In October of 2014, I had already given my notice at my last full-time employment job, with a plan to launch Benvenuti Arts that November, when I received an email. The exact words are no longer with me but, paraphrased, it said:
“The Indie Theater Fund is looking for consultants who might help us, but we don’t really have money to pay them. If you know anyone who might be interested, please put us in touch!” This was clearly an offer I could not refuse.
In 2014, I had hit the proverbial wall. After almost a decade working as a Managing Director and Director of Development in theater and dance, I had done a lot that I was really proud of. But, unfortunately, I had also hit my limit with some of the more challenging aspects of our industry. The destructive egos, abuses of power, and culture of underpayment and overworking had become more than I could handle, and I needed a way out. At that time, my mind was too scrambled and my emotions too raw to try to figure out a complete career change. On top of that, I truly loved working in arts and culture.
Years ago, I was lucky to once receive a bit of mentorship from Susie Medak, the longtime Managing Director of Berkeley Rep until 2022. We spoke about realizing that she would not have a professional artistic career, and then finding out about arts management: “It felt like I was thrown a lifeline.” I echo that sentiment myself. I was a perfectly adequate musician, but discovering arts management – and discovering that I was good at it – felt like the universe saving my dream from drifting away. So, after almost a decade, to feel so exhausted by it all was – and I am not exaggerating – devastating.
A few years prior, in 2011, when in a different job that turned out to be a pretty awful place to work, another mentor of mine, Will Maitland Weiss, told me to find small things that I could do and feel good about. While I was able to find a few things in that short time employed there, I also found myself returning to the things I had originally loved about this work.
Some of my favourite memories were, and still are, from my time as Co-Director of Future Tenant with my now Deputy Director (and sister from another mister), Julie Hord, while in graduate school. The space was dirty and cold and didn’t have a bathroom: we actually found a drunk musician trying to pee in our utility sink after a show one time. But in that run-down storefront, we and our artists had so much space to experiment and dream. Fuelled by donated cheese and more PBR than we could ever drink, we helped artists build literal treehouses that transformed the space; create a massive fashion art exhibition bringing together a burgeoning Pittsburgh fashion community; and, for many, put up their first ever exhibitions or performances. That is where I had always found the most joy: in working directly with artists who did not have organizations or resources behind their work, but were making big things happen despite it all.
So, back in 2011 while in an unhappy job, I had begun, on the side, supporting some artists with grant writing, marketing, and producing. In the summer of 2014, I was still doing this work on the side, and decided that I wanted to try to make this work…well…work. The dream was small: could I piece together enough work with independent artists and tiny organizations to simply not have to take another job in a bigger organization? I held on desperately to the belief that I could make a difference and that we did not have to be egotistical assholes to create great work.
So, when I saw that email from the Indie Theater Fund, I was excited and responded immediately, even knowing that I might be doing pro bono work for a time. You see, the Fund was founded by Randi Berry and a group of theater artists who wanted to do things differently. They believed in the entire ecosystem in the theater community, and that you can’t have the great works on Broadway stages without experimental indie theater happening in basement spaces citywide. They knew that philanthropy didn’t support artists directly or small companies, and were building a new kind of organization that might help the indie theater community be more self-sustainable. They believed in community and kindness and equity. I had been inspired by them for some time, and leapt at the chance to be a partner in their work.
The Indie Theater Fund – now IndieSpace – was not my first client, and they certainly weren’t the only one with these values. But whenever I have gotten frustrated with the philanthropic world, overwhelmed by the need of my clients, or complacent in my efforts to create a better way of working, IndieSpace and its Founder, Randi Berry, have reminded me that I’m not alone in this.
Since that day, 10 years ago this month, I have been so extraordinarily lucky to have found many other partners in this work, who push me to keep going. There’s the entire Benvenuti Arts team: a group of passionate, compassionate, and dedicated creatives who amaze me and inspire me every day. There are our clients, many of whom push the boundaries of what is “realistic” in this industry, making foundations, bigger institutions, and their communities see that change is truly possible. There are my mentors and colleagues, who share strategies and a bottle of wine when it all feels too hard.
And sometimes, it does feel too hard. Building a better, more compassionate way of working is expensive, and prioritizing the smallest, most underserved groups is anything but lucrative. The events of the past decade have made incredible, impossible challenges for our clients, and while we are inspired by their fight, we also feel, so deeply, every hit, every stressor, every tear that our clients experience. I also feel the inherent tension every day of my belief that the US philanthropic system is deeply harmful and needs to change, while also owning a business that makes our money because that system exists.
It’s not easy, but having such an incredible community around that believes as we do makes it all possible. And Benvenuti Arts is only still here because of the wonderfully passionate, thoughtful, and creative colleagues that have continued to believe in this.
So, on the 10th Anniversary of Benvenuti Arts, I want to say thank you. Thank you to my Deputy and sister, Julie Hord, who has been with me almost every step of the way, and without whom none of this would have been possible. Thank you to the clients and partners and mentors and friends for the privilege of working alongside you all these years. And, of course, thank you to the BA team, past and present, for keeping this thing going and believing in the work we do in a way I had only dreamed someone else might. The future of this work is in your hands.
Sarah
