Sell Out, A Series: 5 Questions with Joy Gyamfi
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Sell Out is a series by interdisciplinary artist Angela Fama (she/they), who co-creates conversations with individual artists across Vancouver. Questioning ideas of artistry, identity, “day jobs,” and how they intertwine, Fama settles in with each artist (at a local café of their choice) and asks the same series of questions. With one roll of medium format film, Fama captures portraits of the artist after their conversations.
Joy Gyamfi (she/they/he) is a Black, queer, photographer and writer from Ghana. Follow Joy on Instagram @roughclub, or visit www.roughclub.ca.
Location: Tall Shadow Bakery @tallshadowbakery, or www.tallshadowbakery.com
What do you make/create?
I primarily identify the work that I make as photography... Earlier this year, I travelled to Cuba with this group called Women Photo Tours. They had guest photographer Kennedi Carter, who photographed Beyoncé for the cover of Vogue in 2020. It was really monumental for highlighting a young black woman. On the trip, we talked about language around photography; for example, she uses the terms image maker instead of image taker or capturing a photograph. I’ve really been reflecting on the way that I describe and talk about my art. So, I’m a photographer, and – I really want to lean into – image maker.
I would say that ‘artist’ as a whole really encompasses my identity… I create art, I make photos, I write, I collage… I think multipotentialite (referencing a TED talk by Emilie Wapnick titled Why some of us don't have one true calling) is really the best word because I don’t want to feel limited or tied to one medium. I feel that that label allows me a lot of flexibility and openness. And so, to answer “What do I make/create?” I make art.
What do you do to support that?
Photography is my main income source to support my art. It started out as a hobby, and then I realized, oh, this is a potential source of income. My photography is mostly headshots, images for when people are building a website, or promoting an event; that’s my bread and butter at the moment.
That’s good in terms of making income, but I want to move toward documentary and fine art photography; being able to focus more on the creative, communal, or archival aspects of photography, rather than the business or commercial/client side. I want to have more freedom in what I can create with people. I’m really looking for clients that are more imaginative and not looking for the typical corporate headshot. More fashion and editorial opportunities would be cool.
Something I’m working towards in supporting myself is applying for grants. I’ve applied for some in the past, but I haven’t been successful. Now that I’ve had an artist residency and some recent exhibitions, I’ve updated my CV and feel like I have a little more experience that will show in my applications to whoever I’m applying to: “Please take me seriously as an artist!” Applying for grants is my next step in trying to support myself and make my art sustainable.
I realized when I had my first studio residency how beneficial it was for me and my practice to have a dedicated working space. I created so much – more than I ever had – because I find that the kind of artist, or creator, that I am is an ideas person. I’m like, “Oh I want to do this, and I have this, and this would be so cool,” but I really really struggle to complete projects – like, a LOT. Having a space outside of where I live/sleep/eat was incredible – revolutionary for me – because it was nice. I could just leave stuff there and go in when I had time. I had one informal photo shoot where a friend and I were hanging out and we took some photos at the same time… like, having an indoor studio space?! My photography has primarily been outdoors with natural light because it’s the least expensive option – both for me and the people that I want to collaborate with. Realizing that a studio space is important to me. I want to apply for grants to continue to be able to have that resource.
Describe something about how your art practice and your “day job” interact.
I’ve been off work for almost a year and a half grieving the loss of my mother in October 2023, and when I first considered this question, I asked myself: “What is my job? Do I even have a “day job” at this point?” I’m really thinking through – not just now, but especially after my mom died – whether I can do the same work that I’ve always done. Most of my paid experience as a frontline worker has been in non-profit social service, providing direct one-on-one support. I don’t have the same capacity to do that anymore because the person who poured into me and helped me pour into other people is no longer here. I’ve been thinking more about what my capacity to support others looks like, and that’s led me to reflect on what I want my career to look like moving forward.
I feel like my art practice and day job don’t really intersect, unless I’m talking to my co-workers, or the people that I work with, about what I do as an artist. I would love for them to overlap more. I feel like I’m always bringing up that I love photography, I love to write; I’m a very creative person and I feel I have such a wide range of skills that aren’t being utilized to their full potential – especially in my work environment. I would love to do more work that allows me to use my artistic skills.
I think the reason I don’t see photography as my day job is because I see it as my passion. Photography is my love, the thing that literally brings me joy. I see my day job – what I do as a peer support worker – as the thing that pays the bills; the thing that allows me to survive in this capitalist world. It’s interesting when I think about looking for grants to fund more of my creative work, because in an ideal world where we didn’t live in a capitalistic society, I would do art. I would prioritize being creative and exploring. Because of the current reality, I don’t see that as a feasible option. Financial security is really important to me. Having a regular job, a steady paycheck, benefits, vacation, etc. is something I prioritize over living the grant-to-grant life, chasing invoice payments, or not knowing where my next paycheck is coming from. The “starving artist” life is not for me, I struggle enough as it is.
Just sitting here reflecting, I see that it really stresses me out. That’s why I don’t really see photography and art making as my day job, I see it as what I enjoy and gets me to keep going. I also don’t see it as a sustainable income source. In doing this residency I was able to focus on art. The majority of it also took place during my work leave, so I was able to dedicate a lot of my time to art making.
Art is how I heal, how I process. The residency gave me the space to deeply grieve the major loss that I experienced. My mom and I were super close. She was a single parent, the only parent I had after my dad died when I was ten years old. I am also an only child, so that loss in and of itself was massive. Being able to focus on art, and process that grief through art, was extremely beneficial for my mental health. The residency allowed me to do that because I was given an artist fee for the exhibition, and I didn’t have to pay for a studio space. If I wasn’t given that opportunity, I wouldn’t have been able to heal as much as I have.
I don’t see art as my day job. When I think about how I support myself, I see my photography as an addition to my day job. It gives me extra income when I need it. The amount of photography I’ve done over the years – which I’ve been informally doing, kind of as a hobby, since 2011 – really fluctuates. It’s tied to income but also to some of the imposter syndrome I feel – it’s taken me a long time to be ok with calling myself an artist. I didn’t see myself as an artist because I wasn’t doing an art thing every day. I was more like, “Ok, I have a little more time now so I can take on some photography clients, and that’s my boost of income.” Even now, calling myself an artist is something I’ve grown into, and can say, “You know what? That’s a key part of my identity. I don’t have to be producing to be an artist.” When that clicked and shifted for me, it really helped me own my artist identity, my perception of myself.
(Joy was featured in the July 2020 issue of SAD’s previous Artist of the Month series. Read Joy’s feature and their response to the question, “How does being called an artist sit with you?” here.)
What’s a challenge you’re facing, or have faced, in relation to this and/or what’s a benefit?
The challenge is how do I sustain myself as an artist, and how do I make that a primary income source when I feel like we live in a world where art is not a priority? When there’s a recession, or finances are bad – or whatever (chuckle), some econ major can explain that better. The bottom line is: I didn’t make many sales during my studio residency exhibition. I have friends who are tattoo artists, and they’ve been talking about how bookings have been super slow lately, or smaller businesses are not getting the same traffic or sales as they have in the past. I feel like when times are tough, when people have to conserve money, art is not seen as a necessity – which is another conversation. The challenge is how do I create and pay bills? That’s really what it is. Something I’ve been pondering in relation to this is how do I create art and earn money from it, without the people in my community – who are often historically oppressed or marginalized – having to pay for it?
In an ideal world, the goal would be to do art full time, and have it be a sustainable source of income. I feel that if I get to that place, the benefit would be being my own boss and having a flexible schedule. What I see as my day job is very 9-5 office work. I like routine and structure along with optional flexibility. I’ve realized that working 8 hours a day, 5 days a week is not sustainable for me. It’s not sustainable for many people.
Have you made, or created, anything that was inspired by something from your day job? Please describe.
My first thought is no, but I don’t think that’s true. A lot of what I make and create is inspired by my day job conceptually. I bring my lived experience to my role as a peer support worker in a mental health agency. I know how to support other people because I supported my mom doing similar tasks; things like applying for income assistance and disability, looking for housing, or getting connected to resources. That’s very much what I do in my day job. I think about how I bring so much of myself to my work, not just in my day job but also in my art practice. It feels a little like a non answer, but I feel like everything that I make is inspired by my day job, at least in theory.
At the very end of the studio residency with Future Arts Network, we did a final exhibition to showcase the work we had done. We were allowed to do some public programming to accompany this exhibition. I did a workshop called “sharing (y)our grief.” One of the key pieces in the workshop was the clear acrylic Grief Box. I was inspired by workplace suggestion style boxes where they ask things like: What can we do to improve this space? I wanted that same structure of asking people to anonymously slip comments and/or thoughts into the box, but I wanted it to be centred around grief. My questions were: Who are you grieving? What have you lost?
For the duration of the exhibition, Grief Box was placed on the wall, with the questions above it. There were sticky notes in my studio and folks could sit down, ponder on and answer the question/s. They were intentionally open-ended, so people could relate to grief in various ways. When grief is thought about, it’s so often about death, death of a person, and while I think that is a major part of it…
Something I’ve been going through recently is a break-up with a partner of six years. That’s an extreme grief that I’ve been reckoning with. I think that doesn’t come to mind when people think of grief and loss, so I wanted to create the opportunity and space for people to respond in various ways.
In my day job, I provide support to other people. Extending on that, I’ve felt that my entire life I’ve put other people’s needs before my own. So this workshop really was for me, so that I could process the deep loss of my mother, in a shared space, and other people could also process their own losses in this communal grieving space. The inspiration for sharing (y)our grief came from the supporting other people aspect of my day job. I was able to turn that support inwards while integrating it with support for and with others.
Angela Fama (she/they) is an interdisciplinary artist, creator of the Death Conversation Game, photographer, and musician. They are a French/Italian/Scottish/Irish/Unknown settler with unclear lineage currently existing on the unceded traditional and ancestral territories of the Coast Salish xʷməθkwəy̓əm, Skwxwú7mesh, and Səl̓ílwətaʔ/Selilwitulh Nations.
Follow them at IG @angelafama IG @deathconversationgame or on their website www.angelafama.com
