Why Am I Supposed to Work for Free?

I’m a performance artist. This means I’m asked to “donate” performances, work for less than my professional value, and generally make people feel happy and entertained without being able to feed myself or afford transportation or supplies to create my entertaining piece of art in the first place. I’d like to say for the record that being an artist =/= being an intern.

I’m also a professional Dominant. People frequently approach me asking me to work with them for free or less than my rates. Often these people get agro when I decline or don’t immediately respond to their request. It feels pretty oppressive and steeped in entitlement.

According to our culture, as a female and as a queer person, I should feel less than worthy of payment for my work. It’s how the people with money keep their money in one place: circulating within a community of people who look just like them and who play the same games. I know I shouldn’t be making money or be seen publicly with all these politics written on my body. I know the sex I was assigned at birth has meant I was taught tirelessly about care-taking others, how to see the world from other people’s perspectives, and it’s rewarded me (or at least beat me down slightly less viciously) for showing compassion (or shutting up) in even outrageous situations. The same world who made up these infuriating rules and created the pay gap also failed to decide that being a minority or underprivileged person means that I get to pay less to eat, clothe myself, and find housing.

So you see, I actually need to be paid for the things that I do.

Especially the things I do which comfort others at the expense of my time, energy, and expertise. The specialized training I’ve garnered from being a minority and underprivileged person my entire life counts toward a university degree or two in and of itself. I want my value appreciated.

I bring this up because it’s been a struggle of mine which has reared its head much lately. Fundraisers. I’m happy to apply to and perform in a fundraiser when it’s clear what the pay situation is (if I can afford to and I care about the subject). I’ve worked for free or reduced pay in the past with no issue. I’ve done a couple fundraisers for sex workers lately, and I approached another one recently. It was a show I’ve been wanting to perform at for a while, and they were actively looking for out sex workers to perform in what was also meant to raise funds for the sex worker community. They were happy to have me on the bill when I wrote to them, and then they mentioned that they were paying their performers half of their regular performance rate because the show was a fundraiser. The rate they quoted wouldn’t even cover my bus to the city, much less feed me, pay for costumes, or come close to offering some kind of living hourly wage (not that performance rates ever really do)…

Following was my response, and I fully admit it’s a hard conversation. I like the show, but there has to be a better way to sell tickets and raise money than this. This method is epidemic in the art world, and I bring attention to it because the way we look at art usually has nothing to do with the struggle of artists. And the way we look at fundraisers rarely has anything to do with raising awareness about how all of the parts function together. The ticket buyer would have come to the show if it was a fundraiser or not, they’re being entertained exactly the same way as they would were the show not a fundraiser, and so the artists are the ones ultimately footing the bill… Unless you fundraise in a different way.

Hi ___,

This is not the show for me to perform in then, thank you for laying it out. Since I’m coming from out of town and I’ve been a professional in the performance art industry for almost 30 years, I do not usually perform for under $___/act. Let me know if you’re willing to discuss pay with me at some point for future events.

I would also like to ask you to consider something else, if you would. You are producing a fundraiser *to benefit* sex workers, and asking sex workers to perform in it. Sex workers, now more than ever, are having a really hard time and struggling to make ends meet, to maintain clients and to find clients, and to support themselves in general. Under FOSTA/SESTA things have gotten harder and less safe. Anyone who identifies as a sex worker is facing hardship right now. As I’m sure you know, sex workers are a group of people who are almost entirely made up of women, trans people, and people of color. To cut a performer’s pay in half — especially a sex worker and a minority’s pay — is not only stressful for the sex workers who are giving their time to your stage as artists and activists and people invested in making their reality a topic for broader conversation and deeper understanding, but it’s stressful because the opportunity to put that conversation out in the public comes at a cost. That cost is emotional labor, education, and potential exposure to harassment (or worse). That cost is personal. Many artists who are sex workers are in the industry in the first place to fund their performance and art careers.

I cannot in good faith support this particular endeavor of yours as a career performer, artist, and as a sex worker. If you’d like to raise money for sex workers, consider how you can raise those funds without taking it directly from sex worker’s (and frequently minority people’s) pockets. I know it can be a good production strategy to do fundraising shows, and as artists we want to bring attention to current politics and human interest issues, but I think there has to be a better way to do these things than by defunding the individuals who are creating art and who are educating the public.

I wish you well. Please do think of me for future events. I’m happy to discuss this with you more, and I hope your local community has a great time at this show. I hope that you’re able to execute your vision with support and vigor. ~Creature / Karin

I get it, producers of art, especially artist/producers, have it really hard. I’ve done it for years. You do not make bank from that job, especially if you’re doing it for your own artistic voice’s visibility. I wish I had a booking manager (any takers?) because it would free me up to do what I’m passionate about rather than spend many hours online hunting for jobs and going 15 rounds on contract details before spending 75-300+ percent of my project’s pay on supplies to create the project, transportation, and other job related expenses.

Creating, performing, teaching, pleasing, and deeply connecting with people is what I’m passionate about and (might I say) pretty great at. I wish I could afford a home big enough to choreograph in and work out of comfortably. I wish that my efforts — the ones which makes audiences and clients happy — were valued without me having to defend my position over and over again each time I consider accepting a gig.

To the general public I have to say: if something makes you happy, and you value being happy, pay the person who created that happiness well. It’s probably a job they’re doing while trying to survive.

Play On My Friends,
~ Creature

Please support my work on Patreon, or for one time: Support the Artist or email me.
~Thank you.

Connection and Shame

Photo by RADskillZ Photography 2013

Why do I love the sex work that I do? Simple. It feels amazing to connect with individuals and couples and to help them find that place of openness which leads to a delicious exchange of sensual energy. That’s really most of it, sometimes done with whips and blindfolds, sometimes with massage oil, sometimes with my voice or command… It feels incredible when a person lets me in and I get to guide them through a new experience or show them how easy and sexy and rewarding communication can be. I enjoy seduction, I love everything about it. In a very grown-up way this work defies “growing up”. The adult playground is a reality I love to share with others (call me Pan)… Negotiation, consent, seduction, and positive experiences abound. I’m into it!

Individuals I’ve worked with have told me they were able to enjoy activities they’d never thought of before or were nervous about, that after our sessions they were able to communicate with their other partner(s) better, and some clients have brought techniques I taught them home for more satisfying sensual connections there. I’ve been informed that my energy and guidance felt natural, built organically over the course of a scene, and that I was easy to work with and learn from. I’ve been told that people consistently found themselves enjoying experiences they were nervous to try or worried they wouldn’t like, and so were able to learn something new about themselves. I’ve been told by couples I’ve worked with that they felt very confident trying new things with me, and that they were able to communicate more openly and creatively with their partners after a session or two of us working together. I’ve been told that working with me felt like a safe place to open up and grow.

I love this work. How could I not?!

My solo show is entitled “NO SHAME”, and that’s an idea I’m serious about when it comes to sensual and sexual things. I think it’s important that we’re able to differentiate which parts of that feeling, shame, have been thrust upon us or taught to us in reaction to certain stimulus, and which parts of that feeling come from an authentic place inside meant to teach us about our own personal boundaries or current needs. Shame is not a useful feeling when used to limit oneself out of fear. It often leads to self-repression. Self-repression is a scary tool when employed over a long period of time, and can be traced to a lot of inappropriate and harmful behaviors including outright abuse.

Just think what the world might be like if instead of feeling bad about our sexual and sensual needs, we were celebrated by our communities for discovering more about what makes us happy and turned on. Imagine if we were taught about consent and sensual/sexual negotiation and good communication skills, rather than repeatedly mis-informed about sex and steeped in a lifetime of superficial and harmful stigma related to the subject. I believe we’d be better at communicating with one another in general, and we’d probably be happier in our day to day realities too.

Despite my desire to examine shame and banish it from one’s primary experience of sexuality, I think it’s also a really good guidepost for learning more about what we need and desire from ourselves and others. When I feel an authentic pang of shame (rather than a reactionary dose of the feeling) it’s often because I realize I didn’t do the best job communicating with someone, or I realize I may have caused unwelcome unease or pressure in a situation. This information let’s me know I should be paying more attention, that I can do better, and that a follow-up conversation or a check-in might be in order.

Shame is a good reminder to slow down and check in with myself: do I think I pressured someone into a thing? Could I have negotiated what happened more clearly? How did the persons(s) I was negotiating or playing with actually respond to or communicate with me? Do I need to have a follow-up or check-in about anything? Does my feeling of shame come from my own boundaries being pushed or ignored? Could I have been clearer about what I wanted? How would I articulate what I need now if I was to articulate what I failed to before? Am I simply worried I did something wrong and that there may be consequences forthcoming, and can I work to let that feeling go (this one is specific to my own baggage/anxiety, but I’m sure it’s not uncommon)? What can I give myself now, or ask for from another person, to actively address, heal, or release the discomfort I’m feeling?

I remember the first time I had a threesome in college. It was a great night, but I woke up the next morning worried I’d done something wrong or that I was bad. I called my mom to process, and she just asked me a few really clear questions: “Did you have fun? Did everyone else have fun? Did anyone get hurt?”… When I answered, “Yes, yes, and no”, she replied, “Then I don’t think you need to feel bad about it, I think you can let yourself enjoy that experience.”

Thanks Mom!

These are some of the ways I’ve learned to address my own feelings of shame — a common foil to deeper connection with those around me. When I’ve spoken up rather than hid behind the feeling, often really wonderful conversations (and sometimes hard ones) have been had. Healing and growth can result, and even better experiences are waiting in the wings when I acknowledge what feels good, or with an open mind and heart, what doesn’t.

Play On My Friends,
~ Creature

Please support my work on Patreon, or for one time: Support the Artist or email me.
~Thank you.

My Recent Art = Your Fault (The Harry Potter Dirty Nipple Edition)

My rendition of Sirius Black recently caused waves of “titillation”…

Apparently my nipples alone can crash the whole damn system.

My body has been censored my entire life. Since age 7 I’ve been keenly aware of this weaponized female body of mine, and 33 years later I’m still being told to cover up, or else. My body is dangerous, inappropriate, not-masculine-enough-to-be-looked-upon-nude, yet too-feminine-to-be-left-in-peace-without-commentary. As FemBoyCreature my body is clearly meant to be made money off of — to shave, cover up, costume, and prettify in order to sell tickets, please. My actions against this mandate are absolutely battle strategy depicting dominant ownership of this body I like to think of as “mine”.

I don’t “play along” very well. My creative mind is disinterested in doing what’s appropriate over what I find to be playful and effective. I have more than once been erased from the historical record which social media keeps via photographs and video clips. I prefer to continue on my merry way followed by those who actually want to make meaningful change and understand that nothing ever shifted by pleasing the forces that be. Especially aesthetically, and especially concerning equality.

I performed twice this past week as Sirius Black from Harry Potter, in a HP themed show. My performance was a pretty traditional striptease. I transformed from Sirius, the man, into a dog by the end of the act — Sirius’s animagus form, Padfoot.

I didn’t wear pasties in my act.

This choice, apparently, broke someone.

This choice, apparently, made people wonder about whether the venue could lose its liquor license.

This choice, apparently, had some audience members uttering, “That’s awesome, soooo illegal, but AWESOME!”, under their breath while watching.

This choice, apparently, made such waves that for the four days between shows I couldn’t get a straight answer from my producers or anyone at the venue about whether I would be able to do my second show the same way. At the last minute before show call, I was made to submit an artistic statement about the choice to not wear pasties in order for there to be an unadulterated second performance. What male performer, may I ask, has been asked to do the same while performing topless in Cambridge, MA?

I hope my nipples can crash the whole damn system… I’d love to create my art as it occurs to me to make, and not deal with drama surrounding its presentation.

My Patrons are the people who helped me make this piece of art, and they are helping me create my next. For my next performance I’m playing “Anonymous”. It’s a benefit show fundraising for sex workers called “Herstory“,  and the theme of the show is artists playing historical Femme characters. My inspiration for this piece resonated in the well known words of Virginia Woolf, “For most of history, Anonymous was a woman.” So I shall perform my piece in honor of the unnamed women and minorities who have been my ladder in this lifetime.

My Patrons have been sent a video of my Sirius Black performance. If you would like to be a patron of my work and receive videos, backstage glimpses, and the occasional writing which I don’t publicly share, please visit my Patreon Campaign and contribute. I post up to 6 times a month, and you can cap your donation if you need to. Thank you for your consideration — and a huge thank you to those of you reading who are already a part of my artistic funding team!

This past month I made a mask, hand painted temporary tattoos, and whipped up costume pieces, I cut my wig, trimmed down some new lace facial hair, and spent a tiny fortune on all the little pieces that go into playing this character effectively on stage, I choreographed, filled out paperwork, and I showed up to my day-long tech rehearsal on time.

I’ve performed bare-ass naked on Oberon’s stage before, pastie-less a number of times, and created art which has brought up way more contentious issues than the female nipple. This was the artist statement I submitted in order to perform the second show sans pasties:

I was just now forwarded your letter to the producers of the Potter Prom asking for my thoughts on the pastie issue. I am sending you what I replied to them with. I had also forwarded an entire letter concerning this incident with this information on Monday, hoping you would receive it then. I hope this suffices, I do not wish to change my act tonight. Please reply directly to me if you can, I am on a bus on my way to Boston.

Thursday, June 21, 2018
Dear _____,

The following is cut and pasted from my letter to the venue which I sent on Monday:

The choice [not to wear pasties] is an artistic one. My performance in the Potter Prom is a gender bending and shapeshifting comment on the body. As a trans artist with breasts who frequently plays male characters, I was absolutely invoking the idea of the meaning of the naked breast and gender expectations; also from the perspective of a character who stands up for his rights, the rights of others, and who challenges the authorities and the laws he finds immoral.

It was never my intent to challenge [Venue] itself. My understanding of the venue was that because it had a theater license, the artistic choices held within a theatrical performance were allowed, nudity being a common form of free speech. If I was incorrect about this, I apologize, and ask that the venue let me know how it functions surrounding nudity so that I might not make the same mistake again.

I prefer not to wear pasties tonight. 

Please let me know directly if that is unacceptable.
~Creature/Karin Webb

Maybe I’m all out of fucks about my nipples being an issue in public… I’ve been fighting this fight forever, and I’m tired. I am the only artist in the cast not to have any publicity photos to share from our first night of performance — I don’t even know why, considering there were ample opportunities in my performance where my back was turned, my clothes were on, or I was posed in a manner which obscured my un-adorned breast points. If Cambridge, MA and artistic associates, in the year 2018, cannot figure out how to embrace the “whatever gendered nipple” on stage, I have very little hope for civilization at large.

Help me fund my art, and I will continue to challenge what mores I am able to simply by breathing and creating in the body I was born into.

After the second show a very excited audience member made their way up to me and shook my hand, while out tumbled the words, “Thank you so much! Thank you for putting my gender on stage! I never thought I’d see that, thank you!”. I replied, “Your welcome, it’s my gender too.”

Play On My Friends,
~ Creature

Please support my work on Patreon, or for one time: Support the Artist or email me.
~Thank you.

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