Reimagining Artivism

Re/imagining Artivism
University Press Scholarship Online
Oxford Scholarship Online
Artistic Citizenship: Artistry, Social

Responsibility, and Ethical Praxis
David Elliott, Marissa Silverman, and Wayne Bowman
Print publication date: 2016

Print ISBN-13: 9780199393749
Published to Oxford Scholarship Online: October 2016
DOI: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199393749.001.0001
Rodney Diverlus
DOI:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199393749.003.0010
Abstract and Keywords

This chapter is an introduction, deconstruction, and dissection
of artivism and its manifestations, purpose, and social value. It
begins with the acknowledgment of artists’ role as storytellers,
archiving people’s collective histories. It also references the
disconnect of art in purposely seeking societal change.
Recognizing the need for abstract, personal, form-driven, and
curiosity-driven art, the chapter argues for the universal
application of artivism to the work of art makers. It iterates
the symbiotic relationship between art and activism, its
history, and what that looks like now. The chapter uses these
key sites of investigation in hopes of bridging the links
between theory and practice. It elaborates on art makers as
agents of social change, the role of art for social good, and the
juxtaposition of personal and political art. Additionally, it
proposes the radicalization of arts-based education as a way of
introducing artivism to emerging artists.
Keywords: artivism, art, activism, social change, arts education radicalization
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Edinburgh; date: 14 January 2019
I am a professional dancer, choreographer, creative director,

and performance artist. I am also a community organizer and
grassroots educator. At 14, I started calling myself an artist,
and at 17, an activist, and although these have been my
realities ever since, these two worlds of mine did not formally
interweave until recently, when I was introduced to and
started to identify myself as an “artivist.” My dedication to
artivism1—synonymous with artistic citizenship—grew from
my inability to reconcile what I considered two equal sides of
the work that I do: I create and produce art, and I am
passionate about the community I live in. For much of my life,
these worlds were kept separate. This was both a deliberate
act on my part and due to my inability to find meaningful ways
of syncretizing my time in the studio with that spent in
organizing meetings, rallies, and activist circles. It was not
until recently that I found ways of developing both sides
simultaneously. For me, both states of being are codependent
with each other. My art influences my activism, and my
activism influences my art. Identifying as an artivist and
linking myself with principles of artivism has given me the
“permission” I needed to boldly and unapologetically produce
activist art. My art allows me to craft particular campaigns,
initiatives, and actions in ways that are limitless, refreshing,
and relatable. And my activism allows me to produce art that
is not only socially relevant but also conscious of humanity.
When I realized I was neither one nor the other, but both at
once—an artivist—I really began to dig deeper and find
innovative ways of working in each field. This dual reality is
full of tension and contradictions though—tensions that I will
highlight throughout the chapter, and that often result in
additional questions.
I envision artivism as an educational, creative, choreographic,

movement-building, performance, and organizing tool.
Artivism simultaneously combines all these functions, and in
this chapter, I will introduce, dissect, and problematize
artivism as both a concept and an active social act. This will
include an iteration of the symbiotic relationship between art
and activism, a brief historical snapshot of that relationship,
and what that looks like now. I will explore current (p.190)
subcategories of artivists—culture jammers, street artists,
protest artists, guerilla artists, and so forth—and propose what
new breeds of everyday artivists might look like.
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Investigating artivism requires an analysis of the ways in

which art is taught and how arts-based knowledge is passed
down. I will use, as a case study, my experiences with
education in the United States and Canada, which I will, in
turn, juxtapose with the role of dance education in Haiti, my
native place of birth. In one instance, art education is focused
on technique, while in the other it is focused on art as a means
of understanding society/people.
Additionally, this chapter will work to interrogate and

problematize the role of artists in performing artivism today. Is
artivism a core function of artistry or an addendum? Can one
truly be an artist without engaging in and/or supporting
artivism? While acknowledging that everyone is often on
different spectra of analysis/knowledge both artistically or
politically, I will also make space for a critique of
contemporary artivists—that is, artivists who might be doing
the important work of troubling the hegemony/“mainstream”
but who are failing at “capacity building” and creating
stronger networks of emerging artivists.
To summarize, this chapter will introduce, deconstruct, and

critique artivism and its manifestations, purposes, and social
values; explain the explicit/implicit roles of art makers as
agents of social change and social innovation; explore the role
of art as personal, the political in the personal, and the
personal as political, as well as the ways in which art is
political; look at the de-politicization of art practitioners
through hegemonic arts education curriculum, methods, and
techniques; consider the consequences of the absence of social
analyses and social perspectives on art, and art’s role in
reproducing and maintaining systems of oppression; and
introduce examples of socially conscious and radical arts-
based education as means of remedying the aforementioned.
In this investigation, additional questions arose. These areas of

interest are outside the scope of this chapter, but serve as
further areas for additional research:
• What are the responsibilities, if any, of arts educators to

shift away from an exclusive focus on form/technique to a
dual focus on form and the social roles of the arts and
artists?
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• How can we revamp and radicalize current arts education

systems to further this particular mandate? What are some
specific tools and resources that can be used to further
this?
• What are the responsibilities of artists in visioning,

imagining, and organizing for a more just society?
• How does capacity building and community building

relate to artivism, or artistic citizenship?
• Do artists bear a responsibility to make their craft, their

audiences, and their communities more socially engaged?
• How can additional public engagement in artivism work to

fill social vacuums?
(p.191) Overall, this chapter aims to foster understandings of

and ongoing dialogues about ways in which the arts and
activist communities can fuel each other for support, direction,
and sites of collaboration.
Artivism, Art Making, and Social Justice

Previous to this chapter, I wrote an essay—“Radicalizing
Dance: Confessions of an Artivist”—in the Canadian Center for
Policy Alternatives’ Our Schools, Our Selves (Diverlus, 2013).
In it, I explored the role that artivism plays in dance
education. My aim was to examine artivism as a key pillar of
dance education, as a way of engaging young artists both to be
more socially aware/conscious and to take on the
responsibility of caring for their community. I employed a
working definition of artivism that encapsulates my personal
understanding of the term, both in practice and from a
theoretical framework.
For me, artivism is the understanding that, in the absence of

social consciousness, art cannot reach its full range of
potentials; and without creativity, activism risks being one-
dimensional and irrelevant. Artivism is a response to working
and living in a neoliberal reality, where social issues are very
much intertwined. One simply cannot separate the global
attack on women’s reproductive rights from the infringement
of indigenous treaty rights in Canada/Turtle Island, or the
advancement of American imperialism in the Global South
from the exacerbated rates of homelessness in many cities in
North America and beyond. Yes, these are separate issues, but
they share many of the same root problems, manifestations,
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and potential solutions. From a global perspective, social

justice issues are very much linked, and they influence and
feed each other as a result of everything else being globalized:
economies, political systems, entertainment, and so forth.
Artivism is a bold vision for alternatives, whatever they may

be; it provides a roadmap for finding ways of moving closer
toward a “utopian” reality, but an essential one—call it peace,
equity, justice, or however else one might conceive of this
utopia. Artivism involves introducing audiences to radical and
transformative concepts and visions—that are digestible and
accessible—of and for many world contexts. Artivism works to
resuscitate tired social justice movements in the continued
uphill battle for a socially just world. Artivism is as fluid as it is
fixed, as systemic as it is individualized, as apparently
“simple” as it is complex. I see artivism as a future: a future
full of different possible tactics. To me, artivism is one of the
only methods of organizing resiliency for survival. Indeed, and
dauntingly, I see artivism as our only fighting chance.
In addition to the aforementioned, this chapter aims to move

beyond the simplified definition of artivism as a portmanteau
term of art and activism. This builds on the many who have
already provided rich and nuanced ways of looking at the
term, including the German-based Artivism Network, which
defines artivism as including art that “confronts, interrogates,
or even shrugs off the status quo” (Artivism network, 2012).
According to the network, “Artivism looks (p.192) for
creativity that threatens the conventional wisdom with
progressive ideas” (Artivism network, 2012). One of the most
succinct definitions of artivism is in M. K Asante’s It’s Bigger
Than Hip-Hop: The Rise of the Post-Hip-Hop Generation.
Asante (2009) ties the links between community and political
activism and art making, looking specifically at hip-hop.
According to Asante (2009), “The artivist (artist+activist) uses
her artistic talents to fight and struggle against injustice and
oppression—by any medium necessary. The artivist merges
commitment to freedom and justice with the pen, the lens, the
brush, the voice, the body, and the imagination. The artivist
knows that to make an observation is to have an obligation” (p.
39).
Hip-hop is an apt example of the ways that art and activism

have worked together to influence content. Acknowledging
hip-hop as a form of both art and activism addresses hip-hop
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as both a musical genre and subculture, and acknowledges the

historical roots of the art form. Indeed, hip-hop was born of
the young racial justice movements of the United States. It
existed within a particular socioeconomic and racial reality of
Black (and Latino) youth in the United States. Looking beyond
musical composition and the “technique” of hip-hop, we find
what was, and still is, a powerful tool used by marginalized
young people of color to call for radical transformations of the
communities and realities in which they lived. Hip-hop
emerged from the frustrations of these communities as a bold
vision for an alternate world where state-sanctioned violence,
mass incarceration, police brutality, race-based poverty, and,
more broadly, racism (anti-Black racism specifically) were no
longer realities. This art form was born of a social need—not of
a need for a new artistic milieu/form, but a desire to speak to
and address critical issues facing a particular community/
generation. Therefore, hip-hop is intrinsically linked to a social
movement thirsty for justice. One should not strip the form of
its activist nature and culture, which is at its very foundation.
As with hip-hop, many other art forms that are now seeping
into the mainstream share a strong history rooted in
resistance: jazz, rhythm and blues, pop art, new media, and so
forth.
Thinking of other art forms with strong social justice histories

leads me to the question: Can such activist meanings be
sanitized, or are they implicit in each art form’s newest
manifestations? Even if an artist is unaware of the history of
his or her art form, does the artist inadvertently carry out the
form’s originally intended purposes? In other words, are we
activists without knowing it? Or does activism have to be
intentional to be defined as activism? These are just some of
the questions I grapple with when I think about the ways that
activism is slowly evaporating from artistic communities,
practices, and education.
Artists are humanity’s storytellers. We actively document and

archive our collective experiences and histories. And yet, a
great deal of contemporary storytelling neglects to
acknowledge many social ills and shifting attitudes. How can
socially just art making avoid conversations on issues of race,
gender, sexuality, class, globalization, nationalism, climate
change, militarization, technological warfare, and other local
and geopolitical conflicts? This is not to say that all art must
include an explicit political message; there is (p.193) always
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room for abstractions, as well as miscellaneous, personal,

form- and curiosity-driven art, but if an artist/creator regularly
engages with these social realities, then one could conclude
that such realities would always implicitly influence his or her
work.
For example, I believe that my work inherently embodies a

critical race analysis; in fact, this analysis forms the
undercurrent that runs through everything I do. Regardless of
what I am doing—mundane, everyday tasks such as working,
running errands, or shopping—my doing and, to a larger
extent, my being embody a sensitivity and acknowledgment of
social justice issues. Although not at the forefront of my mind,
and not necessarily the impetus for all my actions, such
analyses run so deep in me that they influence all my social
interactions. All of this leads me to wonder, How can artists
create work that disregards understanding of or compassion
for the society they live in? And even if the work seems to
bypass explicit challenges to social injustices, even if it
appears to be sanitized and devoid of compassion and
critically reflective social analyses, by nature of the artists’
interactions with the real world and real-world issues, their art
implicitly includes these social perspectives. In the absence of
social consciousness/analyses, artists run the risk of reducing
their work to nothing more than form and technique—
technique that exists in a vacuum, void of humanity, and void
of reality. By my interpretation, such work does not warrant
being defined as art.
Can people truly call themselves “artists” without engaging in

and/or supporting artivism? The Artivism Network (2012)
elaborates on this in the second half of its definition of
artivism as being created to “challenge those who reject social
and ecological change as a valid and necessary part of artistic
work and intention” (emphasis added). In addition to
presenting alternatives to norms and hegemony, artivism is
necessary to art making and practice. This is rooted in the
belief that art does not exist in a vacuum; even the most
abstract forms are influenced by and influence the world
around us. This leads me to believe that art and communities
are intertwined, that art making and making the world a
better place are interwoven, and that art and activism are one
and the same.
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Preexisting Artivists: Communities/ Methods/Forms

Although a fairly new term, the practice of artivism has existed
for many generations. There are a number of subcategories of
arts-based activism that are reasonably easy to identify. These
are often forms of resistance that are relatable to the generic
public. Often called “mainstream activism,” they represent
tactics and organizing styles that employ in-your-face, easy-to-
understand, and often comical/satirical methods of delivering
their broader message. This is by no means a definitive list of
arts-based activism. And since I argue that all artists are
potentially artivists, this list is, theoretically, endless. But
these communities/groups/subcategories include artists who
explicitly claim activism as part of their practice.
(p.194) Culture Jammers

This form of artivism responds to what is seen as a global
dependence on consumerism, or capitalism (Culture Jamming,
n.d.). While it could be said that to blame consumerism as a
default evil is a bit of a cliché, its shift to being the global
norm has meant that many, if not all, activist communities
have had to address its pervasiveness in their tactics and
strategies. A by-product of consumerism is individualism,
which results in a greater disconnect of people from politics
and social issues. Culture jammers are anticapitalist in their
approach (Dery, 2010). They identify troubling links between
this economic and political system, fueled by both
individualism and consumerism—a system that prioritizes the
need for individual material wealth over the needs of the
collective. Culture jammers are not attempting to work outside
these systems; instead, they work to spotlight the flaws and
control mechanisms of consumerism to tackle the very issues
that affect communities and people. According to the
University of Washington’s (2014) Center for Communication
and Civic Engagement:
Culture jamming presents a variety of interesting

communication strategies that play with the branded
images and icons of consumer culture to make
consumers aware of surrounding problems and diverse
cultural experiences that warrant their attention. Many
culture jams are simply aimed at exposing questionable
political assumptions behind commercial culture so that
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people can momentarily consider the branded

environment in which they live.
Culture jammers present us with the hidden truths behind

many of the commercial products/ideals that we are “sold”
every day. They “refigure logos, fashion statements, and
product images to challenge the idea of ‘what’s cool,’ along
with assumptions about the personal freedoms of
consumption” (University of Washington, 2014). Culture
jammers force us to question many of these identifiable
brands/products and expose the “true environmental and
human costs of consumption” (University of Washington, 2014,
emphasis added; Klein, 2010).
At its core, culture jams utilize a simple meme as the main

mode of communication. Memes are “condensed images that
stimulate visual, verbal, musical, or behavioral associations
that people can easily imitate and transmit to
others” (University of Washington, 2014, emphasis added).
Culture jams are spoofs in and of themselves. They engage in
“subvertising,” whereby spoofs/parodies are made of/from
corporate attempts at advertising to the public. They take
recognizable cultural and commercial symbols—brands, logos,
companies, slogans, ads, and so forth—and thwart them. They
queerify them to identify their contradictions, harms, and
falsehoods (for examples, see About, 2012). But at the core of
culture jamming is a mandate to expose the broader public to
a particular danger of consumerism/commercialization: for
example, climate change, war/occupation, political corruption,
economic disparity, and corporate greed (Woodside, 2001).
(p.195) One of the most famous culture jammers is

Adbusters (n.d.), a Canadian not-for-profit organization. Its
work includes ecological, political, technological, and
corporate issues. Adbusters was also one of the initiators of
the Occupy Wall Street Movement, which spawned the global
Occupy Movement that organized Buy Nothing Day, TV
Turnoff Week, and Digital Detox Week. Adbusters is
notoriously known for the ways in which it integrates satire
with digital media, new media, and other contemporary art
forms. Its work is digestible for the average person and
utilizes accessible forms of media-based art to communicate
its messaging. Simply put, Adbusters takes pieces of culture
that seem problematic and depicts them in culturally relevant/
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dominant forms of art—video-based, digitally based, and

interdisciplinary art forms. Other examples of culture jammers
are the Yes Men, Millionaires for Bush, and Anonymous.
Arts “Vandalism”
I use the term vandalism with some reservation. I refer to it
not to connote any personal negative moral opinions, but to
acknowledge the ways that this form of art is defined
societally and legally (which are often in conflict with my
personal perspectives on ownership of space, or lack thereof).
“Vandalism” is described as anything that “destroys” property
or changes it from its original state not approved by the
property’s owner/maker. But in this discussion of artivism, I
use the term vandalism to describe a way of working outside
and beyond pre-established frameworks from which art can
and should be created/consumed, to identify a method of
artistic independence and defiance, and to denote a form of
resistance.
From this viewpoint, arts vandalism includes an array of arts-

based (mostly public) works: graffiti, purposeful sign
changing/defacement, guerilla art, or street art (which may or
may not include graffiti). Notwithstanding what the actual
artistic message of the art piece is, the act of deliberately
taking over public/private space is, in and of itself, resistance.
The most recognizable form of arts vandalism is street art,

whereby an artist makes his or her messaging clearly visible to
the general public. This art is reclamation of the spaces that
we regularly interact with: streets, walls, alleys, building
facings, highways, and so forth. Street art, as with all arts
vandalism, often addresses universal issues that are relatable
to the diverse audiences that might observe them—“universal”
in terms of both what they address and what can remain
relatable as time goes by.
The power of arts vandalism lies in its unsanctioned nature. Its

illicitness already makes it a form of resistance, because the
artist is refusing to conform to the rigid ways that “others”
have set out to force the public to view and take in art. In
addition, many of these street artists use their art to send
messages about social issues that might be affecting a specific
community or society as a whole.
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(p.196) This art form is often used by antiwar, anarchist,

punk, feminist, countercultural, and anticonsumerist artistic
communities, as well as antiracist, anticolonialist, and anti-
imperialist movements. These communities and movements
tackle a wide range of issues, including, but not limited to,
local and global poverty, immigration, war, occupation,
violence, and policing. Famous street “vandals” include
Banksy, Above, King Robbo, and hundreds of others.
Puppetry
Puppetry began in 17th-century England, in and around the
period of the English Civil War (Steven, 2006). At the time,
governments were silencing artists and censoring art—
starting with theaters—in fear of their ability to ignite the
masses. Puppetry was seen as a way around those bans. The
first puppets were subversive and comic characters that were
above the law and poked fun at the absurdity of the rulers of
the time. Puppets also appeared in 18th-century France and,
subsequently, in other regions across Europe (e.g., Clark,
1973).2
As with many subversive art forms, puppetry was not well

received by governments. Laws were enacted to stop its use.
According to the libcom.org group:
From its beginnings, radical puppetry was treated as a

criminal act. Both England and France enacted
repressive laws against puppeteers, refusing to even
license them like other performers and trades people.
Being itinerant, puppeteers were regarded with
suspicion and accused of not only participating in crime,
but of perpetuating it by attracting crowds of poverty-
stricken individuals to respectable places of business.3
Even with these stringent laws in place, many puppeteers

continued to use their puppets to raise awareness of the issues
people were agitated about. This continued for generations,
but puppetry was reignited with the introduction of the Bread
& Puppet Theater in the United States, which was founded in
1963 in New York. This puppetry company grew out of the
anti–Vietnam War movements, which utilized the puppet as a
way of fueling opposition to the war. They are credited as the
ones responsible for bringing giant puppets into the North
American protest culture. Through its use in resistance
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movements, puppetry allowed people to exaggerate their

voices and create visual expressions for the many issues that
activists and protesters were challenging.
Protest/Resistance Art
All the aforementioned art forms can be used as tools of public
protest, and protest art can include other art forms as well.
These art forms are often produced within the social moments
themselves and explicitly tied to activist groups/individuals.
For example, protest art created explicitly for use in acts (p.
197) of civil disobedience includes signs, banners, large
displays, political posters, peace symbols, and other printed
and digital materials. Additionally, protest art is accessible to
non–arts practitioners because it is invariably easy to produce
and, therefore, is effective in engaging the average citizen in
its creation. Additional forms of protest art include flash mobs,
site-specific installations, protest songs, and chants. Overall,
protest art tends to be interdisciplinary, with a focus on
messaging rather than form/technical mastery, and, because
public protests aim to have a widespread impact, protest art
forms are oftentimes communally participatory acts.
Protest art also includes (but is not limited to) performance-

based, site-specific installations, graffiti and street art, and
boundary-crossing art genres, media, and disciplines. Protest
art has been key in many social movements, both locally and
internationally: the antiapartheid movement in South Africa,
antiwar movements (anti–Vietnam War movement),
antiglobalization movements (anti-G20/G8 protests, the Seattle
world trade organization protest, the free trade agreement
protests), many student-led movements (2012 Quebec student
strike, 2011 Chile student protests), the labor movement (May
Day demos globally), and antiausterity movements (Occupy
Wall Street).
Performance/Guerilla Theater
This type of artivism includes the use of spoken text, dance,
movement, mobs, impromptu performances (flash mob), or
other multidisciplinary art forms. Performance/guerilla theater
is usually in-your-face and unsanctioned (or loosely
sanctioned), and it utilizes human bodies as the art medium.
Although this form of activism has existed in countless

civilizations and time periods, the term guerilla theater was
first coined in 1965 by R. G. Davis. Collaborating with the
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Bread & Puppet Theater, artists blended political street

theater and public spectacle to draw attention to issues of
class and economic inequality (Brecht, 1988). Nobel Prize
winner Dario Fo also played a part in its creation. He left
mainstream theater claiming that he could “no longer be a
jester for the bourgeoisie” (Blume, n.d.). According to visual
and performing artist K. Ruby Blume (n.d.), “Fo helped found a
theatrical organization dedicated to the proletarian revolution,
bringing theater to the people in factories, stadiums, villages,
and school dorms. He believed that theatre was the only
means of freeing people from the tyranny of corporate mass
media and sought a bloodless revolution of the proletariat.”
Guerilla theater helped to bring this art form back to the
people, in hopes of being able to address income inequality
and other social issues.
Another example of a performance arts/guerilla theater–based

group is the Praxis Group from Minneapolis, Minnesota
(Troyer, 1998). It creates site-specific, unsanctioned, and
unsolicited works. According to its mission statement, while
using the particular rules established by a specific

institution as well as incorporating the architectural site,
the Praxis Group creates situations which (p.198)
challenge the various apparatuses of control within an
institution… . By subverting the cultural and
representational practices of specific locations, the
Praxis Group represents a paradoxical threat—the
conflict created when a large group of individuals
systematically challenges the doctrine of a singular
space, by following the established rules. (Praxis group,
n.d.)
Charity Art
I define any art in which the proceeds/benefits—whether in
part or full—are earmarked for a charitable cause as charity
art. This is probably the most recognizable form of artivism.
Some examples of charity art include creating pieces of art for
charity auctions/sale, donating proceeds from a show/exhibit/
piece, and engaging in international humanitarian causes and
involving marginalized and impoverished communities in
creating art (Gleason, 2010). However, these methods of
artivism are highly contested, and they can do more harm than
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good (e.g., Mahdavi, 2014; Addams, 1999). I will elaborate on

this later in the chapter.
Other Forms of Artivism

Many art forms boast active and engaged artivist
communities. These art forms were created out of needs
people felt to resist forms of oppression (see, for example, Art
between the wars, n.d.; Albright, 1998). Seeping into people’s
histories and current realities, each of these forms, genres,
and subgenres also holds complex histories of artivists and
social justice mandates. These art forms include spoken word,
fake folk, hactivism, impostors, pranks, zines, new media, site-
specific digital installations, occupations, chants, virtual
reality, voguing/whacking, drag, diaspora literature/theater,
theater of the oppressed, feminist art, physically integrated
dance, forum theater, hip-hop, jazz, blues, rhythm and blues,
modern dance, contemporary dance, capoeira, and
breakdancing. As evident by this list, the artivist presence
within art making is endless. Further investigation of each will
produce a number of great resources and educational tools.
Go wild.
Broadening the Scope

While exploring what is usually considered artivism—which, as
explained, is usually defined by various types of arts-based
activism that are established by communities, organizations,
or movements—it became apparent to me that many were
limited in scope. There seemed to be a trend in the issues that
artivists dealt with. Many artivists focused their work on
anticapitalist, anticonsumerist, antiglobalization, antiwar, and
ecological/environmental issues. Notwithstanding some
exceptions, the majority of organized groups, artivists’ (p.
199) movements, and high-profile, self-identified artivists
tended to focus on the aforementioned topics. Unfortunately,
this means that one’s perception of who may or may not be
considered an artivist is limited in scope.
All of these issues are important. But for the most part, many
are not accessible to the average person, by which I mean that
the average person probably would not be able to articulate
antiglobalization politics, for example. Not all artists will
connect with or be sufficiently passionate enough about the
previously discussed issues that they will be motivated to
infuse these issues in their work. This might explain why most
artists will not automatically identify as artivists. But the
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reality is that artivism allows us to delve into much more

nuanced social issues that are also local and personal. Artists
doing work on issues related to identity politics; queer, trans,
gender-bending, women, and gender issues; and race, culture,
migration, racism, diaspora, mental health, HIV/AIDS, poverty,
violence, familial issues, and a wide range of other social
issues are engaging in activism. Thus, they are also artivists.
Artivism maintains an open umbrella under which artists can

engage with their work. Creating a personal art exhibit or a
show documenting one’s family history with depression,
violence, or illness is artivism. Creating portraits of individuals
and communities, and capturing the human experience/story,
is artivism. Creating “light” art, meant to uplift, is artivism.
Comedy, and its attempts at healing communities/people, is
artivism. Again, artists are agents of social change,
highlighting injustices, proposing alternatives, and helping
people envision their own utopias. All of this is artivism!
Given that there is such a broad umbrella definition of

artivism, why is there such a disconnect between those who
self-identify as artivists and those who do not (artists who
might actively engage in artivism but choose not to self-
identify as such)? Maybe it is because of the perceived radical
and often illicit nature of the work of famous artivists like
Banksy. Maybe it is a fear that “radical” work alienates
audiences. Or maybe it is because there is a failure to
understand the deeper impact of artists’ work on people and
communities. Broadening the understood scope of artivism
allows for more artists to see themselves and their work
reflected in the definition, which would therefore lead to more
self-identified artivists.
Artivism does not necessarily have to have an explicit mission

to change the world or find world peace. Many artivist
“missions” are implicit/assumed. But as artists, we have a
responsibility to document reality and offer our visions for a
more utopian world. These visions are articulated through our
work and, in their own right, are artivism.
Art for the Public Good

To understand and accept both the explicit and implicit roles
of art makers as agents of social change and as artivists, it is
worth noting the importance of art (p.200) for the public
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good (About, 2013). Understanding the importance of art for

the public good is key to accepting artists’ role in fighting for
our communities.
The global project of neoliberalism functions by reverting

society to the private sphere. This includes decreasing
people’s reliance on other people and communities. As such,
the function of art is often perceived simply to provide private
pleasure for individual citizens. But true art plays a dual role.
Yes, art provides us with individual pleasure, but more
importantly, it plays a much broader role in advancing
civilizations. This is the main argument in support of publicly
funding art. As a society, we have decided to use our collective
resources (tax pool) to fund artists to create art because of the
important social role of such art. As a result, artists have a
responsibility to the public that sustains us.
Art is an integral part of an active and healthy society. There is

a large body of research that verifies the role of the arts in
providing many tangible societal benefits: health, economic,
interpersonal, mental health and well-being, and others.
According to the report Artful Living: Examining the
Relationship Between Artistic Practice and Subjective
Wellbeing Across Three National Surveys, there is “strong
support that artistic practice is associated with higher levels of
life satisfaction, a more positive self image, less anxiety about
change, a more tolerant and open approach to diverse others,
and, in some cases, less focus on materialistic values and the
acquisition of goods” (Tepper, 2014). A 2013 British report,
Museums and Happiness: The Value of Participating in
Museums and the Arts, found that visiting museums and
participating in arts had a direct positive impact on mental
well-being and one’s health (Fujiwara, 2013). A 2014 report by
the Toronto Arts Foundation found that 71% of Torontonians
feel that the arts greatly improve their quality of life (Stolk,
2013). Additionally, “8 major indicators of health and well-
being (including physical health, mental health, stress level,
and overall satisfaction with life) are strongly connected to
attending, or participating in, cultural activities” (Stolk, 2013,
p. 10). In the 2013 report The Arts and Individual Well-Being
in Canada, findings indicate that even the simplest
engagement with the arts (just attendance) has positive
benefits to health, mental health, volunteerism, and
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satisfaction of life (Hill, 2013; Making a holistic case for the

arts, 2014).
The qualitative and quantitative benefits of the arts all validate

art’s importance to public life and the acceptance of art as a
public good. If we as artists strip art of its public roles, we are
further contributing to the privatization agenda, a direct
consequence of neoliberalism. Additionally, removing the
social benefits of the arts further undervalues the broader
purposes and societal necessity of art makers and art
producers (see, for example, Carnwath & Brown, 2014).
The latter part of Asante’s definition of artivism is what strikes

me as the most important to consider: “The artivist knows that
to make an observation is to have an obligation” (p. 203).
Artists have an obligation to the personal and political, the
political in the personal, and the personal as political.
(p.201) Challenges to Artivism

De-politicization/Commercialization
The de-politicization and commercialization of art is a
phenomenon directly linked to the erosion of art’s role as a
public good. It is a by-product of neoliberalism that ultimately
results in reduced support from the public for art makers/
producers. This has meant that arts-based education
programs, community organizations, and arts companies are
relying more and more on private and corporate financing to
survive. Whether it is the slow privatization of postsecondary
programs, or organizations that now rely solely on a high level
of fundraising, it seems that artists are now asking for money
more often than they are creating, performing, and learning.
This slow shift has meant that the arts are now seen less as a
public good and more as a sellable and commercialized
product for our consumption. While I think it is important to
be producing work that speaks to individual communities,
curiosity-driven artistic exploration is still key to the work that
we do. Curiosity is what leads us to question the state of our
communities, our societies, and our global community. These
questions are what lead to visionary demands and art that
aims to change our current realities. These questions are
crucial to the practice of artivism. We must experiment with
many different versions of our work before landing on a final
product. But sadly, this kind of exploration is no longer the
focus. In today’s reality, one has to be composing,
choreographing, directing, writing, or painting something that
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can be packaged neatly and commercialized, whether or not it

is profound and transformative. Equally important, there is
increased focus for results-based explorations to secure
funding. One must stipulate the result of a process in full
before it is realized, which is often at odds with the creative
process.
This increased reliance on private funding and support for the

arts produces a cycle of mere survival. For example, I recently
had a conversation with a friend and colleague who runs a
small dance company. His company has been successful in
receiving some government and private donor grants. As he
has grown his company, he has had to reflect on his mission,
the work that he produces, and ways in which it can appeal to
a broader community. Reflecting on ways to appeal to a
broader audience as an artist is laudable, but in his opinion,
this can only be done by altering and diluting his
choreographic material. He worries that the issues that he
addresses in his work are deemed too controversial/political/
one-sided. Many art makers that I know must grapple with the
fine balance of artistic freedom/integrity and the need to be
producing sellable art. This balance is hard to strike, of
course, because there are often bills to pay and lives to live. As
an artist, it becomes difficult to, let’s say, create a work
regarding poverty and gentrification in one’s community when
the biggest funders of artistic projects in one’s community
might be the very companies whose economic practices create
class divisions (relatedly, see Hill, 2008). This leads to self-
censoring by creators themselves.
(p.202) Commercialization requires that art be de-

politicized; as such, it actively works to ensure its de-
politicization by compromising the idea of artistry as a civic
virtue, as citizenship. Art, then, just becomes a good, meant
simply to be sold and traded, like all other goods.
Activism requires a certain level of risk. Activists face a great

deal of resistance and criticisms of their work, and this is also
true for artivists. This means artists must always grapple with
the tensions between addressing the issues that matter to
them and maintaining a strong donor base. This is not to deny
the roles that individuals, companies, or foundations play in
supporting and engaging with communities, but there is a fine
line to be drawn, and artistic organizations, collectives, and
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agencies must endeavor to divorce themselves as much as

possible from the strengthening pressure on private entities.
As artists, we are in great danger of removing the artivism in

our work by self-censoring and watering down our content.
Too many of us are stressed by the need to appeal to all, or the
fear of “having an agenda,” or being seen as too “one-sided.”
Taking principled stances on social issues follows a long legacy
of socially active and engaged arts communities. Infusing
social justice and activism within arts practices is directly
linked to the repoliticization of art. We must continue to center
our art within a framework of resistance.
Art That Reproduces Systems of Oppression

As much as I romanticize artists as beacons of social justice, I
cannot deny that some art is offensive, oppressive, and violent.
A major challenge to artivism occurs when artists use art as a
means of reproducing oppression. This is often done when art
is created in that vacuum mentioned earlier. Art that is created
without the conscious thought of community, and the ways in
which community is adequately reflected/portrayed, runs the
risk of being offensive. Absent of social analysis or
consciousness, art can play a role in reproducing and
maintaining systems of whiteness, patriarchy,
heteronormativity, cisnormativity, ableism, classism, and
colonialism, and other systems of oppression. Examples
include some forms of comedy or blackface. Art may also be
used by governments/artists to further hateful propaganda
(e.g., pro-Nazism art propagated by Nazi Germany).
As well, artists from the margins can also create art that is
oppressive. For example, many drag artists have been accused
of racist and sexist behaviors (Mosher, 2013; Collymore,
2013). An entire blog, hellnoracistdrag.tumblr.com, is
dedicated to archiving and documenting examples. It
chronicles many instances, but one that stands out is a Toronto
drag performer who performed a set as African American TV
psychic Miss Cleo in blackface. The community became angry
(rightfully so), and the performer was removed as a Pride
performer. What was interesting about the incident was the
social media debate that ensued over it. My Facebook
newsfeed was filled with statuses from people upset over the
performance and others defending this as art.
Page 19 of 30
(p.203) When asked about the racist ramifications of her

performance, the drag artist responded, “I asked a couple
people if it was offensive because it’s not blackface in my eyes.
I went to theatre school. I know what blackface is. It was not a
minstrel show. I was doing a character” (Brathwaithe, 2013).
In this instance, and others like it, artists who are members of
oppressed groups themselves fail to acknowledge the impacts
that their art has on other communities. This demonstrates a
lack of intersectional analysis, and it reflects a reality that
exists in some artistic communities. When challenged on work
that is deemed offensive by certain communities, artists often
revert to the freedom to produce art as a way of excusing what
can be potentially violent pieces. The belief that art can never
be oppressive is pervasive, and “artistic license/freedom” is
often used as a shield to excuse problematic art.
Creating vibrant and inclusive artivist communities means

holding artists accountable. Oppression has no place in art,
and oppressive art should not be accepted as art. Art that is
oppressive neither affirms, supports, nor advocates for any
community or groups of people. Period.
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Artivism Reduced to Charity Art

One of the primary issues with charity art is that it puts the
onus solely on the individual (Stanhope, 2013; Rowlands, n.d.).
It tells us that it is through the generosity of individual
benefactors that we can make the difference, but it deprives
us of acknowledging our collective and societal responsibilities
in supporting people (through public policy, collective decision
making and action, etc.). It is the cyclical “individual versus
collective” argument. Which of the two is more effective in
solving issues like poverty, hunger, and conflict? The individual
or collective? Of course, the answer is both. After all, the
collective is a group of individuals. But once again, this debate
refers back to neoliberalism, a project that aims to make us
think and act as individuals serving our own interests and not
the collective public good.
The reality is that charities are unable to create the systemic

and transformative changes that communities need. They
hierarchize and arbitrarily dictate which communities deserve
support the most, who will get help, and how. A small number
of hands are able to decide where this change is made. Also,
charity work tends to be one-sided: An artist creates a piece of
art, sells it, and then gives the money to charity. This rarely
includes the community-wide engagement and collaborative
nature of artivist art forms, such as protest art (Art cries out,
n.d.).
Charity art also contributes to a phenomenon called

neocolonialism (referring to Westerners’ continued
fascination/infringement on the Global South). So charities are
often part of a broader project aimed at continuing to have a
presence in countries where Western exploitation is already
high. This means making sure Westerners remain part of the
crafting of economic policy, education, culture, and so forth.
This also means creating a culture of reliance, where (p.204)
countries and communities lack the right to self-determination
and become reliant on the systems that we put in place (often
nonconsensually).
Charity art targets symptoms, not root causes. It provides

Band-Aids for gaping wounds that require extensive proactive
work. A piece of art sold might help a family have food for the
month, but it does little to raise awareness about, say, the US/
Canadian economic policies that placed that family, and
millions more, in that situation. Charity art contributes to a
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culture where individual donations and help become an

alternative to systemic changes. Charity art offers quick fixes
and short-term solutions without long-lasting effects.
Charity art contributes to a culture where those (individuals/

corporations) who are contributing to the oppression can
alleviate their guilt and save face by donating a buck or two.
Peter Buffett, Warren Buffett’s son, articulates this in “The
Charitable-Industrial Complex”: “Inside any important
philanthropy meeting, you witness heads of state meeting with
investment managers and corporate leaders. All are searching
for answers with their right hand to problems that others in
the room have created with their left” (Buffett, 2013). He goes
on to describe the sheer size of the charitable-industrial
complex in the United States and the ways that philanthropy is
becoming the driving force for those who benefit from other
people’s oppression:
As more lives and communities are destroyed by the

system that creates vast amounts of wealth for the few,
the more heroic it sounds to “give back.” It’s what I
would call “conscience laundering”—feeling better about
accumulating more than any one person could possibly
need to live on by sprinkling a little around as an act of
charity. (Buffett, 2013)
This does not mean that all charity art is bad. There are many
local, grassroots organizations that exist just to provide free
and accessible art supplies/education to people. These
organizations are focused on engaging people in and exposing
people to art, as opposed to solving complex socioeconomic
issues by donating money. There is also a debate about
whether or not we should forgo helping individual people
while waiting for a far-away utopia, and the notion that any
little bit helps. While there are truths in these points, it’s the
combination of both that is required.
Artivism and Privilege

Without a doubt, it is a privilege to be an artivist. But not all
artivist voices are celebrated. There are certain voices that are
validated and others dismissed, some identities are given
permission to rebel while others are restrained to outdated
norms/beliefs, and some artivists have the financial freedom to
take bigger risks. It is important to acknowledge that not all
voices are held to the same regard, and holding identity
Page 22 of 30
markers that are deemed powerful and (p.205) privileged in

our communities—maleness, whiteness, able-bodied,
heterosexuality, gender conformity, and so on—allows greater
access for some over others.
There are risks involved with engaging in artivism though: less

income/ revenue as an artist, political persecution, and heavy
criticism. But not all risks are felt equally. Being in a position
of privilege or affiliating oneself with a privileged community
allows for greater flexibility to navigate the aforementioned
risks. There are a number of categories of people who would
not be able to take on the risks associated. For example, a
nonstatus or refugee claimant does not have the privilege of
being overly vocal/critical of government policy. Cash-poor,
low-income, no-income, or street-involved artists might not
have as much of an opportunity to get involved with activist
organizations and actions. People in the economic margins
also have to prioritize revenue-generating art as a means of
survival. Acknowledging these privileges is helpful in
envisioning ways of creating more inclusive artivist
communities/organizations.
Page 23 of 30
Education
The last major challenge to artivism starts at the making of
artists: their education. In Our Schools, Our Selves, I proposed
radicalizing our arts-based education as a way of creating
more informed, aware, and agitated artists (Diverlus, 2013).
When I speak of education, I am addressing both the formal
and informal ways that education is carried out—arts schools/
institutions/programs, mentorship, apprenticeships, and so on.
I think about the ways that I was dissuaded from getting

involved in outside activities as a dance student. I once had a
dance teacher tell me that by distracting myself with non-
dance-related activities, I ran the risk of being “a jack of all
trades but a master of none.” At the time, I was juggling full-
time dancing as a student and working for a community
activist organization. I simply could not choose between them,
and I articulated that to her. She assured me that this was the
time for me to be training and I would have a lot of time to do
the other “stuff” after I retired as a dancer. She even gave me
a book, The Talent Code, which reinforced over and over again
that to be great at something, one has to devote all of his or
her time and attention to it—the tired and simply ridiculous
“10,000 hours of practice/have no life or friends” formula
(Coyle, 2009). I knew that that was not for me. I could not just
dance. I needed to be engaged with my community, which then
influenced my dance.
In contrast, I reflect on the role that the arts play in my native

Haiti. As a country plagued with so many social issues, music
and dance are becoming a source of liberation for the people. I
reflect on Ayikodans, Haiti’s national dance company, whose
works are world renowned for the ways in which they
challenge us to look at the deepest parts of being human.
Ayikodans is a company that shares the responsibility of
addressing the issues that affect the community and country
from which it comes. It possesses an educational framework
focused, first, on (p.206) building a human who is full of
compassion, understanding, and passion, and therefore
building the artist (Saintus, n.d.).
I reflect on the juxtaposition of the two pedagogical

experiences. In one instance, arts education focused more on
technique, reproduction of style, and “mastering” qualities and
technical elements; the other is more focused on dance as a
means of survival—dance as a social agitation method, dance
Page 24 of 30
as a social necessity. The latter conception asks students to

question art’s broader purpose: Why create art? What is there
to say? Why now?
I reflect on the ways in which student artists are now passed

through a training machine that introduces them to technique,
teaches them how to obey orders, and throws them out into
the real world. It was my introduction to the student
movement that gave me the space and tools to actively
question, complicate, and agitate. Radicalizing arts education
starts with the acknowledgment that artists are activists. Our
role is not to simply perform/create, but also to work actively
to restructure our common human experience and our
understandings of society and community.
Artivism Reimagined
Artists see, witness, document, tell, retell, and recall all that is
human. Artists bear witness to the beauty of humanity, but
also to its ugliness. This is not a romanticized understanding
of artists, but a reality of a core function of art and art making.
It can be said that artists, as empathetic human beings, work
to ameliorate the world’s issues. From the individualized to
the institutionalized, from depression to war and occupation,
from poverty to abuse, artists take it all in and work to
transform situations positively. Art gives us a vision of what
our world should be; activism gives us a toolbox to craft that
ideal world.
Therefore, I view being an artist and activist as the same:

artists are activists, and activists are artists who are artistic
citizens. I propose these 10 steps to foster artivism. A
community that fosters artivism is one that
1. provides free and accessible arts education to all—

free arts-based programming in every primary/
secondary school, accessible after-school programs,
and publicly funded arts studios that can be accessed
by anyone, regardless of income/class background; it
starts with access;
2. provides a healing space where personal baggage is
welcomed and where artists can use their art to
highlight personal/interpersonal/community/societal/
global issues;
Page 25 of 30
3. creates an active and ongoing space for discussion,

debate, and discourse around local and global issues;
4. commits to the mentorship and capacity building of
emerging artivists;
5. acknowledges that everyone has a different starting
point and meets people where they are;
6. provides artivists with all the tools they need;
(p.207) 7. acknowledges that everyone is an artist and
that art should be for everyone;
8. fosters and supports interests from artists about the
world around them and the community they exist in;
9. acknowledges art as a public good; and
10. acknowledges that artivism requires a commitment
to work for change.
Artivism is nuanced and subtle. Artivism is bold and radical.

Artivism is liberating. Artivism is justice. Artivism is creative
justice. Indeed, artivism is our only fighting chance.
Notes
(1.) I did not coin this term. In this chapter, I do give some
account of its usage. However, its original usage in scholarship
is still unknown. See, also, Artivism Network, 2012.
(2.) I had difficulty finding non-Eurocentric research that

chronicled the use of puppets in the Global South and
indigenous communities. Like most things, I can only assume
that they did exist. In fact, they probably were taken and
appropriated. But that’s just my nonfactual opinion.
(3.) Please see libcom.org (2006).
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Woodside, S. (2001). Every joke is a tiny revolution. Culture

jamming and the role of humour. Amsterdam, The
Netherlands: Universiteit van amsterdam. (p.210)
Notes:
(1.) I did not coin this term. In this chapter, I do give some
account of its usage. However, its original usage in scholarship
is still unknown. See, also, Artivism Network, 2012.
(2.) I had difficulty finding non-Eurocentric research that

chronicled the use of puppets in the Global South and
indigenous communities. Like most things, I can only assume
that they did exist. In fact, they probably were taken and
appropriated. But that’s just my nonfactual opinion.
(3.) Please see libcom.org (2006).
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Re/imagining Artivism

University Press Scholarship Online

Oxford Scholarship Online

Artistic Citizenship: Artistry, Social

Print publication date: 2016

Abstract and Keywords

Keywords: artivism, art, activism, social change, arts education radicalization

I am a professional dancer, choreographer, creative director,

I envision artivism as an educational, creative, choreographic,

Investigating artivism requires an analysis of the ways in

Additionally, this chapter will work to interrogate and

To summarize, this chapter will introduce, deconstruct, and

In this investigation, additional questions arose. These areas of

• What are the responsibilities, if any, of arts educators to

• How can we revamp and radicalize current arts education

• What are the responsibilities of artists in visioning,

• How does capacity building and community building

• Do artists bear a responsibility to make their craft, their

• How can additional public engagement in artivism work to

(p.191) Overall, this chapter aims to foster understandings of

Artivism, Art Making, and Social Justice

For me, artivism is the understanding that, in the absence of

and potential solutions. From a global perspective, social

Artivism is a bold vision for alternatives, whatever they may

In addition to the aforementioned, this chapter aims to move

Hip-hop is an apt example of the ways that art and activism

as both a musical genre and subculture, and acknowledges the

Thinking of other art forms with strong social justice histories

Artists are humanity’s storytellers. We actively document and

room for abstractions, as well as miscellaneous, personal,

For example, I believe that my work inherently embodies a

Can people truly call themselves “artists” without engaging in

Preexisting Artivists: Communities/ Methods/Forms

(p.194) Culture Jammers

Culture jamming presents a variety of interesting

people can momentarily consider the branded

Culture jammers present us with the hidden truths behind

At its core, culture jams utilize a simple meme as the main

(p.195) One of the most famous culture jammers is

dominant forms of art—video-based, digitally based, and

From this viewpoint, arts vandalism includes an array of arts-

The most recognizable form of arts vandalism is street art,

The power of arts vandalism lies in its unsanctioned nature. Its

(p.196) This art form is often used by antiwar, anarchist,

As with many subversive art forms, puppetry was not well

From its beginnings, radical puppetry was treated as a

Even with these stringent laws in place, many puppeteers

movements, puppetry allowed people to exaggerate their

Protest art also includes (but is not limited to) performance-

Although this form of activism has existed in countless

Bread & Puppet Theater, artists blended political street

Another example of a performance arts/guerilla theater–based

using the particular rules established by a specific

good (e.g., Mahdavi, 2014; Addams, 1999). I will elaborate on

Other Forms of Artivism

Broadening the Scope

reality is that artivism allows us to delve into much more

Artivism maintains an open umbrella under which artists can

Given that there is such a broad umbrella definition of

Artivism does not necessarily have to have an explicit mission

Art for the Public Good

good (About, 2013). Understanding the importance of art for

The global project of neoliberalism functions by reverting

Art is an integral part of an active and healthy society. There is