Flatland Artists Studios: the art of managing a cultural worker co-op

IN A SHORT, MUSTY CORRIDOR at the entrance to an old warehouse, Marnie Badham and I sat to discuss the formation of the Flatland Artist Co-op over a chicken sandwich lunch. While at least three different genres of music blared in the background, and the smell of sawdust hung in the air, Badham spoke with the same confidence and enthusiasm that she brought to co-founding Regina's only co-operative artists' organization.

The warehouse itself looks abandoned from the outside, except for the small sign that dubs the place Flatland Artists Studios, Inc. But inside, beyond the corridor in which we sat, the warehouse has been divided into 14 studio spaces, housing an eclectic mix of artists--from sculptors to photographers to woodworkers--who work both individually on their own art, and together to master the art of managing a cultural worker co-operative.

"It was a lot of sweat at the beginning," said Badham. "We weren't totally comfortable about going for it with great guns right away, so we thought we would start small and grow."

Flatland Artists Studios was a product of Badham's frustration with the difficulty, as an artist, of renting studio space. "I was renting studio spaces and squatting in warehouses once a month, where it's unsafe at night and kind of scary," Badham recalled. She soon realized that she wasn't the only one who found her experience working in the warehouse district to be dangerous and unpleasant: with no readily available water source for paintbrushes, no insurance against fire or theft, poor lighting in parking lots, a severe need for ventilation, and no safe way to lock up artists' space and supplies, making art was becoming more of a burden than a gift.

Soon enough, word of a possible co-operative artist guild began to spread, leading to a surprisingly successful organizational meeting. "A whole bunch of people came to the meeting who didn't even need studio space, but were really supportive," said Badham. "A tonne of people were really interested, and eleven of them committed to actually going for it."

In the summer of 1998, these eleven artists kicked things off by teaming up and committing to pay the first month's rent, and then set to work building studio spaces with recycled building materials. The actual studios were designed as individual portions of space within a large warehouse floor, allocated so as to fit each artist's needs for example, painters may have tried to situate their studio space near a window for a natural light source.

The co-operative structure of the studio was designed based on models of other co-operative organizations such as the film co-operative in Regina and city-sponsored artist co-operatives in cities like Winnipeg and Toronto. "But the most important thing to us when we started," Badham emphasized, "was the space. You want other artists around you to inspire you, support you, and provide technical support, creative support, to work on collaborative projects, share rent, and provide a sense of safety."

As the paperwork grew, it became obvious that having eleven people participating in the decision-making process was complicated. So, while collective management still remained a priority for the studio, decision-making was largely delegated to a board of directors, and the artists began taking on distinct roles.

Badham said that it wasn't until the co-op was in place that the group was able to do some long-term planning. This planning, she said, included trying to meet the immediate needs of the artists, as well as the broader arts community and the public, all of whom were seeking a place to pursue public funding for extra programmes. To that end, the studios received funding from private and public donors.

However, for a co-op that emphasizes private, personal space for artists, involving the public turned out to be problematic. The artists had begun offering public access to equipment, various instructive sessions with artists, and other community-oriented projects, but these activities were beyond the simple mandate of their co-operative.

"Our main purpose is the production of art, and our main mandate is to support artists by providing safe, affordable, community-based space," explained Badham. "And we realized that if we're running drawing workshops or whatever, that's more of an independent thing rather than the work of the co-operative. At this co-operative, we just want to make sure people have a good space to do art."

According to Darren McKenzie, a master woodcarver and one of the founding members of the studio, living up to the co-op's mandate continues to be very difficult. "We're gradually filtering out some people who aren't serious artists. There are a lot of us who are very serious and need space," he explained. "We're trying to utilize all of the space now. Some of it is just used for storage by artists, and we're trying to get away from that so that everyone here has space and is actually working in it."

McKenzie finds it beneficial for artists to work together as a collective unit. The Studio "is starting to feel more like a community, and there are lots of positive vibes and lots of creative exchanges, discussions, critiques, that kind of thing," he said.

Then again, it's not only the sense of community that draws these artists together. At Flatland Artists' Studios, Badham pointed out, the price is right for most renters. Renting a whole section of a warehouse is unrealistic for most artists. "Landlords aren't interested in renting to individual artists, because they don't have a lot of money and they rent small spaces. You'll never get a long-term lease for a twenty by twenty square foot studio.'"'

The co-operative is now financially secure enough that only a small amount of its funding comes from donations, with the bulk of the revenue generated from each artist paying her or his own rent. Members pay rent to the co-operative organization, and any surplus goes toward supplies, building maintenance, and renovations such as ventilation fans or the construction of a welding booth. And to promote themselves, the studio relies on free publicity and their annual open house, which has traditionally brought out hundreds of visitors.

Finally, as she stepped out into the bright light of the warehouse parking lot, our interview (and her chicken sandwich) finished, Badham offered her last tidbit of advice on successful co-operative collaboration. "Any co-op system needs to grow naturally. Don't take over a whole building and try to fill it up. You need to respond to the needs of the community rather than trying to start with your vision."

Chelsea Jones is a Regina student and freelance writer working towards a career in journalism.

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