We were lucky to catch up with Abby Bagby recently and have shared our conversation below.
Abby, thanks for joining us, excited to have you contributing your stories and insights. Can you talk to us about a project that’s meant a lot to you?
Odyssey Studios has been a lifesaver for me. It began with a seed of an idea, a thorn in my side that I couldn’t shake. In my past I had been a curator of a traditional visual art gallery, a “white cube” as we sometimes call it. There I discovered my love of sharing other people’s work with the city of Dallas. In this specific place I was fortunate to have opportunities to present non-commercial art; to give artists the chance to experiment. I also learned the value of a symbiotic art-to-space relationship. I spent significant time learning to consider the context when installing work in an exhibition, to elevate the art, to create environments that immerse viewers into the show. I fell in love with the practice of curation, with teaching those concepts to artists, and with the community I found in others who make and appreciate visual art. Unfortunately, my time in that space had to come to an end.
For awhile after, I was disillusioned with the gallery scene. I ended my relationship with my previous employers due to pressure from them to censor work I had promised artists would be protected and celebrated. I took time to build my own art practice and have had some success over the years. After about 4 years, having traveled to both participate in artist residencies outside of Texas and to simply take some much-needed space to realign my priorities, I came to miss facilitating shows. As a visual artist and a spectator in Dallas, I noticed there were some disciplines that were being neglected in the gallery scene. Most prominent was the lack of appropriate venue space for performance artists. Those who overwhelmingly work with their own bodies or with movement, who present pieces that cannot remain in a room for weeks at a time due to their ephemeral nature were being relegated to opening receptions for static work or to festivals that happen largely out of town. This began nagging at me. Dallas was missing an opportunity to uphold a much broader scope of work from artists who were already living and working in the city. I realized I had a choice: to leave the city and find a place that celebrated diversity of practices, or to stay and create the space I knew was missing. I decided to stay, and thus Odyssey Studios was born.
I quickly realized that the only space that made sense was bigger than I could fill alone, so I roped in a couple of close friends and fellow artists to join me and together we expanded the initial idea of Odyssey as simply a performance art venue to a shared studio collaborative space. We were still unnamed at that point, and two weeks after we got our keys, the US went into quarantine for Covid-19. For the next 6 months, the space sat mostly empty, another white cube staring me in the face every day as I tried to see it as a blank slate and not an embodiment of the void. As we all began to adjust to our new normal, my studio mates came by more often, and the studio began to come alive. Looking back, I can see clearly how much we needed that incubation period of our first year to find our personality (and our name) as Odyssey Studios. Summer of 2021, we debuted our performance events with an emotional piece by fellow Odyssey member Colton James White. Under the moon on the summer solstice we shared in an experience that could not be replicated or fully explained to anyone but those who were present.
Throughout this last year, we have been able to share in several performance events at Odyssey, and with each one I am introduced to a new revelation about the richness of building community, of creating safe and open-minded spaces, and of leaving the rules behind. Each time we open our doors I meet someone new, and each time I meet someone who has been invited to the space by a friend or a fellow artist who has been to one of our shows before. Our community is diverse in so many ways, but we are all united in being enthusiastic about supporting each other’s work. I’ve redefined my role as arts facilitator instead of curator, because I am not here to tell artists what to do. I simply want to help them with what’s needed to fulfill the vision they already have for their work, and to provide a space for them to present it in. I still believe deeply in the importance of creating environments, so the venue space is rarely painted all white, and it’s sometimes altered beyond recognition to bring the audience fully into the work. And each time, the artist brings us in and delivers something wonderful, thoughtful, and unique.
Being a part of this community has made me feel so seen and purposeful. Some days it seems like it might be over too soon, but other days I know in my core that this time and this place represent something new in Dallas, and that even if it changes, Odyssey and the people who make it what it is aren’t going anywhere. Knowing this, I am excited to see what the future brings.
Great, appreciate you sharing that with us. Before we ask you to share more of your insights, can you take a moment to introduce yourself and how you got to where you are today to our readers
I am a queer sculptor, hairstylist, and arts facilitator. I’m born and raised in the South, living and working in Dallas by way of Tulsa. I’ve always loved working with my hands and interacting with new people. Never satisfied with working for other people, my younger self cultivated an entrepreneurial spirit through side ventures and projects (I find that the contemporary artist has to tap into this energy to maintain a living and to continually create). Between working various jobs and spending time in the local art scene, I began to wonder if the most ethical life is an anticapitalist life, and if so, what that might mean in a capitalist city and society at large. I don’t know if I have found solid answers for how to live this out, but the pursuit has become central to how I approach my businesses and artistic practice.
In general, everything I do helps people embrace their best selves. Whether I am providing a gender-free haircut or space for a first solo performance, the aim is the same: to see folks for who they are and to help the city to see them better as well. My sculpture practice is my attempt at doing this for myself. Through my art I have been able to dig into my deepest wells and to stretch the limits of who I am. The more I find confidence in knowing myself, the better I can facilitate the same in others. And facilitation seems to be the best way to describe the work that I do; I may provide a bit of feedback, but I’ve come to realize that the best way to shine a light for someone is to provide opportunity and then simply step back. It’s in this space of freedom that people will surprise and inspire you.
Collaboration is also a very important element to myself and to Odyssey Studios. Having gone to art school, where it is cultivated in an controlled environment, I was exposed to how much growth you can experience in a very short amount of time in the company of others who are challenging you. Outside of this type of environment, collaboration is much harder to find. I wouldn’t be the person I am today if I wasn’t surrounded by artists, co-conspirators, and friends who push me in new directions and hold me to high standards. It’s this energy of healthy critique and pooling resources and skills that really creates community and meaningful art. We share space at Odyssey via our studios and the shows we host to create equity and to grow through our connections with each other.
What can society do to ensure an environment that’s helpful to artists and creatives?
Artists need space to create and enough money to fund their practices. The marketing strategy of property development is to use the ‘cool’ that artists bring to a community as justification for price gouging of spaces that would make ideal studios or live/work apartments, ironically shutting artists out of the market. This is further compounded by those same spaces and neighborhoods being majority Black and communities of color before outside artists are encouraged to inhabit them. This cycle of displacement and exploitation puts wedges between marginalized communities and artists, as if they are mutually exclusive. Society needs to recognize and eliminate this predatory cycle through protections of established local communities and their homes, and through funding for the business owners and artists who already exist, instead of replacing them with different artists who developers perceive as more palatable.
Cities can also create new opportunities for artists and creatives by zoning for more flexible-use space. Not everything that exists or could exist can fit easily into narrow categories. Often, instead of expansion of what is possible, censorship happens through fines or shutdowns of artist-run spaces or events. There should be forums and town halls where artists and art appreciators can voice concerns and ideas that are listened to and acted upon, if a city is really serious about creating a thriving ecosystem. And the natural next step is to allot more of the city budget to artist initiatives. Funding through grants is a huge reason why many countries besides the US are able to maintain thriving creative environments, because they recognize the value artists bring to their communities and they provide the opportunity for artists to make a salary off of their practice.
Lastly, society must understand that many artists are professionals, and until we embrace a less capitalistic economy, this is their job. Artists should be paid and their hard work acknowledged the same as anyone who might be hired out to do work. Whether the commission is public or private, exposure is never an acceptable form of payment, and asking for a discount because someone’s work seems like they are enjoying it is insulting. If an artist agrees to a trade, that is their prerogative, but the terms should be explicitly laid out before any labor is exchanged. Once artists are valued for the cultural capital that they generate, society will function much more harmoniously and artists will not only work, but thrive.
We often hear about learning lessons – but just as important is unlearning lessons. Have you ever had to unlearn a lesson?
I used to believe that there was a formula to “making it” as an artist. That there was a certain set of steps in a specific order that one should take to get to a place of success, and that this would take many many years. First, an artist must go to art school. A bachelor’s degree is necessary but almost always not enough. Grad school follows, then the artist will seek gallery representation. Once a gallery has agreed to add the artist to their roster, the artist will put on shows at that gallery, who will in turn sell the artist’s work. This work will be purchased by collectors and if the artist is one of the lucky ones, their work will end up in a museum. Museums may choose the artist to be recognized by fellowships or awards, some of which involve cash prizes, and all bring a measure of prestige. If an artist receives enough institutional acknowledgement, they may end up in critical art magazines or even better, textbooks, in which case the artist is then canonized and has reached the pinnacle of their work. Any of the steps may be continued after the artist’s death, resulting in a legacy that can be commodified in perpetuity.
A version of this was taught to me in school, another when I was working at a gallery, and I have observed other visual artists attempt this trajectory for their own careers through the years. Some take this route and are able to check the boxes, but its not a realistic path for most working artists. I spent many years experiencing a low level feeling of failure when I wasn’t able to generate the amount of attention that I thought I should have at different points of my career. I experienced burnout and paralysis instead of letting my work take on the timeline that made sense. And the longer that I’ve been promoting the work of other artists, the less often I encourage artists to take any traditional path forward. I didn’t have one moment when the truth hit me, but gradually over many years I have grown and loosened my grip on the idea of success. The most valuable epiphany that I’ve had both as an artist and an arts facilitator is that all professional checkpoints are arbitrary. If they are self-imposed, they can be reimagined. If they are imposed on you by others, then they only carry the value you attribute to them. If you choose to work differently at any point in life then that is the best way for you to work, period. Your work doesn’t give you value, other people’s recognition of you doesn’t make you a better or worse artist. We’re all just trying to move in the ways that bring us life, and creation brings life. Find that spark and follow it, whatever direction it takes you.
Contact Info:
- Website: odysseystudiosdtx.com
- Instagram: odysseystudios_dtx
Image Credits
headshot: Wesley Kirk image 1: Brie Banks image 2: Zack Huggins image 3: Rico DeLeon image 4: Wesley Kirk image 5: Michael Gerrard image 6: Wesley Kirk image 7: Gero Perez Jr image 8: Abby Bagby