“You can have a full time job and enough money to pay all bills, but no time to spend working in the studio. Or you can have a part time job, no money, and enough time for studio work. The first option leads to either exhaustion or a lack of artistic productivity. The second option leads to either stress or … eviction.”
Istoica is comprised of Christopher Altorf and Jessica Hayes. They use the portmanteau word they came up with at 16 for the freelance photography business they run at night and during weekends. During the work week, though, both Altorf and Hayes work for Hayes’ mom at Engage, an e-learning company that creates videos for corporate internal marketing.
While an artist or a fashion designer might have a hard time selling homemade haute couture or found object art, photography is arguably a more market-friendly trade.
But the fact that there are photo shoots to be done and creative faculty to be spun can still be taxing, as they’re in the studio nearly every evening after a full day at work. “After 9 to 5, there is simply not enough time. So even when someone approaches us with the perfect project, sometimes, because we are not organized, we fuck up.”
“We are just lucky not to have multiple jobs,” Altorf says. Hayes adds that it helps being employed in a technology-based industry—when Engage buys any new equipment, Istoica also benefits.
Luke Correia-Damude is a musician-cum-gallery-owner-cum-waiter who has combined a part-time job with full-time unpaid volunteer work for the past five years. “I am almost unemployable because I have music and also the gallery,” he jokes.
Correia-Damude co-founded the Whippersnapper (which will be relocating this May) with three friends in 2005. As artists themselves, they recognized a lack of space for emerging creators to work outside of the commercial realm. Instead of charging commission on sales, artists pay at-cost fees. Combined with a grant from the Ontario Arts Council, it’s just enough to pay for the rent and the bills. The space itself is run by an army of volunteers who all moonlight as artists.
Correia-Damude also serves as guitarist and vocalist for his band, Boys Who Say No. “Music is an industry where, if you’re lucky, you make nothing,” he explains. “If you’re unlucky, you lose money.” He supports himself by working at the Rosedale Diner, but his hours vary. “After a [band] tour, for instance, I work more … basically, I’m always broke,” he says.
This year, the Whippersnapper applied for an artist run centre grant, which provides funding for spaces that exhibit work by young, emerging artists who lack a huge body of work.
Adam Scott faces a lot of pressure as a member of a touring band—he’s the drummer for Guelph dance party outfit Green Go, whose record from last year, Borders, caught the ears of many tastemakers.
While Adam plays with the band and finishes his degree in environmental geography at the University of Guelph, he is also an active campaigner for ecological causes. Adam has worked for the Georgian Bay Environmental Association for five years, overseeing volunteer projects to monitor the health of watersheds, forests, and air quality in the region. He was most recently a Canadian youth delegate at the Copenhagen 15 Climate Conference in December 2009. Green Go is releasing a remix CD later this year.
Jonathan O’Callaghan proves that juggling two gigs need not be a terrible and thankless affair. He claims that his day job as a chef at the Royal Ontario Museum’s Food Studio and C5 is just as fulfilling as time with his DJ duo Real Talk, which spins at Wrongbar and The Social.
O’Callaghan, who graduated culinary school in Vancouver, moved back to Toronto, working at numerous restaurants throughout the downtown core while performing with several touring hardcore bands. Recently, he was recruied to join the ROM team, and has been cooking by day and DJing by night ever since.
Real Talk has been gaining success, and O’Callaghan is preparing for a month-long Asian tour in June. How will he balance it with his commitments at the ROM? He mentions that everyone at work is incredibly understanding and that he is “super lucky” to have his job.
Slightly irritated by his zen approach, I pressure him for confessions of bottled-up discontent towards cooking and/or DJing—arguably two of the most competitive and stressful professions out there.
“I’ve never had a moment when I was really upset playing music. Even at work, when there is music involved, it’s so much better. I enjoy always having something I can tap my foot to. And sometimes, when a song comes on the radio that everyone knows, we all sing together.”
Photos by David Pike
