with everything MAP does, SPA exists to support artists as they develop their voice, share their work, and challenge the structures of oppression at work in the industries they inhabit. This is especially important for artists who interrogate the very systems upon which they may depend for survival — an approach that can often feel daunting and lonesome. SPA therefore supports artists to build agency and expand connection, working with selected individuals across all ages, economic means, ethnicities, genders, geographies, physical abilities, races, sexual orientations, or any other element of their unique identity.

SPA was created in 2012 by David Sheingold and former MAP Fund Executive Director Moira Brennan in response to requests for additional support from artists who received MAP Fund grants, the game-changing nature of which, as Executive Director David Blasher puts it, “could lead recipients to new questions about how to engage the funds and organize their practices.” Emphasizing process over product, the program pairs participants with one-on-one professional coaches, who accompany them through the specific challenges and questions they encounter when taking their work to the next level. The SPA coaching ensemble currently comprises 15 artists & arts workers, who bring a wide range of expertise to complement their coaching practices. Some are even former SPA participants. Coaches meet with artists in at least seven sessions over the program year, offering holistic support and centering the artists’ questions and quandaries, which include things like: How can I work with large institutions without being or feeling exploited? I am the most successful I’ve ever been, but I feel lost and uninterested in my work … how can I move through this moment? How can I balance being a new parent and keeping my artistic practice active? Curiosity, rather than formulaic answers are also key in the coaching process. Blasher notes, “In SPA, it’s important to have a coach who’s not invested in any particular outcome — like a producer, presenter, or curator — and instead is available to accompany the artist, build trust, and center from what the artist already knows.”

Near the end of the coaching year, two-day gatherings, facilitated by SPA coaches, take place, where 5–6 SPA artists unite to share work and offer questions about their practices to one another in mutually supportive sessions of peer-to-peer reflection. The gatherings also invite artists to practice offering to each other some of the skills they gained from their one-on-one coaching sessions. Participants refer to gatherings as “a soft place to land.” Each SPA participant has a 70-minute focus session, during which the topics of conversation can range widely, from intimate questions about the political and social implications of their work to brass tacks discussions about tax software, delegating to assistants, and staying healthy on tour. Gatherings have offered opportunities for participants to practice negotiating with gallerists and agents, pitching a nascent film project, sharing with their peers some of the private anxieties that have previously been relegated to their coaching sessions, and building a community of honesty and empathy with one another.

Ron Ragin, Director of Programs, and a former SPA participant and then SPA coach himself, notes, “Being able to foster a culture of trust and intimacy requires dedicated stewardship and transparency. We work closely with our coaches to support them in their relationships with the artists. For an artist to have someone to ask what might seem like ‘dumb questions’ — and to have a nonjudgmental thought partner who can work through those issues with them is a tremendous gift.” As of 2023, SPA has engaged more than 200 artists, and a 2019 assessment of the program indicates that participation has yielded consistently strong, positive impact on the lives and work of grantees. 91% of respondents indicated they would participate in SPA again.

“I think that we’re all wrestling with this question of our value as artists, like does it matter? Does this art matter? Will this art be sustainable for me? Will I be able to survive financially?” the writer and filmmaker Kate Marks says, describing her experience in SPA during the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic. “I went into SPA feeling like I don’t know if I can continue as an artist, I don’t know how I’m going to survive as an artist, and I left with concrete tools that can help me get work.” (Click here for testimonial videos from more SPA participants.)

Learning to ask for help is an important part of every artist’s path toward agency. “Even if you think you have it all figured out, there’s gonna be some things that you don’t have figured out that you thought you did, and you’re gonna learn from the people that are there with you,” the performance artist Ayana Evans shares. Too often, the tools of this trade are made to feel secret, as though in order to be a ‘real’ artist you have to act like you know the whole path in front of you from the very first step. SPA exists to check that narrative by inviting artists to honestly ask questions of themselves and one another. Ragin adds, “For me, the most exciting part of the process is watching the transition from one-on-one coaching to the peer-supported gatherings, witnessing artists offer each other such care and compassion. It’s the world I want to live in.”