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Resilience: Artists Collaborating in Hard Times

Ever noticed how, when the world gets tough, art seems to get even more powerful?  Whether we're talking about economic meltdowns, global conflicts, or health crises, artists often ditch the solo act and team up. Why? To make their voices louder, build incredible communities, capture history in vivid detail, and even spark real social change. It's a paradox: when things are at their worst, creativity doesn't just survive—it absolutely thrives. It’s fierce, resilient, driving. 


When stress and anxiety are through the roof, where do we often find refuge? In stories, in music, in images that help us make sense of the chaos. Art becomes a sanctuary, a place to escape, reflect, and connect. When resources are scarce, artists get supremely inventive. They find new ways to create, new materials to use, and new collaborative models that might never see the light of day in easier times. It's not just about getting by; it's a strategic move to pool limited resources, share the load, and make sure their messages hit home, especially when individual efforts might just get lost in the noise.


Here are some incredible stories of artists banding together when the chips were down.


When the Wallet Feels Empty: The Great Depression's Artistic Boom


Imagine the 1930s in America: the Great Depression. Jobs were scarce, hope was dwindling. In an unprecedented move for the country, the U.S. government stepped in with a game-changer: the Works Progress Administration (WPA) and its Federal Art Project (FAP). Launched in 1935, this wasn't about keeping artists busy; it was about giving them a lifeline. As New Deal administrator Harry Hopkins famously quipped, "Hell, they've got to eat just like other people."  I am personally a little offended by the separation of artists from “other people” by Mr Hopkins, but I digress…it was also about a grand vision: "art for the millions," to help create a more cultured, educated nation.

At its peak, the WPA/FAP employed a staggering 10,000 artists, churning out over 200,000 works—from vibrant murals adorning public buildings to powerful posters. Communal workshops popped up everywhere, turning artists into printmaking pros. Why printmaking? Because you could make tons of copies, perfect for spreading political messages far and wide. Think of Hugo Gellert's striking illustrations for Das Kapital or Elizabeth Olds's poignant Miner Joe. 

But it wasn't just about making art; it was about sharing it. Over 100 community art centers opened their doors, offering free classes and exhibition spaces, truly bringing art to the people. Artists like Jacob Lawrence fondly remembered the incredible sense of community these programs fostered. It was a powerful demonstration of how public investment could transform art from an elite luxury into a public good, accessible to everyone, and deeply engaged with society.

WPA

WPA art, Courtesy Swan Auction Gallery
WPA art, Courtesy Swan Auction Gallery

When the World Explodes: Art in Times of War and Rebellion


When conflicts rage and oppression looms, artists respond and react quickly. They collaborate to document the pain, yes, but also to scream defiance, challenge power, and invent entirely new ways of seeing.

Take the Dada movement, born around 1915, smack in the middle of the Great War. These artists were fed up. They rejected the "reason" and "logic" they believed had led the world into such devastation, embracing instead the wonderfully absurd and irrational. Their collaborations were wild: public gatherings, noisy demonstrations, and journals where art, politics, and culture collided. Dada was "anti-art," designed to shock and provoke. Their embrace of collage—literally cutting and reassembling pieces—was a perfect metaphor for a fragmented society trying to put itself back together after the horrors of war. Dada's rebellious spirit still echoes today in movements like Surrealism, the DIY punk rock ethos, and postmodern art.

During World War I, German artists often used print portfolios—like a visual diary—to depict the war and process their trauma. While we don't have all the details on their exact collaborations, the shared format and themes suggest a collective effort to grapple with a national nightmare. Iconic works by Käthe Kollwitz, Otto Dix, and George Grosz were part of these powerful series. Meanwhile, American artists were busy too, creating everything from pro-war imagery to biting anti-war cartoons, some even serving as official war artists.

But for sheer, heart-stopping bravery, look no further than Lucy Schwob and Suzanne Malherbe (better known as Claude Cahun and Marcel Moore) during World War II. This avant-garde lesbian couple launched an "audacious anti-Nazi resistance campaign" in occupied France. They used their artistic talents to create and distribute "paper bullets"—clandestine messages insulting Hitler and urging rebellion—knowing full well they were risking their lives. Their actions were even more courageous because their "gender-bending work" was exactly the kind of "degenerate art" the Nazis despised. Talk about art as a direct, high-stakes weapon!


When Sickness Spreads: Art as a Healer and a Roar


Pubic health crises, from old pandemics to modern epidemics, have profoundly shaped artists, leading to both deeply personal expressions of suffering and powerful collective efforts for advocacy and support.

Interestingly, the Spanish Flu pandemic of 1918-1919 mostly saw individual artists like Egon Schiele and Edvard Munch grappling with the disease in their personal works. There wasn't much large-scale collaborative art during that time, perhaps because the sheer scale of the pandemic and the euphoria of WWI ending overshadowed collective artistic reflection. Fast forward a century, and a contemporary project, the "Spit Spreads Death" exhibition (2019-2024), did explore the 1918 pandemic collaboratively, even including a commemorative parade with public participation.


Then came the AIDS Epidemic, starting in the 1980s, and it sparked an explosion of organized, collaborative activist art. Artists involved in AIDS activist groups firmly believed that while art couldn't save lives like science, it could absolutely "deliver a message". Gran Fury, an anonymous artistic committee within ACT UP, created incredibly influential media. Their anonymity was a deliberate choice, putting "collective efforts" above individual fame. They were so determined to reach people that they often illegally posted their work on city streets, bypassing censorship to highlight issues like homophobia and discrimination. Was living and working in NYC at that time, a an actorI clearly remember Keith Haring's iconic "Ignorance=Fear/Silence=Death" poster for ACT UP.

One of the most moving collaborative art projects of the AIDS crisis was the AIDS Memorial Quilt, started by Cleve Jones. This monumental work of "craftivism" is made of thousands of individual cloth panels, each a heartfelt tribute to someone lost to AIDS, all sewn together to form a "woven graveyard". It was designed to spark "communal action through emotional impact" and uplift a community under siege. Other artists like Aziz + Cucher and Felix Gonzalez-Torres also created powerful, often participatory, works that blurred the lines between artist, art, and audience. And the fight continues today, with initiatives like Mr. Guerrero's MoVIHlízate in Ecuador, using art and literature to battle stigma and discrimination for young people living with HIV.

The contrast between the Spanish Flu and AIDS artistic responses is stark. The AIDS crisis, deeply "cultural" and targeting "vulnerable social groups,"  ignited outrage and a desperate need for a collective voice. Art became an indispensable tool for public health communication and destigmatization, a powerful way to build solidarity when official channels fell short or even contributed to the problem.

The AIDS Project Quilt in Washington, DC
The AIDS Project Quilt in Washington, DC

Today's World, Tomorrow's Art: Interdisciplinary Super Teams and Global Action


Facing today's complex global challenges—from climate change and forced migration to ongoing social injustices—artistic collaborations have leveled up. They're now incredibly interdisciplinary and globally connected, bringing together all sorts of experts to foster understanding, empathy, and action.

Think of it as a super team-up: art and science joining forces! This "research-creation" approach, championed by folks like Natalie Loveless at the University of Alberta, merges artistic and theoretical identities to tackle big issues like social and climate justice. The goal? To blend different worldviews, help everyone understand complex problems, and create new knowledge that neither art nor science could achieve alone. It's about putting art and science on "equal footing,"  recognizing artists as critical partners, not just commentators. The spirit of exploration is a common factor in both artists and scientists. 

Climate change activism has sparked some truly imaginative collaborations. "The Tempestry Project" is a global initiative where people knit to visualize temperature changes, turning climate science into accessible, community-driven craft. Anonymous collectives like Luzinterruptus create stunning street exhibitions, like "We Are Frying!" in Madrid, to make us think about global warming's impact on nature. Yoko Ono's "Wish Trees" invite us all to contribute our hopes for the planet, fostering a sense of shared responsibility. 

Luzinterruptus We Are Frying
Luzinterruptus We Are Frying

The "DISPLACED: Contemporary Artists Confront the Global Refugee Crisis" exhibition at SITE Santa Fe is another powerful example. It features incredible interdisciplinary responses to human migration, like Harriet Bart and Yu-Wen Wu's Leavings/Belongings, which was created with New Mexico-based immigrants and refugees, directly weaving their lived experiences into the art. Reena Saini Kallat's Woven Chronicle is a massive handwoven world map depicting migration trends using barbed wire and telephone cables—turning cold data into a powerful, sculptural statement. And projects like The Refugee Nation's flag and anthem directly serve a social and political cause for a displaced community.

And let's not forget the Black Lives Matter (BLM) movement, which has masterfully used collaborative art as a tool for social change. BLM Arts+Culture is a dedicated platform, fostering collaborations with artists and designers to amplify the movement's message. Art here is about countering invisibility, shaping public sentiment, and changing narratives, especially for Black artists. Remember the summer of 2020? Murals, photography, and protest signs "screamed" for justice nationwide. From Madison's Montgomery mural, brimming with symbols of hope, to Michelle Browder leading artists in creating a BLM street mural on a former slave auction site, art became a powerful symbol of racial reckoning. Artists like Banksy and Ai Weiwei continue this tradition, using street art and other forms to challenge government corruption and address refugee crises on a global scale. And the Guerrilla Girls, a feminist art collective, use masked performances and posters to hilariously (and pointedly) expose gender and racial inequalities in the art world.


Harriet Bart and Yu-Wen Wu's Leavings_Belongings,
Harriet Bart and Yu-Wen Wu's Leavings_Belongings,

The Unstoppable Beat of Collective Creativity


Through all these diverse periods and challenges, collaborative art consistently shows us a few amazing things: resilience and adaptation (artists always find a way, even with nothing!), social commentary and critique (art as a powerful voice against injustice), community empowerment and connection (art bringing people together when they need it most), and innovation and new forms (tough times breed brilliant new ideas!).

The way artists collaborate has truly evolved. From government-backed programs to grassroots activist collectives, and now to complex interdisciplinary partnerships, art is becoming more autonomous and deeply woven into our social and scientific conversations. When the usual systems fail, artists and communities step up, creating their own support networks and ways to get their art out there.

And here's a beautiful bonus: many of these collaborative art projects become living historical records. The WPA's Index of American Design aimed to "preserve a visual record" of American material culture. The AIDS Memorial Quilt? It's a monumental, ever-growing archive of loss and remembrance, commemorating over 105,000 names to this day. These projects aren't just about the present; they're about creating a collective memory, a tangible legacy for future generations to learn from our struggles and triumphs. Art, it turns out, is a pretty amazing historian.


 Art, Our Expressive, Validating Hero


The bottom line is clear: when times get tough, artists collaborating aren't just a nice-to-have; they're absolutely essential. They give us a voice, help us process trauma, become powerful advocates for change, and build incredible communities. From the government-funded lifelines of the Great Depression to the defiant underground resistance during wartime, and the global activist movements tackling today's biggest challenges, artists consistently tap into collective creativity to confront, critique, and ultimately, transcend adversity.

The journey of these collaborations shows how adaptable and dynamic art truly is. What started as relief programs has blossomed into powerful, self-organized activist collectives, now embracing complex interdisciplinary approaches to tackle our multifaceted global challenges. This trajectory highlights art's growing independence and its increasing integration into broader social and scientific discussions.

As our world faces ever more complex and interconnected challenges—from climate change and forced migration to new forms of social inequality—the role of collaborative and interdisciplinary artistic practices will only become more vital. Future endeavors will undoubtedly keep pushing boundaries, blending new technologies and diverse forms of knowledge, all to foster deeper public engagement, inspire collective action, and help us envision more just and sustainable futures. The human need for connection, meaning, and a good dose of critique is never going away. And neither will the resilient canvas of artistic collaboration, always evolving, always reflecting, and always shaping our shared human experience. 

 
 
 

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