Wherever I live, I hang the same dog-eared photo on my fridge. It’s of my godfather, Robin, a picture of him on an elephant during one of his trips home to Sri Lanka. He sent it to me along with a congratulations card, a commemoration for starting the gallery and wishing me luck on my new endeavor.
I have a ginormous family. Have you seen the part in My Big Fat Greek Wedding where the main character talks about her twenty-seven first cousins like it’s some big joke of a number? That’s us! My father was one of nine kids, and I have so many cousins and aunties and uncles it’s almost hard to keep track. While some are scattered all over the globe, the overwhelming majority live in Southern California.
Starting a new project so far away from your primary support network has pros and cons—mostly cons. For starters, the base that a young organization depends on—that familial network— is all but gone. Especially in immigrant families like my own, there’s a huge loyalty to each other. Though I was excited to begin this adventure, doing so without that wonderful support of my loudly and obnoxiously wonderful family was a challenge.
Even with the distance, my family tried to be as supportive as they could from afar. For example, my mom was one of our very first donors after we received our 501(c)(3) status. My cousin Christopher came to visit the gallery when he was in Minnesota for a business trip. My Aunt Fay purchased raffle tickets for an event she couldn’t even attend! But long-distance support isn’t quite the same as in-person connection, and oftentimes I wondered how different things might have been if I had opened the gallery in Southern California. Altered Esthetics could definitely have served a need.
At least I wasn’t starting from scratch entirely. I had made a few wonderful friends in Minneapolis, and the endeavor wouldn’t have been possible without their encouragement. The byproduct of that was that many of the friends I made at Altered Esthetics were more than just acquaintances. It’s not a coincidence that a lot of my closest friends were folks that were not from Minnesota but were other transplants looking for a support network: family by choice.
If you are starting a new venture and have no support network of any kind, it’s critical to build one. I think in the absence of kin, perhaps even in addition, family can be whatever you define it to be.
Fortunately I wound up with a wonderful opportunity to bring some of my distant family to Minneapolis: a wedding! As Altered Esthetics grew and matured, so did my relationship with Nick. We were engaged and wed in 2011, and where else to celebrate but a place that held so much meaning: the Q.arma Building. We hosted an outdoor wedding in the parking lot adjacent to the gallery space, most often used for construction, painting, and the occasional artist barbecue. We dressed up this industrial spot with hanging lights, tables with pumpkins carved out to hold flowers, and—of course—Peace Coffee served for guests! The wedding was full of Northeast elements, tokens from the neighborhood we love. The morning of our wedding we went to pick out flowers from the Northeast Farmers Market to fill the pumpkins, Chowgirls Killer Catering provided the food in the evening, and we had Grain Belt Nordeast beer available as well, one of the local homage crafts.
The guests included many from my California family, my wicked awesome cousin Ed from Massachusetts, and so many of my artist friends from the gallery. Our dear friend Molly Maher, a local musician whose band the Disbelievers played often locally (including at gallery openings and receptions),
became ordained so she could officiate our wedding. One of our gifts was from Ken and Roberta Avidor, a family couple that we had grown close with over the years. They hand-bound a book of drawings from the wedding weekend for us, full of illustrations and moments from the event. This handmade masterpiece was not only the most wonderful gift, it was a perfect way to capture the wedding and everything it commemorated: creativity, community, family, love.
This post is adapted from It’s Never Going To Work: A Tale of Art and Nonprofits in the Minneapolis Community. The book includes illustrations by Athena Currier. ©2019 Jamie Schumacher.
It’s Never Going To Work is a light-hearted, illustrated book that offers real-life insights on founding a community space and nonprofit. It provides tools, tips, resources, and camaraderie to community organizers and anybody attempting something new.