Funding Creative Work: A Theatrical Exploration in Four Scenes
Performer, choreographer, and Kickstarter creator Raja Feather Kelly invites you into the dream and the reality of funding a creative project.
Raja Feather Kelly is a choreographer, director, and founder of the feath3r theory, a dance-theater-media company. In this piece, he retraces the evolution of his relationship with crowdfunding.
SCENE ONE: Reality
Lights up on your bank account—and it’s empty. “Thank you everybody for coming. This show is over.”
This is a dream. No, this is a nightmare, one that I have had far too often: I am an artist, I make performances, I have ideas, and the only thing that gets in the way of me and my ideas is whether or not I have enough money to realize them. Do I have enough money to book a rehearsal space, pay performers, hire a design team, and print little disposable 3-by-5–inch cards for people to remember I am having a show because they get too many Facebook invitations to take notice?
Suddenly being an artist becomes about fashioning myself as a producer. It’s not that this part of it is not exciting — it is — but doesn’t it seem like everyone is asking for money, every day, all day? Yes, this is a part of the nightmare too. Oh, and also … What if people say no? Or worse, what if they say yes but then they hate my work?
At first didn’t even think the money for my projects existed, but it does; I can see it. It’s all around, and everyone is making a show, getting donations. Every day there is another funded project, and weekend after weekend these funded projects are having their world premieres. What gives? Or, a better question, who gives? And how can I get my empty bank account to be full of rehearsal-space monies and better-than-reasonable artist fees?
SCENE TWO: Getting over it
I ran a Kickstarter campaign once and vowed never to do it again. It was exhausting and I was anxious for 30 days. All of the energy I had saved up to perform felt used up by asking for money. I was embarrassed to look people who didn’t donate in the face for fear that I was guilting them, and felt the people who did back my project looking at me with “YOU BETTER MAKE A GOOD SHOW” written across their faces.
It turned out fine. The show happened, people clapped, and no one asked for their money back. Success?
SCENE 3: The growth montage
The same dream, the same nightmare, the same anxiety all over again: The Kickstarter campaign worked the first time, would it be possible to do it again? I don’t think so. There would be no way to do it again.
I complained, “I make shows, I don’t make fundraisers.” And somewhere in there it all flashed before my eyes, like all great ideas do in the movies of our millennial minds: Fundraisers are performances. Asking people to give money to a show is the same as asking people to give money to make a show. There is an idea, a request, a call to action, a result, a gathering, a sharing of ideas and gratitude.
SCENE 4: The present
I have run three successful Kickstarter campaigns, raising nearly $15,000 a year for my projects, and the last two campaigns lasted only 24 hours. I am now a person that people often ask for crowdfunding advice. Now there are many other companies doing the exact same event that my company reinvented: the telethon. A 24-hour event where I invite everyone I know to come and party with me, to eat cake and drink booze, listen to music, watch some kick-ass media, enjoy performances, laugh, joke, and enjoy each other. Meanwhile, I sit at a computer and I call everyone I know, asking them to donate to a cause much bigger than myself, a cause that I defend on a daily basis: Making Art.
The truth is, I really don’t know how to fundraise. I do, however, know how to put on a show, entertain people, and have a good time. The fundraising part has become a personalized interaction with each person who donates; I answer their questions, field their interest, I thank them for taking the time out to talk to me, for their continued interest in my work, and I invite them to continue participating.
Wait, that’s awesome. Did I just become a thoughtful and engaging artist who cares about the experience of the people I ask to support me? Whoa. Achievement unlocked!
End scene.
