10 Things I Wish My Non-Artists Friends Knew- Pandemic Holidays Edition

Though the holidays are a time we all enjoy, it is always a little grueling for artists that go home to family gatherings. We usually have to field awkward uncomfortable questions from loved ones, who mean well but know very little about our industry.

They make slide comments, unhelpful suggestions, and sometimes even mock. This year is not like every other year though. Most people can’t be home with their families, they can’t perform traditions or even just share a space with people they care about.

Being in the age of technology where everyone is just a moment away, either by email, text, phone, or video call, we are still able to keep in touch. This can be a blessing and a curse because those unwanted questions and comments are still present. It’s just that now they are coupled in with the only time we can communicate with loved ones.

Patience, as always, is required from both parties, but this year these interactions sting just a little bit more.

This year our industry, the way we had known it, has gone dark and our place in it has been left up in the air. I often wonder how blunt I can be to those around me that can’t begin to understand what this year has done to the arts. Sometimes it’s too difficult to put into words for ourselves. 

This time of year usually is a very busy and prosperous time for artists

In normal times, as we’ve come to call it, the holiday season would usually be a hectic time for us creatives. From holiday shows to seasonal work, our schedules would be full of work, activity, and wrapping up the year to prepare for the next. People would be generous and friendly. Like most other people, artists have found this time during the pandemic lackluster. Like the rest of 2021, it has meant a loss of income and opportunities.

I don’t want to find a new career

Many people have suggested we find another line of work as if it’s as easy as snapping our fingers. It seems like these people have forgotten the economic toll the pandemic has had on most other industries. The jobs are few, the applicants many, and for a lot of these places they falsely see our skills as nontransferable. Finding a new career now would mean training and education, equalling to allocating ample time and money.

The bottom line is that it is expensive to find a new line of work, to relocate, and find a new way to make a living that can not be covered by our meager unemployment funds. Also, we simply do not want to. We love our work. We love our craft. Why must we change our life path, dismiss our years of experience and training, just because our country does not see the value of saving our industry?

We feel less appreciated than ever

To see everyone turn to the creative arts to get them through quarantine and then turn around and suggest artists just find another line of work, is insulting beyond words. There have been times that people have made me feeling like my work is merely a glorified hobby, but in this time of crisis, it has helped many. And still, my industry is dismissed.

We miss our lives from before, no matter how hard it was then, this is harder

It would be shocking to some to hear that we enjoy our turbulent profession. It takes a certain type of person, not someone who is faint of heart or thin-skinned. It might frustrate us, tire us out, make us feel insecure at times, but to us, it’s worth it. We miss it. We feel its absence every second of the day and it hurts.

It might seem like I’m being creative but it feels empty

A lot of us have been trying to continue to strive to create. With no sign that theater will open soon, it has been challenging. A lot of the time we don’t feel like making art at all. We have found new ways to share our work, but with the absence of a gathered community, sharing a space to tell a story, theater feels like a shadow of its former self. We are trying to adapt, be innovative, and daring, but it just doesn’t feel the same. It feels lonely.

Even though your life can adapt to the new normal, mine can’t

It seems like a lot of those close to me who are not artists are adapting the best they can to this new way of living. We have all been trying to do the best we can and for the most part, we have been surviving. But for an artist, our very way of life, our work, requires physical contact, the sharing of a space, the collaboration with other bodies in real-time. This makes it nearly impossible for us to go on as close to normal as we can.

A lot of us have felt like a big piece of us is missing because, though it might be hard to understand, our profession is every bit a part of us as limbs or organs. We need it.

I have to make impossible choices

For some of us, survival has meant having to make big changes. Some have decided to pursue other passions. When food needs to be put on the table for one’s family, you can’t fault people for having to leave a career behind.

My heart really aches for those people and I hope their new prospects make them happy. Some of us have to leave our homes and relocate to somewhere more affordable, leaving friends and collaborators behind. Some have had to go help their families with businesses and sick loved ones. All these things have been incredibly painful choices. The pandemic has changed the trajectory of lives, sometimes without the chance of one day possibly turning back.

Making a thankful inventory or a list of accomplishments is challenging this year

As the year wraps up, it is customary to take stock of what was gained, lost, and fulfilled. Sometimes we have not accomplished the artistic goals we set for ourselves in the new year, but this year has set a lot of things awry. It is hard as an artist to feel like this year has been fulfilling. It is hard sometimes to feel grateful and that you’ve overcome challenges.

A lot of us are struggling, and the possibilities of a new year feel daunting rather than exciting. We don’t know what the future has in store for our industry if it can survive until immunization. This can be paralyzing. Some days it feels like we’ve just been trying to survive the panic that it might not.

Somehow I’m still finding a reason to hope

Despite all of the above, I still find rays of light and positivity. I find hope in my community. I believe in us. I trust us. I know we will pull through. I know we will be here for each other because, throughout all this, we have been each other’s pillars, strength, humor, and encouragement. It saddens me to think that some people do not have as strong of a support system as fellow artists do. We are truly lucky.

Niki Hatzidis is, a writer, actor, and award-nominatedplaywright. http://nikihatzidis.squarespace.com @nikihatzidis