new BOOK question! and this one’s deep and long. (insert your mom joke).

hello from fucking book world.

i have turned into a slightly crazy person. i am proud!!

can i pat myself on the back for a second? i’d like to.
i have consumed over 60 strong flat whites – that’s 120 shots of espresso – and written over 150,000 words in just 5 weeks.
i have been compiling a book-thank-you list of the cafes that i have been haunting which have been playing the best music and leaving me alone.

the winners have seriously been winning. one cafe last week played NOTHING BUT THE SMITHS AND BOWIE for two solid hours.
i was dancing in my chair. i got great writing done that day. the rage against the machine day, not so much.

why i cannot do this my home, you ask? just, like, throw on a bowie and smiths CD, press repeat, and CRANK?
i do not know, i answer.

that is topic for book #2: “why amanda must constantly be surrounded by noise and strangers at all times or she will die.”

okay, now back to the work:


tell me the stories you know about support and all forms of “patronage.” or if you want…”help.”

i want STRANGE SUPPORT and FUNDING STORIES: how STUFF in your life has been paid for?
how YOUR art/music/whatever has been patronized – inside or outside of the internet??

hit me. if you paint, make music, or create ANYTHING…and you have or have EVER had a strange patron…even a landlord who gave you cheap rent, or a church who let you use the basement for band practice, ANYTHING, this is the place to spill the story.
even if it seems mundane, boring. your parents giving or loaning you money for a guitar. whatever. all the things.

when the dresden dolls were just starting, we borrowed the money to make our first album and video from no less than 6 different people. we had no money. i literally called the richest people i knew, even if they weren’t very rich, and asked if they could all loan us a few grand so that we could make a really decent first recording.

i was just writing in The Book about the time someone i knew randomly met, in the restaurant, the super-wealthy woman who funded john cage and a ton of other experimental musicians in the 60s, betty freeman. i didn’t even know she EXISTED…but i worshipped the music of those guys, and studied them in universities.

it never occurred to me back then to wonder how they got PAID, how they lived, who forked over the dough for them to do the wild, crazy sonic explorations that had ABSOLUTELY NO COMMERCIAL potential…(somehow i can’t see anyone at capitol records screaming “4’33 is gonna sell like HOTCAKES MAN!!! get that cage guy on the roster! he’ll blow up the charts!!!”)

and if you know ANY other good stories about weird arts patronage, music patronage, science patronage. hit me.

aim WIDE! is your friend’s wife supporting her while she goes to grad school? are your parents letting someone you know live in their basement while they run a start-up to make a killer app that will drone-deliver custom vibrators straight to your home in an unmarked box?

and stories of LONG AGO…i know you a lot of you guys are academics and have studied your shit.

talk to me about the old days…the medici, the church, the cave days…ALL OF IT.


no story is too irrelevant or weird. go go go. i’ll be checking back regularly and reading all the comments.


peoples! this is legalese stating that i CAN USE YOUR COMMENTS, or portions of your comments – in the book, freely, and you won’t come suing me. you’ll be seeing it at the bottom of every blog where i’m asking for comments that i might use in the book. don’t be scared.

By submitting information and/or comments to or (hereinafter referred to as “AFP’s Blog”), you grant AFP’s Blog a perpetual, royalty-free license to use, reproduce, modify, publish, distribute, and otherwise exercise all copyright and publicity rights with respect to that information and/or comment at its sole discretion, throughout the world, including storing it on AFP’s Blog servers and incorporating it in other works in any media now known or later developed including, without limitation, published books. If you do not wish to grant AFP’s Blog these rights, it is suggested that you do not submit information to this website. APF’s Blog reserves the right to select, edit and arrange submissions, and to remove information from the AFP’s Blog and website at any time at its sole discretion. You further agree and acknowledge that submitting information and/or comments to AFP’s Blog does not entitle you to receive any compensation, credit or approval rights. You understand that AFP’s Blog has the right but not the obligation to use your comment.

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  • Missi

    I’m staying at my friends’ place in USA for free next time I vacation there – I met them 3 months ago, they’re swingers and apparently just really dig me.

  • AJ Sikes

    He had no idea he was doing it, and neither did I at the time, but my first landlord in college (when I went back to college after five years off), got me started in my life as a creative. He gave me the cheapest rent imaginable (1-bedroom house, $250/mo, w/d included, full, I mean FULL garden of vegetables out back and three months rent free during the summer when he’d come sleep on the couch all week and garden). Guy was a Vietnam vet, retired, just looking for a cozy place away from his real home in the San Francisco. I got my act together living there, got my grades up, learned my art history and tried my hand at sculpture and mixed media. Years later I’m finally launching my life as a writer and freelance editor. I’ll never forget how free and un-blocked, un-prevented I felt living in that little cinder block house with the peeling pink paint on the outside and the fusty smelling furnace on the inside. The best digs I ever had back then.

    • Kristen G.

      Beautiful beginnings!

  • TimBowen

    I held a crowdfunding campaign to help buy distribution for my books “Hallucinating Arkansas” and “Voices of Chaos.” I got a few random donations and nothing was looking like I would get it finished, but then out of nowhere a guy from England donated $350, and agreed to be co-publisher. I now have full distribution for both books, and have actually gotten ok sales on Voices of Chaos. Now, the print on demand company I use, Createspace, offers the same distribution I had to pay for back then for free, so all of my more recent books are already covered, and I’ve recently been able to get the books into the local Barnes and Nobles here where I live. I’m forever grateful to that wonderful stranger who helped make this dream of mine come true!

  • philosophiste

    You should talk to my friend Adrian about his successful foray into the “gift economy”. HuffPo recently did an article on him.

  • Lola

    Since I was a small child I used to draw all of the time. I remember once when I was about 9 years old one of my parents’ bosses say my drawings and wanted to send me to some fancy art school (can’t remember the name). This was in the US. My parents refused and sort of crushed my dreams of becoming a painter. A few years later when I tried to pursue the same dream in university, once again my parents crushed the dream. I never drew anything again. Then I got into music. My father gave me my grandfather’s old beat up guitar and I taught myself how to play it. When he heard some of my first songs he bought me a semi-acoustic ovation (I still have it and play it occasionally for fun). I never did get a chance to be part of a band because living in Portugal musical taste is kind of far from my own. So I was always a loner. I did go to university and got a degree in multimedia production (it is a sort of art, I guess) and now they are helping me out with my masters on audiovisual production. I have developed a passion for documentaries… so that’s my new dream. I hope I don’t get my dream crushed once more (fingers crossed!).

  • AnarchyCupcakes

    I have been given not one, but two guitars… once from the owner of an instrument shop that wanted to encourage me, and once from an anonymous person at a church I played guitar at. I asked for neither but both made all the difference in my world in my early 20’s. Aside from inspiring and encouraging me, it kept food in my mouth as I often made it by through busking.

  • Heike

    I spent 8 months or so in Argentina and on my way back home to the US I had a loooong layover in Peru. I decided to go into the city and explore, and I happily spent every cent of the money I had on me on different things I bought. When I came back into the airport, I was blindsided by a fee. Cash-only. No card (though I honestly think I didn’t have a cent in any account). After an already-long journey to cap off a long time away from home, I started to sob uncontrollably until a man stopped, asked what was wrong, and gave me the cash to pay the fee. I feel like my mini-trip into Lima was funded by this kind stranger.

    • Lucero Rodriguez Iglesias

      Hey! Did you liked Argentina? I’m from Buenos Aires

  • A-Chizzel

    I bake. It’s my passion and my art. I don’t have a patron as such, but my friends help me by letting me use it as a form of currency. Help me pick up furniture with a trailer, you get a chocolate cake. Invite me to your wedding, ask me if I can provide cupcakes to be passed around while photos are taken instead of a present. Mind my child for an evening, you get biscuits.

    While I can create my art for myself and those close to me it’s way more fun to create it for others, strangers and get their feedback. While I’m honing my art I’m given opportunities to get it out in public and that’s fun.

  • murray

    I moved to melbourne in 2001 looking for work and realised quickly that I wasn’t going to get work unless I got educated. So off to Tafe I went. After Tafe came university so for a solid 5 years I lived off aus-study.

    The lesson I learned during those below the poverty line years is that it’s ok to let your friends pay for stuff.

    Not all my friends were poverty striken students. Some of them had jobs and they wanted to DO stuff, like goto the movies with me. It was a really hard lesson to learn to ignore my pride and let them pay for my movie ticket, or hot chocolate or whatever when I knew, KNEW that I wouldn’t be paying ‘next time’ or whatever. Financially it was a one way transaction and I was officially a ‘moocher’.

    When I told this to a very good friend of mine he pointed out that it’s not a one way transaction at all. Sure, he was paying for my drink, but that was because he enjoyed my company and wanted to spend time with me. The alternative was he could hang out with me and not do something we both enjoy because I’m poor.

  • lisa

    After years of being “just a housewife” (no family or childcare available to go back to work)painting murals on the kids walls, making costumes(the latest a fifth element leeloo for my amazing 6 year old daughter, who is going to build a pink house for us in space!) and anything else they need i stumbled across the art of papercutting. Then discovered i have a real knack with cutting photos. Rather than be dismissive my amazing hubby and 15 yr old son bought an old school desk(we have very little money) and chopped the legs off so i could sit at the table and cut without my back hurting. Then they encouraged and helped me open a facebook page(shameless.plug to gain confidence in showing my work. After all this i have now applied to go to uni to study graphic arts! My hubby and two kids are so excited for me while i go for portfolio interviews and wait to hear from them (eeek!) bringing me cups of coffee while i work, and my little girl telling all her friends what a great artist i am. Sod money, my best patrons are the three people who share my heart and my home and even if i am never successful in my field i always will be to them

  • Anna

    Oh, nice question! Financially (and emotionally) my parents have supported me through all the strange aspects of my art, music and animation filled life up to recently helping me buy a house where I could build a tiny shed to work in on my own stuff in peace.

    But the people who didn’t have to help me but did have done so mainly through emotional support, like a friend of mine buying a webcam to talk to me on skype for a solid four hours when I was stuck with my graduation film a week before the deadline and we were in different countries. Or the amazing few friends I’ve shared my new plans with (which are kind of too big and ridiculous to ever even consider for a normal person, possibly) and not laughing in my face (like some others did), but trying to help me on the way as much as they can. Or my singing teacher who believed in me as a person LONG before I did and became close to a second mom.

    As far as financial support goes, I haven’t needed to count on non-relatives yet, but the emotional support I’ve gotten has carried me where I am today. There is no money that could buy it.

    • Anna

      I might add that my parents helping me buy a house and build a shed is kind of a massive biggie. I feel like I downplayed it a little bit in that post, but the stability and peace of mind it gave me allowed me to do so much more of my own work than I would’ve been able to do without it it’s Incredible.

  • Tilley

    I don’t know if this counts as patronage… more probably just gifting but… When I went on my first tour in late 2012, after my first crowdfunding campaign to release my first album… I got to my gig in Perth and there was a bottle of Moet, an Adele CD (?), and a FUCKING BANJO in a hard case sitting on the stage for me, with a very cryptic, gushing letter of support and encouragement. Anonymous – signed only “Slippers”.

    Turns out, after a great deal of investigation and piecing-together of clues, the mysterious gifts were from a guy who used to date my mum (?!?!) like 20 years ago when I was very young. Apparently he had never quite gotten over her, had somehow come across my name & music online, realised I was her daughter, and came to my gig in Fremantle. A bit creepy… slightly unsettling… but hey! I have a banjo now, and for that I am grateful!

    • Camila Sanmiguel

      that….is fucking cool. that guy is a swagfag

  • KZS

    Back in September, I started an experiment with my family… we randomly choose a country (from slips of paper in a bowl), then the following week we dedicate that Sunday evening to that country — I plan a meal from that country, and during dinner, we learn facts about it, speak some words/phrases of the native language, and listen to music from that chosen country. After dessert, we watch a film from our randomly chosen destination.

    During the months that I had been doing this, I would take photos of the meals I was preparing and put them up on Facebook. I got such a response from my friends about how much they loved the idea and how they looked forward to the next week to see what country was represented. Then a writer friend of mine took me aside and told me that I should really be blogging about this adventure — that she had told friends of hers about it and how they too thought it was such a unique and inspiring idea.

    I took my friend’s advice and have been blogging about it for a few months now. She also took an huge interest in helping me set up the blog and offered tons of advice on different things to do as far as links and tags and google analytics. It’s a fantastic creative outlet for me, and I probably never would have thought to share it with the world had my friend not suggested it. I am forever grateful that she took such an interest and am still completely floored when she explains it’s because I’ve been so inspiring to watch as I plan and execute each week’s “destination.”

    My little blog can be found at where I take my family around the globe, one meal at a time. :)

  • Félix Marqués

    (Nice disclaimer there.)

    When you did the “Theatre Is Evil” kickstarter, I had to fund my funding of it. A friend gave me 80€ so I could add that to my 20€ and get the art book + CD package. I gave her the money back in small amounts over the next three months. I actually HAD 100€ when the Kickstarter begun, but my family is in a precarious situation so I wanted to make sure that I didn’t spend a lot of money at once.

    As part of my career (Spanish Language and Literature) I had a subject which was Power and Art in the Modern Age. It was a fascinating subject because it explained the entirety of Western art history from the Renaissance until the 19th century.
    As it turns out, ALL OF IT, every important change in style, every ambitious work, ALL OF ART BACK THEN basically evolved and existed because all of it was propaganda. And while, at the beginning, artists were seen simply as partaking in a craft, from the Renaissance onwards artists begun to acquire prestige, because they had started to become vital to the court’s image, to the extent that around the 17th century powerful people were expected to understand art and value and protect artists with individual styles and stuff. I really suggest, if you want to think about it in depth, that you look for a book or two on the subject. There’s probably even college textbooks on it in English.

  • Aaron Bruce

    Mine’s pretty mundane. I was a pretty serious f-up in high school. The only thing I took seriously was the cello, but by the end of my senior year it was pretty obvious how unlikely it was that I was going to be going very far in classical performance, but it was the only thing I even cared about a little bit. I had to transfer out of my school because my grades were so bad.

    In the middle of all that adolescent mess, when it wasn’t even clear that I’d be graduating at all, my parents decided to spring for a graduation present anyway. They dropped $3,000 on a new cello for me. My old cello was a nightmare and I had outgrown it a long time ago.

    Thinking back on it I realize how big of a deal it is for parents to be willing to spend that kind of money on their underachieving adolescent son who probably won’t have a career in music.

    Today? Well I don’t have a career in music, but I do have a creative musical life and I think that gift was a spark. The support my parents gave me when I was at my worst, when other parents might’ve taken a more draconian approach, has influenced me greatly.

  • Paige Kleckner

    My most recent support comes from a close friend who encouraged me to step out of the cookie cutter life and quit the first job I got right out of college. There was a difficult owner, a 45 minute drive (one way) and I was being strangled creatively. She gave me the courage and lead by example by quitting her job as well. It is difficult for my generation to realize that you’re not required to graduate college, get a job, get married, pop out children and call it good. You can pursue your creative dreams and it’s okay to have a job that doesn’t offer health insurance. I firmly believe that you CAN do something you love and thrive in for your day job (especially creatives) instead of sitting behind a desk 9-5 and then when you’re tired and haggard going home to try and stay awake long enough to work a little on your passion with whatever energy you might have left at the end of the day. It doesn’t have to be this way! I am thankful for the close knit of friends I now have that encourage this lifestyle and don’t give up on this way of life. While everything isn’t 100% secure or taken care of I think it is worth it to continue this lifestyle. It isn’t common to find young adults in the midwest willing to throw caution to the wind and pursue their creative passions full time. While it isn’t the norm to do so, it is most definitely worth it.

  • Félix Marqués

    Parental support is SO IMPORTANT. My parents always encouraged me to draw and write and whatever, and never told me that being a successful artist was impossible (my father is a musician and my mother recently took to writing).

    A good friend, though, had parents who didn’t treat him very well, exactly. They threw her sculptures and mechanical stuff to the garbage (this is frighteningly common—I’ve known people whose drawings were ripped and thrown away because they “distracted” them from school work).

    My friend stuck to making art, he’s brilliant at it, and eventually held a show and sold quite a bunch of paintings. But a lot of people feel discouraged, stop practicing, and maybe spend the rest of their lives feeling like they should have kept trying at art, but they often feel that they’ve missed so much time and they’re so far behind in practice and talent that they can’t bother to take it up again.

    • Félix Marqués

      We could also get into the subject of Art Schools and how much they often suck, and how little they value the creativity of their students. If you’ve ever attended a Conservatory or music school, Amanda, you probably know what I’m talking about. Maybe it’d be interesting for you to explain what your art-learning experiences have been in school/college (you studied Drama, didn’t you?) vs. in other environments, and how encouraged you’ve felt to keep going in those different situations. What really helps make an artist?

      Then again, Art Education is by itself a subject worth of several books.

  • Shannon Vermeeren

    I’m a teacher by day, photographer by heart. Because I don’t have to pay my bills through my photography, I tend to barter a fair amount. I haven’t paid for a haircut or color for almost three years. I’ve received free clothing in exchange for some web photos for a clothing upstart ( – great story about mental health behind the line. check’em out), concert tickets and access to shoot several bands to do some ad work for a friend, several bottles of good wine in exchange for shooting a 99th birthday party. One of my clients is an art teacher who pays me in hand-made ceramics and gift cards she’s received from students. Free ad space in exchange for shooting promo stuff for a popular local band… The list goes on and on… I almost prefer bartering for things other than money – it’s less awkward for me.

  • MsFaraday

    I grew up loving to draw and create anything I possibly could. I loved playing piano, making miniatures out of clay, painting anything that inspired me (half naked Trent Reznor tied up in bondage painting winning an award in high school? Heck yeah!), anything I could get my hands on to create, I would. When I said I wanted to go to school for art, my dad refused. He said I’d died starving in a ditch and never amount to anything. It was a constant verbal attack that I’d never succeed. I began to major in art education in school, hating every second of it, knowing I wasn’t truly following my own passion. I met my now husband in a freshman drawing class who was majoring in illustration and had a passion for just about everything creative wise as well. I explained my situation and he supported me when I said I would love to go into design knowing I’d be able to get much needed health care in that field as opposed to painting. I fought for a year with my dad who finally conceded (he was helping me pay for school so he kinda had the ability to pull me out if he really wanted to) and allowed me to change my major. I didn’t believe in myself, but my husband did. He encouraged me all the while through every bit of self doubt. He graduated with me, calmed me when I was afraid I wouldn’t get a job and congratulated me when I finally did. Every whim I wanted to explore he supported. He bought me an airbrush when I wanted to pursue that. A mandolin when I wanted to get into music. A small synth when I thought that was more my taste. All as gifts and all as signs of support when my own family scoffed at me and told me I was going to fail. I am a successful designer now working on my first book, something he supports whole heartedly as well. If I told him I suddenly wanted to pick up basket weaving, he’d be at my side taking a class with me with a smile on his face. Who knew 7 years ago I would have met the person who would give me the power to keep on creating.

  • Luciano Barua

    Are you planning coming to Argentina? We really want you here!!!

    • Lucero Rodriguez Iglesias

      Yes PLEASE!!!! (Even though this is a complete side note on the original post)

  • loring

    I’m a scientist, so I think a lot about alternate sources of funding in scientific research — not sure if this qualifies as “weird”, or “crazy”, exactly, but but a cool-ish thing that is happening in this arena is:

    Sometimes the public are science “patrons” not just in terms of providing monetary support, but maybe even providing data, too. A friend once told me a story about one biologist who asked tourists to identify all the different species of fish in the pictures they took on vacation and enter them into a spreadsheet, then used the data to look at patterns of diversity in different coral reefs & through time.

  • Kristen G.

    In my life, I’ve started seeing patronage as a collaboration. Something for nothing/nothing for something. We have nothing unless our two parts combine. So like, if you give me your living room for seven hours, I will fill it with people and poets and dancers and call it a reading. These two parts (living room and artist) aren’t much without each other, are they? I mean, a living room will always be a living room and an artist will always be an artist, independently of each other, but a collision of the two produces something new. So what comes first? The living room? The artist? Who is the patron of who?

    • Scott Moore

      I like the feel of it as a collaboration or a collision. There is more energy transferred in both directions. In some of the earlier comments people describe sacrifices they made for others to fulfill their artistic dreams. I think often times patrons are people with a desire for creative expression but who lack either confidence or skill to do it themselves. So they support someone else’s dream. What you propose provides an encouraging atmosphere where the beneficiary and the benefactor are both supportive and creative. Everybody wins!

  • B

    When I was in Elementary school, my school had a writing contest, I really loved stories and writing. I won almost every year, and as a prize, I got notebooks and pens.

    On my last year there, we were supposed to “make” a magazine with help of our teachers. When they came from the printing house, I was checking it and found the greatest surprise ever: one of MY stories published. It was read by lots of people. I was, and still am, astonished, surprised, that something I had written, a 12 year old, would be kinda-published to be read by all parents, grandparents as something good. (The main story was an interview to a really well known journalist in my country).
    Still to this day, the teacher that got my short story to that magazine, tells me to never stop writing, that I’m great at that. Even though I’m in university studying science and engineering. Now I want to write a great story.
    You are awesome. See you around, B.

  • Heather Heddleson


    I remember this very clearly. I was not at the party but was and still am a very big fan of the band. I went to a concert not long after their arrest and over heard one of their bandmates saying Baby Genius and Quentin were stuck in CT on court orders. I had a really hard time justifying contributing to the fund because of a moral standing, so I did not. I just couldn’t donate because I did not know enough of the facts and I hardly knew those involved but I think this certainly falls under the category of off the beaten path art patronage.

    • Félix Marqués

      Broken (or, rather, joined) link!

  • Eva Tulip Dekker

    My friends and I have made a Dutch zombie movie called “Lijkzang” (Corpsesong) based 100% on volunteers and the financial support of friends, family and kind strangers. We sold our own stuff during Queens Day, held a zombie carwash and got all kinds of crazy enthusiastic people involved. Actors, film crew, make up, catering, editing, organization, special effects, EVERYONE put in their time for free! We shot the whole movie (love story meets gay pride meets zombies) in five days and a lot of people slept right next to the set in tents. It was like a mini creative festival meets hard work meets holiday.

    Our trailer can be found here:
    And this is our Facebook page:

  • Bear

    My amazing best friend has been supporting me for 9 months whilst we try to make a name for ourselves in the big city. I’ve been job hunting and working crappy jobs this whole time but with no luck. We’re bubbling along, making art, doing amazing things I would never have been able to do without his generosity. It’s hard sometimes to go without new things, haircuts or fancy nights out but we’re wildly happy with amazing friends and we’re both creatively bursting at the seams. I would never ever have said ‘yes’ to all this without you by the way!

  • lilliandougherty88

    Well I’m not sure if it counts but my dad lets me live at home for free and only makes me pay for food and I’m a 25 year old high school dropout all because he knows I’m writing a novel and am always trying to get something written and he actually believes it will workout.

    And while it’s not exactly funding support my best friend keeps my from giving up each and every single time, in life and in art. He’s offered to loan me money but I’ve not had to take it yet but it’s come close. Really close.

  • Missy Bell

    When I was a VERY young director my theatre prof came to my show, held an after-party at her house, and gave me the next script that crossed her desk and said “you make this work”.

  • Heidi Spadter

    In 2012, on Thanksgiving, my sister’s husband died of cancer. When I went down to the funeral from Maine to NY, she asked me to move in with her. I was in a dead end job that I hated and a stressful roommate situation. The timing was perfect and she offered to have me move in with her. She pays me a stipend to stay home and make art. Twice a month, she transfers money into my account and I live with her rent free. I was a cook before and I try to make sure I make dinner every night so she has less to think about when she gets home from work as a high school English teacher. I struggle with bipolar disorder and I don’t always make it into the studio. She never upbraids me for lack of production and she’s helped me with equipment costs, hotels and show fees. I can never repay her for her generosity of spirit as well as material benefits, but I do my best to make good art and be there if she needs to talk or whatever. I have heard some snide remarks from the rest of the family as to having a “sugar daddy” but I think of her as a patron, like the Medicis.

  • Cheryl Turner

    I’ve never been aided in my creativity financially but back in 2003 I had just given birth to my first child, I was 19, in an abusive and destructive relationship and suffering from what I now know was a complete psychotic episode – I have now been diagnosed with cyclothymia – I was a mess, lost in a dank abyss… suicidal, selfish and mentally tortured. I ended up losing myself in the Internet and there I made a friend who remains a friend to this day; he wrote beautiful poetry – powerful words that spoke to me and so I decided to try my hand at it. To begin with I wasn’t very good but it felt good and for a small amount of time it cleared my mind (miraculous!) The more I wrote, the more emotion I would expel and the better I would feel… I haven’t stopped writing since. When I look back at the exquisite art I have created with my words it astounds me and fills me with a sense of accomplishment that had been sorely lacking in my life before then..
    And all because of a man at the other side of the world who wrote the prettiest words and deigned to share them; I have no doubt that this one thing changed the course of my life and had a fundamental impact on the woman I have become and I will be forever grateful for that.

  • Heather Bennett

    I do worry that people think my boyfriend is my -gulp- “sugardaddy”. He’s 24 and I’m 17, he lives in Russia, and he loves buying me presents. For my christmas present he gave me his card details and insisted I spend at least £50 or he would spend £100 (he knows I hate spending other people’s money) and he will buy me stuff at the drop of a hat. In the past six months (which hasn’t included my birthday btw) he’s bought me £40 of clothes, £30 of makeup, £20 technology, £110 jewellery, £20 misc crap. Don’t get me wrong I buy him stuff too, but I’m still at school and he’s in a full time job, and he orders all this stuff to be delivered at my house; we haven’t seen each other in person since October

    • Worried

      Heather, please be very, very careful of this man. I’m sure he seems sweet and maybe he is who he says he is, but girls your age are hurt and abused every day by men who are experts at grooming young girls and know the techniques. If he ever tries to buy you a plane ticket or something, please, please don’t go!! And don’t let yourself be alone with him until you’ve really gotten to know him in a safe, public environment first. Do NOT leave the country to meet him. Russia is a hotbed of sex trafficking, and a lot of these girls are lured there via the internet. He gets you there,you have no local ties, no papers if he gets your passport away from you… and you are worth a lot of money to him, far more than a couple hundred euros of clothes. It is VERY VERY SUSPICIOUS for an adult man from Russia to be romancing and sending money to a teenager in the UK. It seems like it could never happen, I’m sure, and it seems like he would never be the kind of person to do that, but all the men who do this seem that way to all the girls who get taken in. Just be CAREFUL.

  • Sofia Rodriguez Engelbrecht

    I have a few quick ones.
    One of my best friends did a masters in sustainability and corporate responsability, and she did it with money her ex boyfriend lent her. He was a drug dealer. The idea was that she was channeling sort of, arguably, ill gotten money and turning it into goodness for the world. Sort of like money laundering but in a nice way..
    Another one.. my shaman told me this one: one of his clients was a painter who does these beautiful paintings of the jungle and these sort of underground caves where all the roots of the jungle trees meet (I guess partly these paintings must be a result of the sessions with the chaman) and he had an aquiantance, an old man with hmwhat do you call the phobia of going outside? and he paid his A LOT of money to paint these amazing murals on all the walls in his study and bedroom, all with vines and trees and light shining through leaves and wind and stuff ( I didn´t se it but I m picturing it) and with that the painter liced for 2 years just painting…
    And another one.. my ex stepmom who is a therapist had a patient a few years ago who made very ornate and strange pottery which was not very functional or sellable. Even so he was able to study art and then give excibitions and live and pay for stuff like therapy, because an unknown relative somehow paid for all his expenses through a lawyer.. just like in great expectations!
    well, what else.. ah, one more! a few years ago I translated something for a friend into german. It was an application for a scholarship or grant that would enable her to live in LA for a few months painting and it outlined her project there. It was a very cool project about the people who dress up as hollywood stars on the streets and about how they inhabit these costumes and identities, and about how they feel when they take off their make up and such… and she did get it, this german fund or something did give it to her and the paintings ended up going in another direction but were great even so!

  • Jamie

    Help? Support? Patronage? Nope. Done it all myself. From day one. Not for a lack of asking. Some of us are just out here all alone.

  • Leafy

    More general support than creative support, but…

    I had a stroke when I was 20. I recovered pretty quickly, but the bills for an ambulance ride, all the tests, and a few nights in the hospital can be killer. I figured my mom’s insurance would cover it fine (she’s a nurse, so she should have good insurance…right?), but I found out later she had to cough up thousands of dollars for it.

    And she never complained. She never brought it up when I was being an ungrateful little snot. She never asked me to contribute. It wasn’t easy, either — she was in debt all over the place, and had to declare bankruptcy a few years later (mostly due to the other problems, but this didn’t help). We don’t always get along, but she did this for me, and I am really grateful.

  • Heather

    Also, you guys may wanna see this! Fem transman crowdfunding his top surgery!

  • Grace S.

    When I was 15 I started writing a blog. Most of it were useless ramblings, but I started to post short fiction every now and then. By the time I was 20 (in 2010), finishing law school and dreading to be a lawyer, an editor found my blog and offered to publish it (the good bit of it). It was not a big run, but seeing my words on paper meant the world to me. It still does.

    Three years went by, and all that time I was trying to make my way in the world as a lawyer, and hating it with my guts. I despised my job and everything I already was an expecting to become, but I couldn’t leave it because I could end up in the street. I didn’t have the courage to change.

    Then, someone bought my book and loved it. Then we loved each other. I ended up leaving my old career and my country to live with my (now) husband, who is very kindly supporting me while I become what I always wanted to be: and editor and a translator. That is who I am now, and I am very, very thankful to my editor and to my husband, who made my life now possible.

    • Keira M. Rush

      What is your book called?

      • Grace S.

        Delirium. It’s a pretty little paperback, written in spanish and published in Mexico :)

  • Jesse

    I came out as a female to male trans person in 2004 after years of trying to find reasons to dodge the reality of the gender issues I was facing. My wife and I had gotten married a year before after some discussion about the very real possibility of this happening. A year later, I started hormones and began day dreaming about “top” surgery. She is a landscaper and I am an advocate for low-income folks on the brink of homelessness in Boston so at $10,000 plus travel expenses and several weeks off of work, my badly needed surgery very much felt like a day dream. In 2007, after hearing me mention my “day dream” as an impossibility to a friend, I received a call from someone in our religious community – that call changed everything. We talked about how much wrapping 2-3 ace bandages across your chest every day – even when running marathons — to hide the boobs that you hate so much sucks. At the end of that conversation, they offered to pay for my transition surgery. I was stunned and could think of nothing to do but cry – I couldn’t even get the words thank you out of my mouth. Back then, the only way to change your gender marker on government papers was to have surgery so not only would this make my body feel like mine, it meant not having to be outed when applying for jobs or in other arenas. I would never have been able to manage the surgery on my own and now, after so many years of being separated from my body, I am finally living in it thanks to this gift.

    • Stevie Bej.

      Amazing. Thanks for making me cry :)

      • ANon

        I’m a firm believer in trans-reality therapy. You should check it out sometime.

  • Clafoutis

    My story is not about me being a recipient of patronage, but being a patron- a broke-ass early-twenties patron. For four years I covered rent and many, many bills for a friend of mine who became my boyfriend. He is an amazing guitarist and a brilliant man, and he’s had a life that was full of hardship and near-death experiences and chaos, and he filled my life with music and art. I wanted so badly to give him a launching pad, a safe place to create and not worry about food or shelter, that I almost bankrupted myself and lost my mind doing it. And like so many other creative people, that spark that I loved and wanted to support was also unstable, paranoid, addictive. After I was no longer able to support him and he was institutionalized he’s gone through many diagnoses, and he is still very sick. I listened to Ampersand basically on repeat for a while, by the way. I’m thankful for those years when I was able to give him some freedom and kindness. But sometimes patronage isn’t enough.

    • Sofia Rodriguez Engelbrecht

      uff, sounds like my life all over. Only he was a painter and 3d sculptor, and we were together for 11 years. I do remember commuting back from work wondering if I would find him immersed in an amazing painting or ODing on ketamine on the floor or deep in some theory about my cheating on him with the neighbour.. anyway. Yeah sometimes love and kindness is not enough

  • Elizabeth Sigurdson

    There have been times when I was really down and out, and my community has come together to support me. My online community of intellectual and artsy geek friends, that is. One of the lovely people from this community sent me a birthday care package with a nightgown, some tea, a lovely amethyst mood-bracelet, and forty bucks. That covered a whole month’s electric bill plus a dinner at Wendy’s, not to mention improved my mood and attitude a hundredfold and made me feel human and like a person who can have and do things and receive love, in a time when I didn’t feel human very often because between work and school I was nothing but a production automaton.

    I had a professor hand me a $20 once after I explained to him that the primary reason I was having a hard time with the paper was not that it was difficult, but that I was spending a lot of my time on trying to find a job because I was food-insecure, and the lines for the food bank take a few hours to get through, and I’d just lost my food stamps because if you are in school and can’t find a job, you are clearly a person who doesn’t need a job because you are wealthy, and therefore are not eligible for assistance. That bought dinner for a few days, and I got my paper done.

    These small acts of kindness, some asked for, some unsolicited, are among many that have helped me through life. I have been given interest-free loans from family members who couldn’t afford gifts that have paid my rent during the hard summer months when I don’t get any student loan money. I hope this will continue. I try to remember to advocate for myself and ask when I need help, and I always try to advocate for others when I can. I try to pay forward the kindnesses that have been done to me. I hope that someday I can afford to live without the weight of poverty pressing on me, but I know that this is unlikely, as I tend to give away things as soon as I get them.

  • Ameara MClennan

    I went to Italy on a full scholarship… mostly because i made the prototype for the wii fit n my school sold it for 9 million cause i made it for a project… so my choices were suing the school n not getting my bfa or going to italy for free for a year…. i chose italy

  • Robyn Bridgeman

    Hi Amanda. This story is not so much about giving funding, but offering a complete stranger a safe place to sleep on a night where she had nothing and nowhere to go.
    For at least a solid year I was homeless and addicted to substances – Crack/Cocaine, Heroin, Methadone, you name it, I smoked it, injected it, stole it, sold it. I was 16/17 when I started using, and as a 17 year old girl I found it alarmingly easy to get my hands on free or cheap drugs. Especially if I was doing different sorts of ‘favors’ for the men that took turns housing me. After one particularly gruesome night I stumbled out of a dark basement sobbing and dressed in men’s clothing that hung from my emaciated body, and ran to the highway with no idea where to go or what to do.
    I felt used, ashamed, and hopeless.
    I waited at the bus stop for the first bus to stop and take me into town. I had no bus fare but the driver said nothing as I clambered to a seat and sat, hysterical, wondering what my next move would be. A man sat across from me and watched with pity as me, a tiny hungry and sad little girl curled into myself, snot and tears running down my face.
    He sat next to me and asked me what was wrong. I didn’t tell him the whole story but mentioned that I was “homeless” and “afraid” and “had nowhere to go”.
    He offered me his couch to sleep on. He worked nights in Langford and was heading home to sleep, himself. He offered me a cup of coffee.
    We transferred onto a bus to his house and upon arrival he set up a sleeping bag for me on his couch. He offered me food, water.
    I waited until he went to shower and I stole whatever I could find from his cupboards that I could sell later for drugs.
    I wish that I could thank him.
    I could have been raped again, forced to do anything. He gave me the option to sleep soundly. I have since then moved cities and I assume he doesn’t still live in the same suite. But I hope he knows how much that gift benefited me at that point in my life.
    I hope this story is relevant enough for you. Thanks for giving me the opportunity to share it, Amanda. <3

    • Robyn Bridgeman

      As a side-note, I should mention that I started my journey to sobriety after my 18th birthday. It’s been turbulent, but I am 21 now and have a steady job and a life that I look forward to.

  • revsparker

    How I became a minister is one long story of patronage. When I realized I needed to do this, I was a single mom surviving on welfare and student loans. It seemed entirely impossible that is be able to afford to move to California for seminary. It seemed impossible that is even figure out how to apply and interview.

    I often say it took a strange series of miracles–but those miracles weren’t some “hand of God” events.. Each and every one of them was a person. The first was Molly, who I’d befriended in. Y American Literature course. We’d started hanging out and having lunch and became good friends. When I told her of my defamation, she said to go for it.. I said it was impossible. Then she made the oddest confession I’d ever heard: She told me that she was married to the CEO and founder of one of the biggest companies in the stet and was rich. Really rich. And she didn’t want anyone at the university to know because she thought that they would never take her seriously. She and her husband were major donors to the school and she knew that people would talk. Anyway, she told me that she would make sure I got to seminary. And first, would fly me out so I could interview in person.

    I got accepted, and then I had to find the courage and means to get there. While Molly had agreed to cover me, she insisted that I ask others to help. I told my very first online community–a Unitarian Universalist usenet group (remember those) that I was part of. One of the members said she’d be glad to ask others to donate. For the next few months I got checks in the mail from people I’d never met totaling over $1000. Then Molly held a party fundraiser in my honor and raised over $1000 more.

    Molly paid for the UHaul and gas and first months rent. Another friend sent me fifty dollars a month for four years. And countless people encouraged me and supported me in tough times. When my son got in trouble that cost us thousands, another friend I didn’t even know had the means stepped in with a check. Because of all these people, I am a minister and also the person I’m meant to be. I owe them. I pay it forward as often as I can and that is the ongoing joy.

    • revsparker

      It won’t let me edit. I told Molly of my dream, not my defamation. :)

  • Whiskey & Music

    I always wrote rhymes growing up, but I never recorded them in any kind of professional capacity. When I was about 22, I got together with a group of my six closest friends every week to play poker. It started becoming tradition that at some point in the night, I would spit a verse or two of the latest thing I was working on. Every time I finished, I heard a lot of the same remarks I had heard for years: “you need to record that”, “you gotta get into a studio”, etc. Then, one of my buddies decided that every time he won that night’s poker game (pot was usually between $120-240) he would set it aside in a “studio fund” to pay for me to record. I did the same, and it was only a matter of weeks before I found myself recording my first song, called Breath to Breathe (if you wanna hear it, here ya go And that song, along with the rest of my poker-funded demo, led to a small record deal with an indie label. Funny thing was, it wasn’t me who came up with this idea for my friends to fund my music (directly or indirectly) through poker. It was this one dude who decided to route his winnings into my music, which in a way he believed in more than I did. That’s what set everything off.

    • Niedec

      That’s a really cool story. I’ve had a few friends help me out in similar ways, though not quite to that extent. I’m still trying to make things, to be honest, but just having their support is so huge. I feel very lucky.

      Anyway, I want to listen to your music, dude, but the link’s not working for me. Is there anywhere else I could get it? Is your band name Whiskey and Music, too? Is there a website anywhere? Really curious to hear what you’ve been producing.

      • Whiskey & Music

        Hey– thanks for your interest. You can download my EP or hear it on most sites like Spotify, Beats, iTunes, Amazon, etc. Just search “Preconditions of Extinction” which is the name of the EP. My artist name is The WID. Here’s a video we shot for the song “Awake”: If you have links to any of your stuff, I’d love to check it out as well.

        • Camila Sanmiguel

          damn i can’t stop listening to this. you are so sweg, dude

  • Ilia

    Last year I took a class about environmental psychology and my final task was to do a campaign to improve some environmental problem. I choose littering behaviour in a park, and the cheapest activity I figured out was to hold a painting contest -on the sidewalks, trash cans and park benchs, so that people could express about what they think about the park. So I needed paint, brushes, posters, diplomas, gifts for the winners, and volunteers to help me get things straight at the event. The only thing I had to do was to ask friends to help me. I explained that the goal was to improve a park, because it was an important place for the community etc… I didn’t have to pay a pennie. Some people give me money to buy the paint, and print the posters,, others donated books, toys, and other articles for the gifts, I got the volunteers after I spoke to the president of the neighbourhood and explained him my idea, they even send messages so that people ask others to go. We got 120 kids painting things at the park, some of them were beutiful indeed, The paintings are still there and people is more careful with the area -well a little bit more-.

  • Wayan Manikan

    Back when me and a couple of mates were in a band together due to youthful naïvety & the tendency for our jams to be booze & bong fuelled flusters of sound; we literally never had money even though two of us were working. So when equipment broke down or needed replacement we ended up borrowing from our collective friends, families, friends families, families friends & each other till it got to the point that all this gear that we used was never owned by the ones using them i.e. the drummer owned the guitar amp, the bassist loosely owned the guitar, the guitarist owned the bass amp, the guitarists mum owned the leads etc. and i do understand that this may or may not be commonplace but at the time it seemed so surreal, as no one knew who could claim ownership to what, and we assumed since we spent all our earnings both personal and generated by the band on fuelling the bandmembers with their particular poison, generally cheap goon or greenery. In the end these were some of the fondest moments of my life and i’d like to thank everyone that chipped in to give pirn a fighting chance and enable our addictions

  • L.

    My boyfriend had to spend a year abroad for his studies (we’re french). I hated college, and I was pretty much done, so I decided to go with him. He ended up in a college in Uxbridge, north of London, because he failed to registrer for Toronto early enough. Anyway, I found an au pair job and left France before he did. He arrived, and was miserable. His university lodgings cost a lot more than he thought, and he wasn’t going able to support himself. No way to find a job, either. I was miserable as an au pair in my first, filthy rich – huge-ass house in Wimbledon, and they fired me after 3 weeks because “I didn’t look happy enough”.
    So, I stayed at his place, a tiny bedroom with a tiny bed on campus, scared of being caught, but whatever. I found another job, in another family close by. Got 80 quids a week for dealing with a little brat, but I decided to keep living with my boyfriend, on campus. Even though it wasn’t allowed.
    I needed the psychological support. He needed the financial support.
    It was a long, hectic, hard year, but we truly, litterally were each other’s support system. And we only understood it way later, but that was way cool.

  • Julie

    I’m currently studying literature abroad with the money my grandmother left me. When she was young, she went to the U.S. for a year to study art (which was the longest stay she could afford, even though her American relatives let her live in their house). She was always very passionate about art, and never stopped painting. She passed away before I finished school, but I know that she would have been very happy that I’m spending the money pursuing a degree that is far from vocational and that I only do because I have a passion for reading and writing. Perhaps if she herself had received more financial support she could have focused on her art instead of becoming a teacher, but I hope that she remembered to be proud of inspiring her students to create even though she never became a professional artist herself.

  • Aarslan

    1. My first patron in theatre told me the first day to steal 30 percent of the money from the bar, as a direct payment. He was a magnificent comedian, to.
    2. My first editor (i hadn’t so much) was searching for me in a Soulfly concert ; i met a giant long-haired troll, asking in a deep voice : “So, you write ?” It was a consequence to have offer a first hand-made exemplary of my little book to each of my friends.
    3. I’m sure i’ve wounded my left hear 3 days ago, (stupid), mixing badly a song during a whole night and half-a day, for a underground crew who are the first people in my life asking for a song from me, to be in an album with other obscures projects. Too excited. Too much self-pression. (And maybe i’m better when i’m working less.)

  • bamahippie1

    January last year I quit writing for money to write what is very slowly becoming a book. I sit in the same coffee shop — the only one in my town — three or four mornings a week (it’s impossible to write at home) for a couple of hours at a time, nursing one Americano because it’s the cheapest espresso drink I can get. I am costing my family money by doing what I’m doing, like many of us are, I guess. A couple of months ago, a friend who occassionally stops to chat with me casually slipped me a coffee gift card. I like this woman immensely but I don’t know her very well; she seems interested in the fact that I keep showing up with my massive ancient laptop to brood and tap at the counter, and it makes me feel less alone to know she’s around. I expected the card to be five, maybe ten bucks. When I used it the next day I found out it was $50. She hasn’t seen a word I’ve written. She just wants me to write. That encouragement is so much more important than the coffee she bought me.

  • Stevie Bej.

    Last year I set up a trip abroad for me and a guy I have been seeing for a while. A week and a half before the flight he called me up and told me he was bailing, on the advice of his ex girlfriend. First thing I did was to tell the douchebag to get out of my life, second thing was to call my best friend who I haven’t seen in a year and tell her to pack her bags.
    Ive seen her for the first time after a year when I came to her house before the flight. Her wrists were filled with scars and she told me my call had saved her and she didn’t know what she would have done. She has been deeply depressed after her spine broke in a dumb drunk accidental story high fall. Her mom drove us to the airport and a few hours later we were headed to Amsterdam.
    She is the best artist I know, that soul sister of mine (and that’s a lot to say since I am an artist, surrounded by artists and the daughter of a wonderful wonderful artist) She dosen’t make accurate portraits or still life and stuff. She draws very unique, personal sketches, and beautiful paintings. She has a real signiture. I admire her.
    One of those days in Amstedam, when we were not to stoned to have a honest conversation, I spoke to her about her talent. Seriously, she is the only person alive that’s not me that I really want to design a tattoo for me. She can be something big. She can MAKE IT. I told her – Fuck “wasting you life away” and shit. I didn’t mind her drug addiction (apart from being constantly anxious from the thought something would happen to her). I really didn’t mind her squating or not working – I wish I was cut out for this life. But I hate the fact that she was not making art. So I made her promise me to make art. In return for this trip which she claimed had saved her life. I told her that if she made art – for the world to see – in whatever way she thought was right (get a degree in art, go to a non-academic school, start a blog, become a tattoo artist, I really didn’t mnd)., I would scratch every last NIS to make this an annual thing. I realy meant it. she agreed.
    I wish I could say she kept her promise, and we were planning our next trip. She didn’t, But she is doing better, and that’s even more important than art. But writing this made me decide to remind her of our deal, and put it back on the table. so thank you for that Amanda, maybe next year I will tell that story a bit more proudly :)

  • T.

    I’d just got off the phone to my mother, she’d told me she didn’t have money to pay for singing lessons anymore. I was devastated. A stranger walked up to me and said “I overheard your conversation and I want to help” He handed me $50 and his phone number and told me to call when I needed more money for a lesson. I never did, although I wish I’d built up the courage to call up and thank him.

  • pinkberry

    In Switzerland this Idea is under consideration:
    If the people will accept the initiative the country would start paying every adult
    (whether they work or not) a salary of over $2000 per month, based on
    the idea that the citizens will have more time to devote to things
    they are intrinsically interested in, instead of spending the majority
    of their time worrying about how they are going to survive.

    A friend and I started this sort of crowdfundingy thing: monthly a few people we know and trust put whatever amount of cash they like into a joint bank account and then the sum is splitt equaly amongst all the participants. The key idea is to try to disolve the barriers between the ones earning more and the ones earning little (since those differences are imposed upon us by the economic system and create unhealthy inequality: so let’s get together and work towards more equality) – and also to give without asking something in return. It’s up to each and everyone how to give something back: eather share a picture how happy you as a music lover are with your first good headphones you couldn’t afford before or give each one copy of your little books you could finally print/produce or simply buy good food for a start. I’m sure the idea is not new, but I think it should become a common thing. Since I’m not on the financially bright side of life I’ll be profiting more than others – at least money wise. The challenge is, not to feel bad about accepting, since you know, the money was soley given to do good. And it makes me happy to give something in return. So all in all we want to disolve the barriers between worth in the sense of money and worth in the sense of sharing/giving something back.

  • Katja Schardoe

    not an artist of any kind. But I would like to share my story. I took a long time to fnish my bachelor degree. Partly beacause I am dyslect partly because I just did not know how to study. At a certain moment my goverment allowance stopped and my parants did not have that much money to help me out. That would have meant that I had to stop rellye close to finishing my study, or start working so much I would certainly have delayed my exams even more. Somehow I was given just enough money to finfish school with my parents paying my college money and a well paid graduation project. With the strickt order to finish college THAT SAME YEAR…

    That same year my maternal grandmother had died.
    My mothers family is a far from close family and my mom is defintly the black sheep. They where on speaking terms but that was it, it is more then some people could wish for but anyway. My moms family is not the warm heartly family. My grandfather and the youngest child died in WWII leaving my grandmother with three young childeren. And my mum was not her favorite child. Maybe because she remided her too much of her lost love.

    What I did not know…
    One evening, after my grandmother died, my uncle came to my parents house and pulled out a number of banknotes and gave it to my mom saying: this is your part of the heritage. Then he pulled out another number of banknotes saying this is my part of the heritage and this last bit of money is your sisters. We talked it over. All our childeren have finished school and we do not really need the money. So we decied that you should use it to make sure Katja finishes her education. But do not tell her.

    The day I graduated, almost with honor exect for one mark which was 1 point to low beacause of the dyslextia ;-), my parents told me this story….
    It is especially touching if you know that my mom never could finish her education because her ward had spent her college money and my grandma did not have enough money left after the two older kids had finished their education.

    Although we are still a very loose family and I have not seen them in many years I do know that if we need each other we arre there for each other. =) I am still very very happy to have been able to finsh my education and that I have a degree in Industrial design thanks to my family…

  • Tim V.

    I have the beauty, luck, joy, and pleasure of knowing some of the best people in this world. Over the series of the past 10 years, I have struggled with life’s setbacks and trials while trying to find myself musically. 3 years ago I lost my mother to a motorcycle accident. A small portion of the money I received from that I put toward my musical dream. Okay, instruments,… Check,…melodies,… Check,… A place to live and survive,… Uh oh. I have been playing music in touring acts in order to live, but have no actual home to sit, be alone, really figure out how to express my feelings. A block. A verbal expressive wall in my head that refuses to let me say things the way some of my favorite artists can. My friends have helped put me up for the past 3 years since my loss, but couch surfing leaves no privacy to create and write. As of late I met a woman named Lindsay. She heard some of my stuff and very much became interested in seeing me succeed in my endeavors. She has opened her home up to me, helped me get out of binds, and on top of that she puts up touring acts like its her job. She is hands down one of the most generous human beings I have encountered in all my years on the road. I am incredibly lucky to have such great people in my life who know that my goal in life isn’t to live off of their hard work,.. Instead they want to help some guy who they became friends with follow his dreams and goals and do what he always told his momma he was going to do… Make her proud.

  • cgleason

    My now-husband/then-boyfriend supported us both financially/emotionally when I realized I wanted to be doing a graphic design program and freelance part-time.

    This was especially amazing because a) we had both been laid off in the prior year, b) he encouraged/pushed me to get out of the job I eventually that was wreaking havoc on my mental health in order to do this, c) supported me emotionally as I went through recovery of said mental-health breakdown, d) took care of the house when I was neck-deep in class work, and e) took this all on while dealing with his own chronic illness.

    Needless to say, I would not be doing what I want to be doing in life if not for him.

  • Krissy Whasserface

    It’s kind of a long story but my grandfather has been a bit of a patron for me.

    We haven’t always had the best relationship; we were really close when I was a kid but when I was 4 my grandmother died of sudden cardiac arrest at a year later Grampa was re-married and it was kind of a big mess of poorly handled emotions and, I think, avoidance on his part. He kind of went from being a constant in my life to a ghost, and that was a lot of change for a kid to deal with. I used to cry because I felt usurped by my step-cousins since Grampa only went to family things for my step-grandmother and didn’t really keep plugged into us.

    I think when I graduated high school, he finally started to realize that I’d gone from being a little girl to a young adult and he’d missed a shit ton of it but he didn’t seem to know how to bridge the gap (or even try to) and I no longer had the time or proximity to make sure we still had visits….until I took up the guitar.

    It was a decision I made partly because I always dreamed of being able to play something, partly because I loved Bowie and wanted to play his songs, partly because I needed a creative outlet to help me put some joy into my life as I struggled through depression. Inadvertently, it was a decision that brought me and my Grampa closer than we’d been since I was 4. (He’s played guitar since 1940 something)

    I’d bought this shitty, warped, chipped guitar at a Value Village for $25 and I brought it to Grampa to see if he knew if it was any good and if he could tune it for me. He fixed it up as best as possible, tuned it, warned me that it was never going to sound great and that it would fall out of tune often, but that the massive distance between strings and fret-board would at least teach me to make a clear sound and quickly build up my finger strength. I bought that guitar in February and by the July it was so warped you couldn’t tune the G string without the string snapping (which Grampa found out when he tried to tune it for me).

    “We need to get you a new guitar, Krissy girl” he said. I was a broke uni student.

    “Guess I’d better start saving, then.” I said.

    A week or two later Grampa called my Mum to see if I could come over for a visit. A bit odd but I didn’t think much of it and agreed, just happy that he wanted a visit. He didn’t just want a visit, he’d bought me a brand new guitar so that I could continue learning properly and he told me that if I stuck with it, I would someday be given his 3/4 size 1950’s Martin as well. I was touched because it was more than a gift, it was one of the rare times Grampa was saying to me “I love you, I believe in you, you matter to me” He’s not always the best at saying that out loud but this gesture fucking screamed it.

    That guitar has been there for me when living with a manipulative roommate almost drove me insane, it was there to console me on the day I had a close call that made me realize I had no choice but to get help to manage my depression, it was there to celebrate every win and victory, to help me work through the stress and insanity of my final year of my BA and the grad school application process. It’s been the rock that my Grampa couldn’t be for me and it’s been the catalyst for a far better relationship with him because he finally had something we could share.

    We play music together, sing, talk about calluses, songs we like to play, we bicker about how to best play certain chords and swap stories of things we’ve seen in music stores but all of those conversations are really just our way of saying “I value you, you matter to me, I love you.”

    Our relationship finally got to a place where we could kind of understand each other and I think Grampa tries to be my patron because he feels guilty for the fifteen years where he couldn’t seem to be there for me. When he found out I was going to go to Grad school in Ireland, he mysteriously ‘found’ money my grandmother had set aside for me. When I got back from grad school and was utterly broke with no job prospects due to a shitty economy, he hired me to paint the soffits of his roof. When I wrote something that got published in my city’s newspaper, he clipped it out and showed it to all his friends and he’s always recommending books to me that he thinks will be good for my writing.

    That first little act of patronage snowballed and became so much more…I asked for a little help tuning a very nearly useless guitar and instead I got my Grampa back.

    Speaking of whom, he turns 80 today, I best give him a call and play Happy Birthday for him.

  • Matthew Kirshenblatt

    When I was in Undergrad, Gil Williamson of Mythaxis Magazine took a look at a story I wrote on the William Gibson Message Board, a story centred around someone ranting about Word Programs being changed, and asked if he could include it in his magazine. Ever since then, I have been contributing stories to his online magazine whenever the need arises and he hosts them all.

    The Sequart Organization also hosts, Retweets and Shares my articles about comics and comics-related issues (if you will pardon the latter pun, or embrace the double entendre as need be). Right now, at this time as I write for Sequart, and G33kPr0n Magazine, my parents allow me to live with them for $400 a month. This allows me to work on my craft, network and spread word of my writing.

    I think a lot of my help comes from those whom I write reviews and articles for as they spread my name around and links to what I’ve made (this includes Anthony, who loved my review of his Lunatic Heroes and, soon, I can add Beloved Demons to that list). I have a friend who has also offered to redesign some of my Mythic Bios website: to customize it a bit for me.

    This is the help I have been given and I can never get enough of it. :)

  • James

    Leading up to my last year of Uni I had to make the decision to no longer continue with my membership of the youth orchestra I had been a part of for many years. I had pretty much grown up in that group and some of my best memories are from being a part of it. I had worked my way up the ranks in various groups within the organisation and was finally the Principal Clarinet of their top orchestra.
    My parents had separated that year, and while we didn’t have a whole lot of money prior to that event, afterwards was so much more difficult. I couldn’t afford to pay for myself to go to Uni and continue to be in the youth orchestra and I could no longer ask my parents to support me as they were now trying to support themselves individually.
    Telling the orchestra I wasn’t going to be returning the following year was really difficult and I felt like I was abandoning this pseudo-family I was a part of. I was given no doubt that I was a valued member and they were certainly sad to hear I wasn’t coming back the next year. At first I tried to make out it was for reasons other than financial but eventually I came clean and just told the truth about my situation. It didn’t make it any easier or better but it seemed like the right thing to do.
    At the end of each year the orchestra organisation would put on a gala concert for all the groups to showcase what they achieved during the year. It was always a rather exciting event but for me it was hard.
    After we finished playing our set and left the stage I was pulled to the side of stage and told to wait. From the wings I could see the MC start talking about an arts bursary that is given each year in honour of a past member who had passed away. It’s given to a member who has shown dedication, commitment and excellence in music. Usually they present it to a younger member to encourage them to continue on their music education but as I was standing in the wings that evening I heard them announce it was being presented to me.
    I was pretty much in a complete state of shock and confusion and felt even more terrible for not being able to continue my own journey with them. I graciously accepted the award not really knowing why.
    As I walked off stage after receiving the plaque, I was confronted with the administrator of my orchestra and she was really excited. What I hadn’t realised after all of this was that the award wasn’t simply a recognition of achievement but it came with a scholarship for a full year’s worth of membership fees. It meant I was able to go back the next year and live my dream during what turned out to be a very difficult year.
    While it wasn’t necessarily something that had a huge impact in later life, it is still a show of support that has always meant a lot to me.

  • Amit

    I have a friend whose doing an MA in theater, and had to direct a play as her final assignment. She chose “Old Times” by Pinter, a play she had always known she wanted to work on. The work on the play lasted almost two years, with most of the production budget coming from her.
    A few of months ago, with the work almost done, she started a small crowdfunding campaign, giving tickets, posters of the play and cookies to whoever donated.
    She didn’t raise the full amount she hope for, but what she did manage also helped. I personally donated and went to the premier and was happy to be even a little part of such a great production.

  • Noyanhh Drome

    I’m a singer in Stereoheadphones. We recorded our first album two years ago, and somehow, we did it for free. It turns out that my guitar player works for a radio station selling adds, and he knows everybody in the state who is someone in the industry. He’s a nice guy, and he can sell anything to anyone. He met this guy (who is now our sound engineer) and he had a studio. He talked him into helping us, and he agreed to record everything. It took a year to finish the album though, but finally we did.

    Our first video, we had it done for free too. So, the band decides that it’s time to have our video from the song “Muérdeme”. We looked for a cute couple, but we found none. Then, I asked my hottest friend to be in the video as an actor, and we found a cute girl to do the same, so they could act like a couple. They were glad to do it for free, which was amazing. Then, we found two guys who love making and editing videos for whatever reason you may like, and so they were glad to do that for free, too. Then we found our director, who was a friend of my guitar player at the university. So basically, the band was the staff. We only had to pay for the gasoline the cars needed and for the make up, which was mine. But the post-editing part is the one that’s not done, yet. This is a little sad, considering that if we had paid for it, it’d be finished by now… or by last year, for that matter…. Let’s say we’re not wealthy enough to pay for what we want, and everybody would know that being a musician means that you become famous way much faster that you become rich.

    And early stories… I used to have a friend whose parents kicked her out, and she came to live with me for two weeks until she got married.

    My dad bought me my first guitar… I still suck at playing… But I shall learn!!!!

    My mom used to pay for my piano lessons years ago.

    I think the most important story was the very first album my parents got me. I think I was like 8 when they bought me this album – I cannot even remember which one was it. But I do remember that I felt that was the way to go. Music. That was it. That was what I wanted for my life. (No one in my family is a musician, so basically their first idea is “and how are you going to survive? Get a real job!”) So I think that was the very first support I had in order to be what I want to be. Cheesy, I know, but true.

  • Cassandra

    Recently my sister was trying to raise funds to go to eastern Europe with an international mission organization. This trip was what she really felt was her calling, but she wasn’t sure how she would get the money in time. Our parents invited her to speak at their church.

    This was the church all of us kids grew up in. But a few years back my sister had been terribly hurt by some individuals from that church spreading malicious gossip about her, and hadn’t really been back since. She really needed help, though, so she came and shared her mission, and the church took up a special offering for her.

    We had expected the result would be a few hundred dollars. But she walked out of the door that day with her trip completely funded.

    Never in my life have I witnessed such a staggering and immediate outpouring of generosity.

  • Vania

    I started playing violin when I was 5 years old because my mother grew up playing the piano and it was important to her that her children learned and shared her love of music. (Apparently I also approached her in the kitchen one day, saying “I wanna do dis”, while imitating playing the violin). We didn’t have much money growing up, but somehow my parents always managed to keep my weekly lessons going.

    By the time I was 11 years old, I had grown big enough to play a “full sized” violin – the standard, real violins that adults play. I absolutely fell in love with one that had a lot of history, or what seemed like it to me at that age. Was made before world war II? Roamed Europe with Gypsies?! Survived the Nazis, ended up in Israel only to not be played for years and be handed straight to me. It felt like she would move with me, in the music. I had to have her, she was the one for me, she spoke to me. But… No money. My parents couldn’t afford to buy that violin. There were discussions as to whether or not they could “hold off” on buying another violin – any one, let alone THAT one. (“Is she really big enough for it?”).

    I don’t know for how many weeks the issue stayed in limbo, but my 12th birthday was starting to roll around and word about this violin got out to the rest of my family. My grandmother – who lives on the other side of the continent – helped my parents pay for it in the end. (I suspect they might’ve borrowed some money from other family members as well).

    Almost 13 years later, I still have her with me. I stopped playing for 8 years and recently started lessons again. She’s not the best sounding violin and while I could always sell her to help pay for a better one some day, I’d rather save up the couple of thousands instead. That violin has been with me through thick and thin, is a physical representation of some of the sacrifices my parents and family have made for me over the years and while no one may ever understand it, there’s no material belonging of mine that means more to me in the world than it does.

  • Katie @ A Mother Thing

    After my ex-husband and I decided to divorce, I met my new partner online. Knowing each other only 6 weeks, I told him how much I hated my job and working 9-5. He shrugged his shoulders and asked what I wanted him to do about it. I jokingly said, “Let me move in with you and make art all day long.” He immediately shrugged again and said, “Sure. Let’s do it.” I quit my job and moved in. He gave me a huge shed (with electricity and everything) to set up a home studio and told me to follow my dreams. I spent my days drawing, painting, listening to quality music, teaching myself guitar and writing 3/4 of a book that I am still trying to finish. We are now married with our third child on the way, and he still goes out of his way to let me pursue any creative endeavor I please. I haven’t had a real job since I met him but have never felt so fulfilled.

  • Guilherme Eddino

    I’ve been a singer/songwriter for about ten years. Around 2007, I had a friend in college and one day, out of the blue, I found out that her mother was a singer as well. More than that, she had been pretty famous back in the 80’s as a singer/pianist and with a cabaret-oriented repertoire (and as we’re talking about Brazil, that’s saying a lot). Her setlists mixed stuff like Gershwin, Kurt Weill, Amy Winehouse and Caetano Veloso in a single concert. By that time she was not as famous, but still recording and performing. And to top it all: she was teaching singing lessons.

    I was kinda starstruck at first, but I eventually enrolled in her classes. I studied singing with her for more than two years, which allowed me to develop immensely. And I also became a good friend of hers as well, getting to be invited to her house parties and other events.

    Around that time I had been flirting with the idea of recording an independent album, my debut. I remember distinctly: I was at one of her parties and she was lounging in the backyard. I asked her as if she was some sort of oracle: “do you think I should do it?” She looked into my eyes and said: “Go for it. You have to do it.”

    Some time later (or before, I’m not really sure), my parents and me went to one of her concerts, in a small theatre here in São Paulo. The night was being beautiful, but at a certain moment in-between songs, she said:

    “I would like to take this moment to talk to someone who’s in the audience. Guilherme, are you there?”

    I froze. But a second later, my shivering voice yelled “here!”

    She proceeded: “I would like to dedicate this song to my friend Guilherme, who’s a great artist. You’re all gonna hear about him soon. And Guilherme, never ever give up.”

    The song was Tom Waits’ “Time”.

    Long story short, about 18 months later I had finished my debut album (and I’m about to record my second album). And she sang a duet with me on the last song. I owe her a lot for all the support she has given me.

  • Meggi K

    My Grandparents set up a trust with the proceeds from the sale of an original Haydn manuscript, which pays for music lessons for her kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids, etc. Good story.
    Back in the day, when my Mum was, you know, a lot younger, she went backpacking around NZ, visiting the relatives. One of them handed her a document, telling her to keep it safe and give it to her Mum when she got back. So she traipsed around NZ with what she thought at the time was a copy of a Haydn manuscript.
    Anyhoo, long story short, it was discovered a while later that the document she’d shoved in her backpack was, in fact, an original manuscript, penned by the man himself.
    Years later, my Grands decided to sell the manuscript and used the money to set up a family trust to pay for music education for future generations.

  • Diana

    My story isn’t very interesting, but you said boring too, so here you go. My parents are immigrants. They came here with nothing and busted ass to get where they are. Education, the formal, go to college and get a degree kind, was their key to a better life and that’s all they wanted for their kids. To have us finish some advanced degree and have a secure job. That’s what my sister did, and they were very proud.
    That is not even slightly what I did. I ran away with the renaissance faire just as soon as I graduated high school. Did that for ten years. They were pretty disappointed, but they never bailed on me. I moved to New Orleans and tried my hand at this formal education thing for awhile. They were very happy. Problem was, I hated it. I’m enormously well read. An autodidact since first grade. So I found the classroom intellectually stifling and often times my own knowledge in the subject was more advanced just because I had read so much about it. They were massively bummed when I decided to drop out. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I moved back home because I was now broke. And they could have told me to fuck off. I know I disappointed them. But they didn’t. They gave me my old room and waited to see what I’d do.
    I’m not sure when I made the decision that I was going to be an artist. Lord knows there was no indication that I’d be any good at it. I was working for this psycho at a screen printing shop and I was miserable. All I knew for sure was that something had to change.
    I had been a leather worker at ren faire, but that’s a different pony. I’d never learned to draw, never been to school for art. Didn’t really know what the fuck I was doing. But I made some stuff, threw up an Etsy page, tried my hand at a few small art shows. And it worked. People liked my shit. So I registered a business name, got legit with the Man and applied to art shows. My parents let me clean out the entire basement for a workshop. It’s all mine to fill with my oddities. Mom doesn’t get why I’d cover a buffalo skull with glitter and Mexican milagros. She doesn’t even like it. But when I wanted to apply to extra shows my second season, she gave me the cash to cover the fees. I didn’t even ask for it. She just said, “You’re my baby. Of course I’ll help”. I fucking cried.
    So that’s it. No bells and whistles. Just really supportive parents that don’t really dig what I do and don’t even kind of get it, but they want me to follow whatever bliss I need to, and have supported me the whole way.

  • poetoaster

    A friend and I will sometimes perform a capela stuff downtown- folk songs, hymns, that sort of thing. We put a hat out but mostly just do it because we love singing, we love performing, we love people. Once, this past Christmas, she and I went with a few friends to stand out and carol (no hat out- it’s Christmas!). But some people still insisted on giving us money. One homeless man stopped to listen, and we talked with him for a bit. “What’s your favorite Christmas carol?” we asked. “Silent night.” He told us. We started to sing, and he stood there, eyes closed. Toward the third verse he set a $10 at our feet and just walked away, nearly derailing our singing (we were sort of crying at that point). It was an incredible moment, and a reminder that this was an even exchange. That we had given something to this man, and he wanted the dignity of giving back.

  • Abagail Link

    I started college three years ago at a tiny expensive private college, knowing that I had to be a musician, but not sure in what capacity. I also didn’t know enough about the school before I went there, which I regret now. The department turned out to be entirely theatre driven, which was great for some people. But I had a choral and orchestral background…that was what I loved. There were about 30 people in the entire department, most of whom were singers so…no choir and certainly no orchestra. I suffered through shows with incredibly cruel directors and tried so hard to want to be an actress, but I was constantly frustrated that we spent so little time standing around the piano, really working on the music. That was what mattered to me. No one else wanted to take more music theory or a conducting class, so they didn’t offer those. Did I mention how incredibly expensive this school was, too? (All in student loans, mind you.)

    I wanted to leave so badly, but I couldn’t easily transfer from a private to a public school. I had to come home and do my transfer work at a city college. But I had nowhere to live and, having been a full-time student entirely on loans, no job.

    For the last few weeks of the semester, I anxiously asked everyone I could. Couches are fine for a week or so, but not for a whole year. My parents and their spouses hemmed and hawed over whether or not they would take me, but I knew they wouldn’t. Finally, I got a call from a woman at my church back home. She and her husband had a spare room and I was welcome to stay in it as long I needed to. The rent I pay is absurdly low, it’s really sort of a token so she can tell people I pay it. I don’t have a car, so when I wanted to join a choir and an orchestra, she happily volunteered to take me to rehearsals. We sit down to dinner together every night and she hems my dresses and included me in her Christmas letter this year. I never even had a situation like this in high school. It’s strange and sweet and safe.

    This year, I’ve been able to prepare for my first major voice recital. I’ve been in two choirs and an orchestra, one of which I get paid for. And I’ve written some really good music, stuff I’m really happy with. And next year…I get to finally end up where I want to be. (Which, as it turns out, is in Music Education. That should have been obvious a long time ago.) If it hadn’t been for this incredibly generous couple, I probably would have stayed at my old school and tried to be a Broadway star and failed miserably. These people, who barely knew me before, have now made my future possible.

    • Camila Sanmiguel

      *tear wells up in eye* this is so beautiful, man

      are you still in contact with her? and is it possible for me to hear some of your music? <3

      • Abagail Link

        yes, i am! i moved out a few months ago but haven’t moved to the new school yet, so i still see her at church and keep her updated on things. she’ll be at my voice recital on friday!

        and you can hear some music here…the one song on the home page is new, the rest isn’t all that new. i have yet to finish recording other things :S

  • nivere

    This is a story about a gift that gave me leverage, so I guess that’s like patronage. In my mid-20s, I was working as a barrista in San Francisco. I had dropped out of college (midwest, bored) and moved to SF with no real skills or ideas about what to do. But I loved reading, writing, and words; always had. I wanted to go into editing or writing, but didn’t know where to start, and didn’t have much career confidence at that point.

    At the cafe where I worked, we had loads of great regular customers. (It was Farley’s, in Potrero Hill; check it out sometime.) One fellow I used to kibitz with was Ed, a tall, lanky older fellow who, retrospectively, I realize was rather charmed by me, in a civilized, friendly sort of way. (He was married.) We often talked about language and writing and usage — and one day we discussed David Foster Wallace’s article ‘Tense Present: Democracy, English, and the Wars over Usage’ (I know, AWESOME, right?), which had just been published in Harper’s. Wallace reviewed at length a then-new book, A Dictionary of Modern American Usage. I mentioned to Ed how interested I was in this book, that I had ordered a copy from the bookshop on the next corner, in spite of its being a pricey hardcover reference book.

    When I went to pick up the book, I discovered that it had already been paid for. It could only have been Ed.

    It touched me. Friends would often say that I had a way with words, or should try to write. But for someone I didn’t *really* know to monetarily demonstrate support for my passion (since the gift was underpinned by a tacit acknowledgement that barristas don’t make much dosh), gave me encouragement on an entirely different level. Ed believed in me enough to make an investment.

    And when I later found work as a proofreader, editor, and writer, I used that book *all the freaking time.* I recently updated to the 3rd edition, but I will always keep my heavily thumbed and sticky-noted 1st edition in my archive.

    I hope that was the kind of thing you were looking for!

    Oh, and I am still working as a proofreader. And I do books. Just saying.

    Bon courage! Also, you are my hero and I love you.

    xo Gwenivere

  • Jasmyne

    I supported my husband (then-boyfriend) through his bachelor of medical science, honours degree and PhD by working a horrible, horrible customer service job I hated (but which paid really well) to pay off the mortgage and all of our bills. He also worked part time to pay for holidays and our wedding. Now he’s a molecular biologist and working on embryo development, and our roles are completely reversed; he supports me while I study music. It took 6 years to finally be pursuing what I’ve always wanted to pursue, but I’m very proud of my husband and I think it was worth the wait.

  • Emily McDougall

    I am an artist; I call myself that now at least. I spent my four years of my undergraduate degree with my head down and not pushing for help from tutors, pushing for friends or pushing for my artwork to get noticed. I struggled through it emotionally, feeling inadequate – always. I regret this to a certain extent, however, a series of miserable events in life have lead me to find what I am passionate about. It unfortunately took the death of my best friend for it to click in my head – stop being miserable. This is a gift I have been granted by her… in a very backwards way. Her suicide made me realise that I could not go on being miserable. I found my muse for my artwork as well as seeing the world in full blown colour again.

    With some fire in my gut, I worked my hardest, I applied and got into my Masters degree in Medical Art (biomedical illustration I think it is called everywhere except the UK) and was recommended to apply for a scholarship. With little expectation, I applied for it and have had a large majority of my tuition fees paid for. It was the first time I realised that I can be good enough.

    I now get to spend every week doing what I love – exploring, illustrating, seeing, painting, drawing, sculpting, touching, learning, visualising anatomy. everything that makes me, and everyone, human.


    • Scott Moore

      Declaring yourself as an artist to the world is a powerful act. I did it tentatively at first. Now, without apology it is the first thing out of my mouth. This world needs more artists. Thank you for being one.

  • Jessica Berry

    I’ve had a lot of help over the years and I’m so thankful for it. August last year I was shooting a birthday event for a friend and I had all my camera equipment stolen (I’m a photographer) both my lens, my camera, my flash, and my sd cards one of which had a job on it that i had shot the night before. Completely gone 2 weeks before I was moving to a different state to go to art school for the first time. I was devastated, but everyone was amazing! The sd card I lost with the job on it was for a live show of a bunch of local artists and every single one of them put posts up trying to find who took my camera, on craigslist and all over the town it was stolen at. It was never returned, but their willing to help me got me through it. Someone I used to work for let me borrow one of their older DSLR camera for an entire 7 months after I moved so I could have a camera for school and another friend gave me one of their film cameras. I have no idea what I would have done without their help.

    After those 2 weeks I jumped on the megabus with my duffle bag of stuff to start my move to Virginia, but when I got here something had gone wrong with my paper work and the school. I was supposed to have been moved into a dorm, but at that moment they couldn’t find anything on me. I ended up meeting someone that day who let me stay on their couch for a few days until I find an opening for a place on craiglist and moved into the place the next day.

    Just last month even, fiber paper (supplies for darkroom) can cost $100s of dollars. I had a stranger contact me from my tumblr blog and just gave me 25 sheets and film completely for free. It was amazing, because I’m struggling right now to pay for my living expenses and school supplies. Everything is working out though. I’m bills every month and I couldn’t do it without amazing people like these. I became friends with a girl named Ashlie, she is the head of the local produce department of a local grocery store and she saw how much I was struggling for food and now friday delivers to my door the produce they can’t sell anymore so I can have fresh vegetable and fruit.
    People are really amazing and they constantly teach me that if I’m able to give back whenever I can.

  • Randy Zack

    My parents paid for my college education in an interesting way. (And that of all my siblings. But I’ll just tell my story.)

    First, they only paid for 4 years, regardless of how long it took me to graduate. It actually took 5, and then I went on to get a PhD as well, taking another 6. But they only paid for the first 4.

    The amount they gave was based on my GPA. Back in 1977, the best you could get was 4.0. So their deal to me was to pay $1500 + $500 * GPA. The first year of college was based on my senior year of high school, the second year of college was based on my freshman year of college, etc.

    At the time, tuition + room and board + books came to about $3000 / year at the University I attended. So with a 3.0 GPA, I could pay for everything, but have no spending money. With a lower GPA, I had to come up with some money myself. And with a higher, I had some extra cash to spend. So that was the incentive.

    After three years, I had held various jobs in the University, eventually becoming a teaching assistant, at which point I no longer needed anything from my parents. But without that initial push, and the incentive it provided, I’m not sure I would have made it that far.

  • Sophie
  • Alice Bremner Watt

    My dad’s dad, my Grandad Jim, died when I was almost 10. He and my grandma had just decided to pay for piano lessons, because I’d always been obsessed with my grandmas piano (she was an organist). I could pretty much listen to, then mimic back melodies before I started lessons but I learnt so much technique and so many skills and practically applicable knowledge. It also reminded me of my grandad, which was nice because I don’t remember very much about him anymore but I always remember that. My whole family was always so supportive of my interest in music, and I know that that isn’t always the case, and I know that I am lucky. I hardly play at all at the moment, for a few years now after getting over some things that got in the way. But I know that it’s like riding a bike, and that I could sit down today and play something I learnt ten years ago. That to me is invaluable, and that’s what my grandparents, and parents, and everybody gave to me.

  • Cherry

    My mum pays for almost everything I do and will till I graduate. But I have a few bad habits which I don’t want to pay with my mom’s money, it just feels wrong. So, I pay for pot, alcohol and all my starbucks drinks with money I make for showing my tits to strangers on the internet (also known as being a camgirl).

  • Peter Hallin

    For me this is never ending. From when my father lent me the money to buy my first guitar when I was 16, which I still have now 20 years later, to when I applied for a school for film acting (I’m an actor), they gave me a scholarship when I wrote that the tuition was too high for me to attend, to now recently when I’ve acted in a feature film that couldn’t have happened if we hadn’t been given free reigns to a fucking castle by a small town in Poland to shoot it in, with a place for cast and crew to stay at. I could go on. None of my creative endevours (and there have been plenty) could have happened without at least some help.

  • StarrHrdgr

    So, I did crowdfunding before pretty much anyone did in 2007 in Tulsa, Oklahoma for The Visit by Freidrich Durrenmatt. We raised 600 dollars for the show and it was pretty successful, not because it was funded for millions, but through that funding, we connected with people. Anyway, I was told over and over by many different people that I shouldn’t ask for money for projects, when their projects fundraised in a less crowdfunding more general type of way. The powers that be had cornered the funding to the point that it was accessible to anyone else. Well, long story short, I was able through a couple of different channels to launch a theatre show from that and a couple of more shows, and it went into a theatre season. There have been many times that I’ve sought funding, and people who tend to go to church every day and pass the plate with no worries can’t understand crowdfunding and want to belittle your work. I feel that when these people belittle your work, they don’t like that you’re doing something that they can’t do. Not that you’re asking for money for it. So long story short, I continue to fund! I continue to work toward great things. And I go confidently in the direction of my dreams. Whatever they may be this month. All the best to you and your book. From one performing bum to another.

  • Arturo Cervantes

    I was a drummer in a Beatles tribute band in Mexico a few years ago and we were really lucky when it came to support. We started rehearsing at an old man’s guitar shop. He let us rehearse there and he even let us borrow his electric guitar when we couldn’t afford one. Later we moved to my parents’ house and they let us rehearse in the room they usually rent for business purposes. It has a gate that opens to the street, so we would play with the gate open and the people in the street was able to listen to us. That got us a lot of gigs. We started playing in bars and restaurants for free, just to get our name out there and they would give us beers or dinner after the gig. We also had a contact that helped us get the same brand of instruments that The Beatles played -John’s Rickenbacker, George’s Gretsch, Paul’s Hofner Bass, Ringo’s Ludwig. Those were fun times.

  • Guest

    So I grew up in a very abusive home. I have never known my father but my

  • Arturo Cervantes

    Also, recently I took up water-color painting. I was really excited about learning because I love drawing but I’m very bad at coloring with pencils or markers. My sister’s boyfriend gave me a water-color kit and some brushes for christmas and my dad bought me special paper. I’m so happy now that I’m learning :D

  • carmen_sandiago

    I don’t know if this is the sort of thing you are looking for but it is the biggest help I have ever gotten so I might as well post it. I grew up in a very abusive home. My father had been incarcerated for most of my childhood, for making methamphetamine. My mother had a substance abuse problem as well. She also had other serious un-diagnosed mental illnesses resulting from being literally tortured physically, mentally, and sexually as a child. When I was eleven I just stopped showing up to school. I didn’t like it so I saw no point in going. That whole year I spent all of my time at my neighbor’s house. She was a 22 year old raising her 15 year old younger sister who had massive behavioral problems. The next year they moved away and while visiting her I started crying about some new horrible thing my mother had done, the women I was visiting then offered to take me in. I have lived with her since. I am eighteen now and will be going off to college very soon. I can never describe how grateful I am that someone so young would have enough kindness to just take me in when I felt so lost and alone. She has been a best friend, mother, and an indescribable role model for me. That’s the kind of patronage that completely altered the state of my life.

    • Guest

      that is beautiful <3

    • Camila Sanmiguel

      that is fucking beautiful <3

  • Ariel

    My Mum, sister and I have always been pretty poor. Not begging poor because my mum worked really hard to make sure we were alright, but not rich enough for much. I am lucky enough to have grown up in a very supportive place. I grew up on a little Island in the Hawkesbury River, about 1 hour north of Sydney.

    I lived there from the ages of 1 to 21, after which I moved off to live with my boyfriend. During that time, my childhood, adolescence, teenagerdom and a little adulthood, me and my family were the recipients of so much kindness. The friends I grew up with there are like my family, they are my brothers and sisters and I cherish them.

    One such woman, whom I greatly admire and who passed away recently basically saved my family: Sue. She was our next door neighbour and me and my sister were really good friends with her son. She painted all the Island kids faces for Halloween. She was a kind and loving woman.

    One of the greatest things she ever did for our family was look after me and my sister while my mum was in rehab for heroine addiction. We stayed at her house for a few weeks while our mum was away. She never asked mum to repay her even though she didn’t have tonnes of money either. She never complained about it because she only wanted my mum to get better. She was always there for our family. I knew I could talk to her about anything I needed to.

    When I turned 18 she gave me an incredible present: about 20 paintbrushes and some art books. Some of those brushes would have been $5 each. It was an expensive gift. But the greatest gift I ever got was from both of these women: My mum and Sue. Both of them were there for me, both believed that I was smart, that I could do anything I wanted and that I had the drive to do it. Both of these women, single mothers, helped me to become the feminist and free thinker I am now.

    And that’s better than money.

  • Derek_anny

    I know a Dionysian who would occasionally fund his religion/rituals by offering his writing. You could buy short stories, poems, articles, and that money would go towards honoring the God.

  • Dolly Rot

    I make clothes. Mostly skirts. I just drank a shit ton of tea and beaded
    and sewed my ass off these past couples days, in fact! My mind is
    constantly like a computer browser with 2,000 tabs open up at once, it’s
    insane. ANYWAY – I have a hard time asking for anything. I never ask
    anyone for help with more materials or space. I just make it happen. I
    dumpster dive everything. I sit on the beach, in a grassy park, under a
    bridge by the railroad tracks and just let the art flow and sometimes
    people just bring me things. But i never seem to ask. The dumpsters
    always provide me with what i need, and i never seem to ask the
    dumpsters for anything. Why would i? I just take. take. take. And make.
    make. make. art.

  • Lucy

    I don’t know if this counts as
    patronage, but here goes. When I was 21, my apartment building burned
    down and I lost everything but the slippers and bathrobe I got out of
    the building in. One of the things I lost was my violin, a cheap
    student instrument that I’d learned to play on. Still, I was very
    attached to it, like you get with instruments, and I was totally
    miserable that I’d lost it. So two months later, when I got a call
    from my old landlord saying that the fire department had cleared us
    to walk through the charred remains of the building to look for
    anything we could salvage. The floor was strong enough to walk on,
    but the ceiling was totally gone. I went just to see if there was
    anything left of my old violin that I could keep for sentimental
    value (or that I could turn into art somehow)

    I found the case all blackened and half
    melted together, but still intact. I chipped it open with a pair of
    shears and was surprised to find the body of the violin mostly
    intact, although the varnish had bubbled in several places. This was
    late fall in the middle of Quebec, where the winters get ungodly
    cold. In the two months since the fire, the violin had been rained
    on, then frozen, and I had to carefully melt/remove ice from the body
    of the instrument. As you can expect, it was not in good shape.

    I got a little insurance for the fire,
    and my parents kindly agreed to contribute the remainder, so I went
    to the luthier to buy a new cheap violin to replace the old one. I
    brought the mangled violin case, blackened and held together with
    duct tape, and explained to the luthier about the fire. “Look, this
    thing is probably worthless at this point, but just in case, could
    you maybe take a look at it?” He listened to my story, glanced at
    the violin for like two seconds, then looked back at me. “Tell you
    what. I’ll give you a trade-in on it.” He valued the trade in at
    almost exactly what I’d paid for it when it was new.

    Now, I’m not a luthier, but I’ve had it
    drilled into me again and again to be very, very careful with these
    instruments. Never let water touch them, never let them get too cold
    or too hot, the humidity has to be kept within a certain range or
    they will warp… this thing was at the heart of a raging building
    fire for hours, it was soaked through with rain, and then frozen
    solid for months at -20 Celsius and colder. The varnish was
    destroyed, the bridge warped beyond recognition, the tailpiece rusted
    and twisted… There is NO WAY it was worth what he gave me on that
    trade in. It may not have been worth anything at all. He just gave me
    that trade in to be nice, because I’d lost my violin. It was
    basically a gift of several hundred dollars towards my new violin,
    and the nicest thing a stranger has ever done for me.

    With the money I’d collected, plus the
    trade-in, I bought an absolutely gorgeous, high-quality instrument,
    far better than the one I’d had. The difference in sound is
    astronomical, it’s so warm and sweet and beautiful, and it’s my
    absolute favourite thing in the world.

    • ANon

      Hey are you that lady from Arcade Fire?

      • Lucy

        I am not. Does the lady from Arcade Fire have a similar story?

  • Alicia Deven

    Another starving artist over here… I had no money (as well) and was going for a featured day player on a feature film starring Kurt Russell. The audition was the biggest potential to get on a union set aaaaaand I had no headshot. No money to pay anyone. No headshot equals no foot in the consideration door.
    A very kind acquaintance ran into me at a mutual friend’s apartment. Talked about art, film, and the subject of lack of resources and the reason behind sadness came up.
    He wanted to help. I could not have been more shocked. This guy was known for his photography. And out of all people, he wanted to reach out to an unknown artist. We shot, we connected. I auditioned, I got booked.
    Without his kindness and heart, I most likely would not be able to say I am now a SAG-AFTRA actress. Fucking awesome.
    Thanks for reading, if you even get to it, thank you. You are my biggest inspiration. Thank you for listening to us.
    “What Would We Do Without Amanda Fucking Palmer”
    Love, Alicia Deven

  • Lucero Rodriguez Iglesias

    One of my first dance teachers held her classes at a small studio in her house. She’s a great dancer and an incredible instructor and we hitted off right away. At some point she stopped charging me for the lessons and i would instead bake something to eat with a cup of tea after class or buy her some food.

    She was always ultra supportive of my dancing and my career and she pushed me foward over and over again. When I started teaching my own class (after she had convinced me I was ready for it) she let me use her home studio for free, and told me I could pay her when I had a regular group of students.

    I have been teaching there for over 2 years now and I have never payed her a cent. The coolest thing about that is that it allows me to teach people who really need the classes, mostly the emotional and spiritual outlet that dancing in a safe environment is, but often arent able to pay for them with money.

    I have had the most awesome retributions for this classes i have given for “free”. From one of my students paying me in hand knitted crochet stuff to people coming back months after they have stopped coming to class to give me some money because they have finnaly got a job.

    I just love how my original mutual supppr relationship with my teacher has multiplied into so many beautiful economic and emotional support relations.

    I could also talk about the relationships that formed between my students, but that shoul be another post

    • Lucero Rodriguez Iglesias

      And by the way Amanda, THIS, this wonderful blog and your twitter madness has been an amazing patron for me in a way. Manly beacuse if I ever get discouraged or frustrated I just have to come back here and read all the awesome coments from all this awesome crazy artists from all arround the world. Indeed, we are the media.

      Thanks for being the most awesome incredible captain this pirate ship of artists could ever wish for.

  • Tom Steiger

    When I graduated from college my parents gave me $3k as a graduation present to buy my first car. It was the Reagan 80s, deficit spending was all the rage, and greed was good, so I took that $3000 and went out and found a $4300 car. My Mom covered the difference since I had no money. “It’ll be a loan,” she said, knowing it was a lie. “Just don’t tell your father.” Eight years literally below the poverty line in grad school were followed by three years as an academic post-doc making barely more than most fresh college grads. Then, finally, a gig as a professor allowed me to stop living paycheck to paycheck. By this time my parents – both public school teachers – had retired and announced they had gotten a good deal on a cruise and were taking a trip. I knew how cruises worked: they lure you aboard with cheap fares then nickel-and-dime you with the excursions. So that Christmas I handed my Mother an envelope with $1300 in it. She had honestly forgotten about the “loan” and was flummoxed. I hadn’t forgotten and had always intended to pay her back somehow, some day. Though I was well into my 30s at that point, handing Mom that envelope was the first time in my life that I really felt like an adult.

  • Heather Rivard

    My little sister and I produced and acted in a musical last spring to raise money for her to go to clown camp. It was dinner theater, and we did the whole thing in my apartment’s living room. We charged ten dollars, imagining a standard show-for-the-price-of-a-ticket operation. Funny, though, lots of people gave us more than that when they bought the ticket. Lots of people sent money instead of buying a ticket. One lady came, bought a ticket, then went home and mailed us $100 because she liked it so much. Amazing people.

  • deeza13666

    The one thing I wanted to do was meet you. I had this oppurtunity to do that in September last year.This happened largely due to your last minute add in of the Donuts package. I really wanted this, but at the time my husband and I were broke. My dear husband really wanted to purchase this package for my 40th birthday as the last few years had been struggle. Mark surprised me by borrowing the money from his boss and we paid him back over a period of time. I was extremely lucky to have such an amazing person who helped make my dreams a reality. I was mean’t to share this with you on the night but I never got around to it. I truly feel blessed to have such a wonderful man in my life and so lucky to have shared some of your time ♥

  • Manavjeet Kaur

    My painter friend Kay financed her trip to France by pre-selling paintings to people who liked her work. They paid her for the paintings before she painted them, then she spent several months over there using that money and painting. Voila`! Paintings presented when she came back home. We still have the painting she did for us framed and hanging in the living room. It’s one of my very favorites.

  • Peggy Brugi

    I come from a really small town in southern Poland, so when started daydreaming of making films as a little child everyone was just denying it with the words: “Filmmakers are from Hollywood, not from small towns like our”.

    Few years later I moved to Wroclaw to my secondary school and met my Marcus, who thaught himself everything connected with visual effects and now works for a best Polish 3d animation company. Because he has a stable financial situation he just simply gave me the money for the notebook and good video camera saying, that he couldn’t stand thinking of all years he spent fighting for his dreams at the same time working at some stupid places having no support and he doesn’t want me to loose stupidly my time. His belief and support helped me to start filmmaking and now I already have made some short videos and am on my way to become a documentary filmmaker.

  • Loner.

    I’m going to begin my story by telling you about my father. He never wanted me to grow up how I did, but here I am. He always tried [and tries] to make me go deer hunting with him, though I’ve declined since I could remember. He did support my musical abilities and bought me an electric Fender guitar when I was 10. I became very fond of it and strummed around on it for 5 years until a junkie stole it. When I had the opportunity to reclaim it, I didn’t take it back. Just hoped someone else would find it as useful as I once did. I’m not sure why I didn’t take it because it was probably sold for smack. When I told my dad about the guitar and how heartbroken I was, he didn’t seem to be phased. Within the next few weeks, he had gotten me a brand new acoustic guitar. I was very much in love with it. My sister and myself started making silly songs together and our oldest sister was always spiteful toward our closeness. One night, after a seemingly small argument, the eldest sibling picked up the guitar and smashed it off the floor sending splintering pieces everywhere, which is when I blacked out and smashed one of our mother’s “good” plates over her head. Whops. At this time, the area we lived was about as country as it could get, and the “friends” we had didn’t appreciate our style. We got made fun of all the time for everything we did. It never bothered me except when someone made fun of the music I created. I put everything into it, and even to this day it seems to cut the deepest to have such raw feelings be laughed at.

  • Becky

    I have been a patron of an artist friend since reconnecting years after working together in a foodcart in our 20s. My then-husband contacted her and commissioned her to paint a portrait for my birthday, having heard me talk about the interesting artist I once knew. She painted a portrait from a picture of him and me that only looked slightly like us. When we divorced some years later I traded her the painting for a different one she’d painted. She added some figures to canvas with my ex and I and sold it to someone else. She and I became good friends with her encouraging me to be more independent from men and picking out good-looking clothes for me at thrift stores and me buying art from her, mostly when she needed money for rent or a bill.

  • p.lynn

    I gave up my daughter for adoption. I gave her to a family that is honoring an open adoption so we get to see and speak as often as we like. They really like me and I admire them. My daughter is my work of art. The family helped me by helping with rent and groceries. They gave me the power to take control of my life and also in some ways hold on to my little girl. I am young and they have expanded my horizons. It’s pushed me to write and have a second chance with my life.

  • georgette

    Hi Amanda. This story is not so much about giving funding, but offering a complete stranger a safe place to sleep on a night where she had nothing and nowhere to go.

    For at least a solid year I was homeless and addicted to substances – Crack/Cocaine, Heroin, Methadone, you name it, I smoked it, injected it, stole it, sold it. I was 16/17 when I started using, and as a 17 year old girl I found it alarmingly easy to get my hands on free or cheap drugs. Especially if I was doing different sorts of ‘favors’ for the men that took turns housing me. After one particularly gruesome night I stumbled out of a dark basement sobbing and dressed in men’s clothing that hung from my emaciated body, and ran to the highway with no idea where to go or what to do.

    I felt used, ashamed, and hopeless.

    I waited at the bus stop for the first bus to stop and take me into town. I had no bus fare but the driver said nothing as I clambered to a seat and sat, hysterical, wondering what my next move would be. A man sat across from me and watched with pity as me, a tiny hungry and sad little girl curled into myself, snot and tears running down my face.

    He sat next to me and asked me what was wrong. I didn’t tell him the whole story but mentioned that I was “homeless” and “afraid” and “had nowhere to go”.

    He offered me his couch to sleep on. He worked nights in Langford and was heading home to sleep, himself. He offered me a cup of coffee.

    We transferred onto a bus to his house and upon arrival he set up a sleeping bag for me on his couch. He offered me food, water.

    I waited until he went to shower and I stole whatever I could find from his cupboards that I could sell later for drugs.

    I wish that I could thank him.

    I could have been raped again, forced to do anything. He gave me the option to sleep soundly. I have since then moved cities and I assume he doesn’t still live in the same suite. But I hope he knows how much that gift benefited me at that point in my life.

    I hope this story is relevant enough for you. Thanks for giving me the opportunity to share it, Amanda. <3

  • bb.

    I hope someone talks about ….

    • Mike

      I really like this site, I am a patron to about 16 artists. It makes me feel good to do something very concrete and real for other people to create value in this world (art).

    • SitsUnderWaterfalls

      I love this. Patreon and subbable (still in beta testing) are kinda my jams right now.

  • daniel haggerty

    Hi! So there are two very important facts in my tale ; I have played many instruments over the years in many groups & I have some of the best friends and family on the planet.

    When I was in high school I had this group of four (including me) friends that was so close that I consider them brothers. In fact the mother of one of them, of whoms home we were most often at, referred to us as her surrogate children.

    As years have gone on I have had a few crazy mishaps of which I’ve been able to lean on any of these families for help, but my surrogate mother is truly a second mom to me.

    In the last year ive moved away for college in staten island and at the same time my mom(biological) decided it was time to move back to San Diego to be with all my siblings. So I no longer had a home other than my dorm & no family to be around. But the part of me that was truly lost in this change was my artistic space: my old bedroom.

    For years I had been turning that little 10×10 space with one rounded wall into my personal recording studio. I managed to fit my bed in the closet so I could have an extra pull out couch for band mates in the room. I built up my desktop to have mixer inputs; I stacked amplifiers from floor to ceiling & even managed to get a full acoustic drumset to fit in there. It was my little paradise.

    But now its gone. & all that equipment needed a new home. As I needed a new home.
    My drums are with my drummer, my guitars all to different friends homes, some were given away & i kept my favorite guitar with me at school.

    But you cant record an album in a dorm room. Sound ordinances or some shit like that…. & I certainly cant fit all that gear plus what I need to live comfortably whilst study my mathematics into my little red civic. So my creativity has been stunted for now. So I am gathering experiences & gaining insight for now because as some devine plan might have it, my surrogate mother decided that I am to live in her house rent free, like one of her children until I’m out of college.

    So when I can, I drive up to albany & get the guys together in the attic & all is not lost.

    I don’t know how I’ll ever repay her, but I guess lending this story to you is a start.

  • uke_dilettante

    imo this is the most amazing uke rendition of RATM’s “killing in the name of”:
    unfortunately, the sound quality could be better, but still amazing – wish I had the chords/tabs

  • Bethany Pontsler

    When I was 20 years old and a sophomore in college, I had just switched majors from English to music. I decided I wanted to be a classical vocalist. Unfortunately, the next year, money was really tight, and I could not afford voice lessons. I auditioned for a music scholarship and got it, but there was a caveat. I had to take a specific set of music classes to be eligible, and I could not afford to take all of those classes.

    Already the teachers in the music department had been like second parents to me (some more stern, some more loving but all amazing musicians). My teachers took up a collection amongst themselves and paid for my classes that semester.

    It was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. It was so gratifying to know that these people believed in me that much. Not just peers and family, but musicians. These were the people I looked up to, idolized. These amazing people, who had no reason to care about just another student passing through the halls, pushed me to be my best with their selfless love. I see their act of kindness as an investment, and I plan to return on it to the absolute best of my ability.

    My first solo concert is in two weeks. :)

    • Scott Moore

      Your story touches my heart. May your concert be everything it is meant to be. Congratulations.

  • Toby Teh

    I’m a playwright in a country where few people write, fewer write in English, and theatre is a gig that gets no respect (especially English ones). The best patronage I got was an open mic gig for 15-minute plays by the local theatre house/academy, and let me tell you, I learned the hard and expensive way how important it was to have lighting, props, air-conditioning, chairs, and just a physical location where people knew and were comfortable going to.

    And the gig wasn’t just a place to produce shows. I got to practice my writing and watch crowd reactions and gain a lot of confidence in my work. It may seem like a material thing, but that little patronage had a huge impact on my belief that I could and should continue writing.

    I’m not sure if I can qualify this other thing as ‘patronage’. Being poor, with no training and without contacts, yet still wanting to put up shows in aforementioned open-mic gigs, I called upon friends and friends of friends and strangers I just met at workshops whether they wanted to act/direct/produce/come watch. To my surprise, I got a lot of people who said yes. In fact, about 90% of them said yes, even if they had zero experience. And with that, I produced show after show, and basically cut my teeth in the business through those shows.

    That was the kind of patronage I got. The kindness of strangers. I guess that’s the simplest and best kind of patronage anyone could ask for, really.

  • Lydia

    I have been consistently funded in some way pretty much my whole life.

    I live in the UK, and for I think the first ten years of my life my family lived entirely on benefits. In the UK right now, that is quite something to admit because people freaking hate people that live on benefits. There is no discussion of people going through difficult times – the general consensus is, if you’re on benefits, you’re a lazy scrounger and that issue, to most people I speak to, is entirely black and white. Like, people don’t even want ‘People On Benefits’ even living near them. Landlords won’t let People On Benefits live in their houses. It makes me crazy.

    So, my parents split when I was like 1. My dad has had pretty much zero interest ever since, financially and otherwise. My mum wasn’t working at the time he left, and decided not to go back. She wanted to stay at home with me and my brother while she could. My brother has autism and epilepsy, and while he’s well a lot of the time, when he isn’t (like at the moment, actually) he needs a lot of care. His epilepsy is pretty severe, and it makes him really ill. When he’s in a bad phase, you can’t leave him alone. Like, ever. So having a job would have been difficult.

    But honestly I don’t think that is even the point. The point is that, owing to the fact that my dad wasn’t around and the rest of our family aren’t exactly involved with us, if she wasn’t there to raise my brother and I because she was working crazy hours, we would have been raising ourselves. I would have been a full time young carer, which going on how difficult the part time doing it has been, I think would have made me a significantly more unhappy kid. So yeah. Benefits aren’t the devil. They are something that some families need to operate. What frustrates me most about telling this story, I think, is how people usually respond like ‘yeah but that’s just one individual situation’. I just think individual situations is what the world is made up of.

    So to continue that, I’m now at university. I’m studying English Literature and Creative Writing. I have a loan for some of my fees and grants for the rest and for my living. I also have a scholarship, which has been a very odd experience. When I first came I had to go and do a photo shoot with the rest of the scholarship kids holding up big signs that said thank you. I’m grateful for the money but it was… on the degrading side, actually. And then I had to go to this massive fancy (literally the fanciest thing I have ever been to. They had that weird tiny food) donors event for my university to talk about how grateful I was for my scholarship. And the guy funding me is totally terrifying. He’s nice and all, but just so intimidating. He clearly thought I was a massive idiot. And also totally unmemorable. He walked past me on campus a couple months ago and I made eye contact to say hi and he didn’t even recognise me. This guy is paying thousands of pounds towards my education and he didn’t recognise me. Weird. Very, very weird.

  • Stephi

    I teach special ed. Some time ago I found a couple of battered, old “tisch-harfen” (whatever the english word is for that …) in our schools’ basement. it’s some kind of an zither, and really easy to play, that’s why they’re ideal for the sped kids..
    So I took one of those and a girl from my class with me and went to our lokal musicshop, asking the guy what it would cost to refurbish the harps.
    He looked at the battered thing and said: “well, at least 100€.. that’ll be a lot of work..” that was kind of a downer, so i asked him to write a calculation of the costs and we would try to get the money maybe by fundraising..
    behind us was an other customer, who overhead the conversation. she looked at me an the girl (who was trying out litterally every instrument in the whole shop and was having a hell of a time :D), put 100€ on the counter and said “there you go! get the instruments refurbished for your kids!” what an awesome gif!!
    And when we got back to school, that girl, who was actually some kind of an outsider in class, suddenly became the hero. everyone was like: “wow! thanks to you, we’ll get new instruments! that’s great!” :D
    me and her grinning our heads of…

    • Bethany Pontsler

      We call it the same thing you do. A table harp or an autoharp. That’s so great. I hope the kids liked it. :)

      • ANon

        stories about zither always burn me up.. don’t they burn you up Marty?

  • Edward

    It’s a small thing, and I’m sure it’s not uncommon, but when I upgrade to a bigger fridge, newer computer etc. I never sell the old one, just try to find someone who needs it. Most recently that meant giving a good (but too small for my growing family) washing-machine to a friend of my wife’s who is, amongst other things, a painter. She offered to pay for it, but there just seemed to be something ridiculous about someone with very little spare money paying me for something I no-longer needed.

  • Nia

    Weird kinds of patronage…? I got 2 letters for ya: AA. I share this without judgment or criticism – it really works for some. 12 step programs are based on the premise that you have to be ASKING for help, but ideally, you will be BEGGING for help, you’ll have the DESPERATION needed to work the prog hard enough for it to stick.n’Coming through the door on your knees’ is how it’s put in AA-speak.
    You’re expected to “get a sponsor” – ASK a long-standing member to mentor you. Then you literally place your will and your
    life in their hands. Run every decision
    past them, and do as they say even when it doesn’t feel right. Your judgment is deemed useless, for the
    moment, you can’t trust your thinking, “your best thinking got you a seat at an
    AA meeting”. Your sponsor takes over your decision
    making. You do as they say,
    unquestioning. They guide you through
    the twelve steps, beginning with:

    1. We admitted that we were powerless over
    alcohol… (heroin, food, whatever)….

    2. Came to believe
    that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity

    3. Made a decision to
    turn our will and our lives over to the care of (our higher power)

    The foundation premise
    of 12 step programs is relinquish self-determination to your Sponsor and the
    intervention of a higher power. This
    arrangement is a powerful pathway out of addiction for many. It gave me my longest ever period of sobriety
    – 5 mths. In the long run I couldn’t
    live by the will of my patron, it just didn’t feel right to render myself
    powerless, even though the stakes were so high, and I kept making bad decisions which put my life at risk again and again… N

  • page
  • perpetual notion machine

    With regards to Book #2 :) Having to be around people can be, in part, explained by the book Quiet by Susan Cain (also a Ted Talk). Where extroverted type people gain their energy from others – in crowds, through engagement. With the ability to thrive on social interaction (even if it is just being around people in a cafe). Introverted types, who can also be equally social, gain energy in a different way. Their energy source is more like a well. As the well empties through social interaction they must refill it again…and they do this by being alone or left to their thoughts. And thus we have balance. Because we need both types, and all the variations in between these extremes. I personally think being around a buzz of people helps to get work done (even as more of an introvert type) because you feel a part of something and outside of your house you’re less likely to lounge and procrastinate and in my case become despondent about the work being done.

    With regards to patronage I don’t know what I would do without family. My fella works now and can support himself. But as a student and while studying was a musician also, and over the years each birthday present, Christmas gift, random surprise has built up an impressive array of instruments and equipment. Because of that he is able to do what he loves, that otherwise, as a student would not have been available to him. In my case (a postgrad), I’m now scrounging off him. So swings and roundabouts.

    • perpetual notion machine

      Also, I don’t know if this is relevant, but I had the opposite experience of what you are looking for. While doing my undergrad, I was living out and supporting myself with a part-time job. I had been playing piano for years and my parents had supported this from when I was a child and during college I was in the middle of my final piano grade – grade 8, which they were happy to pay for to help me finish. But because I was living out of home – I didn’t have a piano to practice on. I had a small keyboard that had been bandied about but it just wasn’t possible to practice at the level that was required with a keyboard, with a limited amount of keys and no pedals. I wasn’t doing music as a degree, but there were pianos on campus. So I rang the music department and asked them if there was any way I could use the pianos that are not in use on campus to practice. They said no. Years later I still don’t have my grade 8. I haven’t got around to trying it again and right now I just can’t afford to buy a piano. I don’t know why this would have been a problem. Many of the pianos are in empty lecture theatres that are not in use all the time – separate from the music building and never played. but alas, it wasn’t to be.

  • Karaly

    A few years ago I had a major stroke, followed by a 2nd one a month later. I lost my job because I was unable to work anymore, and I had no health insurance because of a pre-existing condition so I was not able to get the treatment I needed. Some friends decided to throw a fundraiser to help me get the medication I needed. They asked other local filmmakers to donate some things, then had an auction of these items while showing some of the films I was a part of. I couldn’t believe how much money they raised. It was just enough to help me get treated and also pay the bills at the time. I am still so grateful for their generosity. My health has been stable since then.

  • Scott Moore

    I was, in the language of the time, a bastard. Born to an unwed mother and placed in an orphanage.

  • Ruan Peat

    I am autistic, but high functioning, which means I seem fine to most folk but in my head I drown! I had given up ever having a best friend as I didn’t know who I was let alone how to be with another, when a girl called Claire walked into my life. She was new to the school and despite the rest saying she didn’t want anything to do with me, she ignored them and became the reason for me not failing, not ending my own life. We had only a few years and she taught me to look further than what was around me, to not worry about now, and to value myself. Sadly she died of cancer less than 4 years after we met, but I took her as my holding point, the person I show my work to proudly in my head and lived up to her expectations and still do now, more than 2 decades after she gave me her patronage and lifted me out of my self and gave me the future. I am a Librarian and a mum of three, I still have my OMG moments but I hold her in my heart and live up to her expectations.

  • LGrace

    My partners parents put me up for six months while I wrote the first draft my own book, a novel. I never usually take money from anyone, but help is different. I’ll accept help. I pay it forward by lending to friends whenever they need cash.
    It’s always been part of my upbringing – my parents let my brother’s first boyfriend live with us when his own parents kicked him out, and then my other brother’s girlfriend when she moved here from Lithuania to be with him – but money was something I always earn for myself, since I was thirteen, so I feel uncomfortable accepting it.

  • Birikiti Pegram

    it’s kind of a story of long ago – but also now. It’s not here in the West, so I don’t know if it is relevant, but it might be an interesting cultural comparison. I am an ethnomusicology student focusing on African musical culture, where particularly in West Africa, patronage is one of the main forms of income for many popular artists. Back in the old days it used to be kings and royals who would have a personal musician lullabying them, composing for them, singing their feats in battle, their greatness in the region etc etc… with the changing times, now it can be politicians, governments, or private rich businessmen who are patrons of musicians. In Mali there are examples of rich men commissioning whole albums by popular female singers. Usually there will be one song dedicated to the patron by the artist. Other rumours include singers who are bought cars, even private jets by these patrons. Meanwhile in Congo, there is this tradition called ‘mabanga’ which means ‘throwing stones’ where artists will ‘sing names’ of rich or famous people in the hope of securing some sort of financial contribution. Because economically things have got so bad there – where once the recording and music industry was pretty big – now musicians have resorted to this kind of method for making money and a huge percentage of their income is gained in this way. For the rich and famous, it is purely a vanity thing so they also choose to pay for it – whether at a live show to have their name shouted during songs, or they can pay more to have their names immortalised in studio recordings. Anything from a few dollars to a few thousand dollars depending on the artist’s fame and the patron’s wealth…

  • Mary Layton

    I dunno if anyone’s mentioned this before – and it’s only *vaguely* related to the specific question, although it is broadly related to your theme… Have you been made aware of Marillion? English prog-rock band? I ask because they were crowdfunding back in the 90s, via list-serv and primitive email and snail mail and shit. Before it was even called ‘crowdfunding’ :) They’d probably have some stories. The lads are all on Facebook, and I’m acquainted with their guitarist if you are interested in connecting and want a go-between.

    As for me – I am a visual artist, and this is probably somewhat mundane but I am able to do what I do (which is work from home) because I have a fantastic patron – a wonderful husband who is lucky enough to have a career that provides enough for me to not have to work an outside job. I am far from able to contribute to the household as much as I’d like, but he still supports me staying home to make good art. :)

  • emily

    When I was a high school senior I was suddenly very into fashion. I was making clothing and designs and everything and my sister was a constant encouragement. She was working in tv at the time and got me a gig in the wardrobe department on a movie (I don’t even know who she knew on the crew, I guess one of the wardrobe girls). It was a very brief internship but I liked what I saw. Now it’s almost ten years later and I’m working on the development side of film and she’s moved on to social work. She was always my encouragement and my role model though.

  • cliff

    I’m an artist. I have somehow manged to live on it but this made me realise that I have never been given or offered help professionally, any foothold I have has been a serious struggle to attain. The one time I was offered a gallery show on a plate by a kind benefactor he wanted me to have sex with him in return… Ill just go shoot myself now.

  • Vanish


    I’ve thought about writing something in your book-comments-comments for a while now, but I’m shy when it comes to famous people, and I didn’t think my story might be all that interesting to begin with, so I didn’t. On top of that, I’m not a regular commenter here or even a long-time fan, so I don’t even have squatter’s rights, whatever they are. So much for my disclaimer.

    I’m a musician and artist for virtual worlds. If you don’t know what that is, think of massively multiuser online… environments, similar to games, but without the “game”. I create 3D objects people can use in their virtual worlds – houses, furniture, clothes, etc. – and give them away for free and under a Creative Commons license, just to take the edge off the whole copyright stuff, and actually started a large and growing website for people to do the same – . On top of that, I visit different worlds to perform and play my music (which I also give away freely).

    None of this makes me any money. I’ve given up long ago to make any money from my art, and so I’m just doing it for the fun of it. So what do I get back?

    Well, the most immediate return is watching people enjoy what I’m doing. I can visit the virtual worlds I frequent and don’t have to go very far until I stumble on something that I made and someone else uses because they like it. That’s a very rewarding feeling, maybe comparable to seeing your painting in someone elses house, or hear your music get covered by someone. (I actually wrote recently an article about why this is awesome for musicians and not so much for other kinds of artists, and at the time wanted to send it to you as well, just because I’m so curious about your thoughts on the whole copyright stuff, so here it is too: )

    But, more in terms of “patronage”, I get a lot of goodwill through that. I can go to pretty much any virtual world (which are essentially internet-servers) and ask the people there if someone can give me some space on their server for a project, or just for myself, and I get a couple of offers within a few hours. It’s kinda like asking to crash on someone’s couch, or use a part of their home for a little while. It works beautifully, and I’m lucky to have that kind of support. And, there are the occasional donations coming in that help me cover my costs (and buy a new set of strings or so), but as far as I’m concerned, these are optional. It still feels… weird, to ask for money.

  • RZCrow

    “why must amanda constantly be surrounded by noise and strangers at all times?”

    You want to be witnessed. If an AFP wrote in a room with Bowie and The Smiths playing, and no one was around to see her, would she really have written anything? I think Warren Beatty asked Madonna something similar in Truth or Dare …

    You are the most delightful exhibitionist.

    • Discord

      Oh, look, a hater has arrived. How devastating and unpredictable.

      • RZCrow

        That’s interesting that this came across as “hate.” No hate intended, nor was I trying to devastate or be unpredictable. I guess I just forgot to wear my kid gloves when I posted. I do think Amanda Palmer is delightful and I do think she’s an exhibitionist. Both of these things are fine things to be. I apologize to any hurt feelings out there. No hate. Much love. And observation. Carry on.

  • Julia

    I was born with external Hydrocephalus. I’m dysgraphic. I have low muscle tone and coordination problems . I also have a mild visual processing disorder that makes it hard for me to read. I have speech differences. The doctors told my parents I would never be able to read or write or go to college, When I was 2 years old . My parents still supported me and believed in me and pushed me to survive. My parents were my advocates for when I did not have a voice. If my parents did not believe in me like they did, I would not have been able to overcome my disabilities. And i can say , as a junior in High school with a 4.0 GPA, that A parent’s belief in their Child is the best “Patronage” anyone can wish for.

  • fallen_woman

    So. Right now I am writing from my friend’s room. It’s a full sized bedroom but it was converted to a giant closet because she has THAT MUCH CLOTHING. (And it’s all awesome gothy stuff that awes me continuously.) But I’m here sitting on the floor, on my laptop because this is also kinda my office, or as close to my office as I’ve got. I’m a voice actor (among other things) and I need somewhere to record where I can control some of the sound and this is the best place. My home is too insane. Too freaking many people, animals, movement, shouting, craziness at any hour of the day…and at night I have to be quiet for their sake.

    S. heard about it and said why don’t I just hop into her room and record there? The wall-to-wall clothing deadens sound to give me something close to a real voice booth quality. There are only a few people here and one cat and they don’t care if I record in the middle of the night, first thing in the morning, whatever. I can crash on the couch pretty much whenever I want. (I let them know in advance and try to be a conscientious guest.)

    I can’t afford to just move up here, but this little fix has saved me from tearing my hair out from all the crap I can’t do at home and how stressful it is to live with so many people. There are a few drawbacks since this *isn’t* my home, but the support is unparalleled.

    As for the money and somewhere to freaking live… that’s all my mom. Gotta give it up to her. I eat every day because she’s generous. I can put gas in my truck, take voice classes and get other VO shit done thanks to her assistance.

    I don’t know that this would apply back in ancient patronage days – I mean a woman with this much independence..? If this were 1668, I should have a kid on each hip, I’m too old to even be a talented courtesan. But it makes me think of folks like hippies and beats who just made their shit up as they went along and didn’t quit no matter how weird it was and how little their lives lined up with what they were “supposed’ to have…. Not having the things I should – my own home, tax returns, a smart phone – does have a lot of drawbacks. It CAN make shit more complicated. I wish I could play along and not stick out constantly, but I am so glad that I have help getting this shit done. Between my mom and S. I have the room to breathe and work. It’s fabulous.

  • Alison

    I’ve had to retake my final year at university I’m studying Illustration. I originally went to study graphic design but I needed to do something slightly more free. Anyway I am having to retake my final year as last year in May my older brother died. He was only 28 but it was a horrible accident. My tutors at uni were really supportive and said that it was no problem my retaking. And the people in the student centre said I wouldn’t have to pay my fees again. That however was complete bollocks and last month I got an email saying I owed my university £1740 and I had two weeks to pay up or I’d have to leave. I was just gobsmacked and had no idea what to do. I don’t have that kind of money. I earn £200 a month working as a carer and all of that goes on petrol, food and uni supplies. As soon as I told my dad he said he’d lend me the money no problem I didn’t even have to ask. He’s also letting me live at home rent free. Well in return for me helping with cooking and housework. I am so grateful. All I want to do is make him and my mum proud. All they want is for me to be happy. Finishing my degree will mean the world to them. As it will open so many doors for me that are now closed to my brother.

  • Rachel

    One time a famous author and his famous musician wife (guess who?) let my small theater company use the basement of their house in Cambridge as rehearsal space for an experimental show I produced based on one of the author’s unpublished short stories.

    • Adam Bennett


  • gartendorle

    My father goes to church every single sunday to play the organ. He never uses sheets. The wonderful musicjust floats out of his mind into his fingers.
    He is gifted, but was always fighting with life and its hardships.

    He never graduated, cause he had to take care of the people arround him. He has a chronic disease and every inch of his body is hurting when he moves. But he is playing the orgen anway.
    With the little money he is making every sunday he is funding his 29 years old daughter, who is trying to finish university but is also struggling with life on her own way.
    I’m living a life thats accomanied by depression and panic attacs. I’m struggling with life like he did. I’ve always worked in several jobs, but it’s never enough to survive. And when I’m working, there’s no time or strenght left for
    university or to fight the depression.

    My loving father is playing the organ for me every single sunday of the year. He is ad-libbing the most wonderful and spiritual music you can think of with hurting hands, so that his daughter can life without fear.

  • Adam Bennett

    Back in the day we were schlepping our shows around not very good at getting gigs and decided to see if we could pay someone to basically sell our work. Out of the blue appears this woman Rosa who was amazing. She built up contacts, sold our shows, made a difference. We loved her work and thought she would go far. Long story short, she ended up living in France inspired by our work and others to have a go herself. She learned close up magic and street entertainment and launched a successful career for herself as an independent. She was doing ok. But now she’s been struck down by cancer and is fighting for her life, is traveling to Berlin and London for the treatment she needs to survive. A friend of hers started a fund for people to help her pay for the medical bills and it has been amazing. All these people who scrape a living together by sheer graft reaching out to a friend in need and hoping that she’ll pull through and go on chasing her dream. Sometimes it’s about helping those who show promise through the hard times. 85% of the fund covered.

  • veracityweatherwax

    I’m a Feri Tradition Witch, and I have many distance students,with whom i keep in touch via Skype and G+ hangouts. They can’t afford to come to me in San Francisco to be initiated, and initiation has to be done in person. So I’m taking a trip to Brazil in order to initiate a couple of students. On the way, i will be going to Chicago to meet yet another student from Germany and initiate her. I’m using GoFundMe, and I’m trying to raise $5K for air fare and expenses. I am almost halfway there!! As of today I have raised a little over $2100. If this keeps up I will be able to do it in October. Yay Feries! Yay Witches! and Yay! all the miscellaneous people who are neither, but who thought it a worthwhile enough endeavor that they contributed as well!

  • cestelle

    A few years ago my now husband and I were pretty down and out. We’d just moved to a new city. I was working nights in a horrible retail job and he was going to school to try and finish his degree. We lived in a tiny apartment with another couple and three cats and while we were never unhappy, we did count every penny. Every day, before work, I sat at our rickety kitchen table with my cup of mint tea and wrote mountains of short stories I never showed to anyone.

    Fast forward a year. My husband was working and I’d canoodled my way into a job as an assistant at a literary agency. I supplemented my income by also working as a part time assistant at a financial firm downtown – a job I just fell into thanks to a friend of family. Soon, as my duties at the agency grew and reading slush manuscripts started taking up more and more of my time, I stopped writing. For me, being agent just didn’t work with being a writer – there were too many emails to answer, too many stories written by other people to read, and you are always on call. I told myself it was ok to leave writing behind. I’d still be helping bring stories into the world and that had to be good enough. Maybe it wasn’t important that they weren’t my stories.

    That’s when my boss at the investment firm, where I was still working because agenting is a long slow slog in the beginning, really threw a wrench into my so called plans and offered me four times my current yearly income to leave the publishing career behind and work for him full time. That night I went home and cried. It should have been easy to decide. I’d been working on my publishing career for so long and it was just starting to take off. But something was holding me back. Some people said it was just the money distracting me, but I felt like it was something else.

    Four days later I found myself sitting in my boss’s high rise office in the financial district, wondering how a shy, liberal-minded, small town girl had gotten there. I told him I couldn’t decide and he thought about it for a minute and then he asked me very pointedly what I wanted out of life. That’s when it became crystal clear. What I wanted was to write. I’d known it all along and I’d never really admitted that thought to anyone besides my husband but when I did a big grin lit up my boss’s face. I’ll pay you a full time salary but I’ll give you Fridays off, he said, for your writing, and we’ll work together to make sure you never have to take your work home with you. The most important thing about a job is that it allows you to do what you love, he reminded me. Sometimes that’s the job itself, sometimes, for a while, that’s something else.

    Now my publishing days are behind me, at least as an agent, but the future is bright. I still have the same rickety table but instead of writing in the mornings like I did during my retail days I write at night and on Fridays. Sometimes I worry that the world will hate me for working in the financial industry and I’ll never get anything published or that I won’t do well when I do and that in the end…I’ll end up as just another pair of heels in the elevator. But for now, I’m choosing to be brave. I’m choosing to write, to show my stories to people this time, and to believe in myself.

    I’m still amazed that it took a conversation with a Wall Street savvy veteran of the financial industry to force me to solidify my desire to be a writer and I’m even more amazed that in the end that person, by offering me time, freedom and money, has become one of my biggest supporters in that goal. I think though, that in this nuanced world, generosity often comes from unexpected places.

  • Lisa

    I wrote you an email last year about this very thing, after you posted the TED talk, but I’ll happily write the updated version here, as well:

    I’m an artist, and I’ve been writing online about art and the process of creating it since 1999. Over the course of that time, I’ve given away a ton of stuff—how-to lessons, project instructions, collage images, and pretty much anything else that’s fallen out of my head. I also charge for some of this same stuff as part of my business, but having the basics in place for free, for folks who just want to dip a toe in and give it a try has always been at the heart of what I do.

    In February, 2013, I was diagnosed with uterine cancer. For someone who has gone through life happy, healthy, and pretty much on her own—well, let’s just say my first reaction was I’M FUCKED! I thought I was facing this alone, with no family or support system, and no health insurance, and everything I read said that wasn’t possible. Fucked, I say…

    And then, people started raising their hands. A couple of artist friends posted pieces for sale to raise money for my doctor bills. A few others asked if they could just donate some spare cash. They encouraged me to post a donation button on my web site, which I resisted at first—feeling that I was doing something bad and wrong by asking for help. I got over it when enormous bills started arriving, like a snow drift, in my mailbox.

    Magic happened. My readers used that donation button, and started sending money. Not enough to cover the horrendous bills that kept coming in—but enough to cover my house bills and food during the months I was dealing with my health blowing up in my face. Most of these donations were accompanied by apologies. “I’m sorry it’s not more” became the standard message, and I took this to mean, “if I had all the money in the world, I would send it to you right now”. Some of them sent what was a lot of money to me—and some of them sent the change that was left on all the Visa gift cards they had laying around. It didn’t matter to me who sent what. All that mattered was that my ass was covered while I wasn’t able to create the things that earn my living.

    I had a profound and life-changing revelation: I am not alone. I have never been alone. All those hundreds of hours I put into writing and creating and instructing have affected hundreds of people—and when they heard that I was in trouble, a whole bunch of them came running. We are connected.

    One year ago yesterday, I had surgery to remove my uterus, cervix, ovaries and tubes—and, so far, it looks like all the cancer cells went with them. When I was laying on that table, I knew I had hundreds of readers focusing on the image of a bag of cells with bad attitudes leaving my body (or praying, if that was their thing). I will never feel alone again.

  • Alexandra Borealis

    have a generally fatal degenerative disease. I’m basically a
    quadriplegic. I’m 24. My 17 year old cousin/bestie convinced me to try
    Second Life. She wanted to start a brothel. I made my avatar/little
    character super hot and was making money (real US money)
    as a virtual ‘escort’ (prostitute) before I was 3 days in. It was a
    really surreal and interesting experience. I never mentioned the
    wheelchair, obviously. you can’t tell in the pictures I’d show. I got a
    few offers for in-person paid encounters and several romantic meetup
    requests, but the one that really got me was the 50 year old man in
    London whose wife had just left him. His voice and demeanor were so
    sexy. Huge crush. He offered to fly me to London, I said I couldn’t
    because I had a severe chronic illness. He offered to come to me, and I
    said it was silly to fly to another country for a girl you know nothing
    about, but he was insistent and said he wanted to help me financially to
    get healthy again. I finally gave up and added him on Facebook,
    assuming that seeing my chair would turn him off and he’d go cold. He
    did the opposite. He has given me a significant amount of money to pay
    for an expensive nutritional supplement that is known to be very
    beneficial for my condition but, more importantly to me, we have
    remained flirtatious and video chatted at length several times. One time
    we fell asleep on Skype pretending we were in bed together It was pretty cute.

  • lillibet

    Ten years ago I founded a community theatre. At first we were given space rent-free by a local church, in return for sharing our profits with them. We put a hand-painted sign on the sidewalk and people–complete strangers–walked in off the street to audition for us. We posted on a couple of local mailing lists and LiveJournal and over four hundred people came to see our first show. Since then we’ve worked with close to five hundred individuals, and twelve of the people involved with the first show are still working with us. People have given us their money, their resources–in one case a free boat that we didn’t have to give back, within an hour of the request being sent out–their talents and their time in jaw-dropping quantities. We’ve had scary financial moments and difficult times and not every show we’ve done has been a success. But we’ve also had amazing triumphs over adversity and we’ve built a real community in which we support one another through our personal crises, celebrate our individual success, and create friendships, marriages, even children together. Plus, we keep making theatre and sharing it with our wider community. Throughout this process we’ve had benefactors and contributors who’ve gotten us through the sticky patches. We’re about to launch another fund-raising campaign and are crossing our fingers that our audience will provide for our next decade the way they’ve carried us through our first one. The collaborative aspects of theatre are more obvious than in some forms of art, but the depth of support required is generally invisible and invaluable.

  • esmertina

    The book The Hare with Amber Eyes by Edmund de Waal tells the story of Charles Ephrussi, a wealthy art patron in 1870s Paris, and the ambivalent relationships he had with the painters he supported. Renoir in particular courted Charles as a source of much-needed funding, but hated painting the pedestrian society portraits he commissioned. Degas criticized Renoir’s lack of artistic integrity and pretty much called him a sell-out for “painting to order.”

    But Degas made plenty of money from Ephrussi, too, as did Monet, Pisarro and pretty much the whole Who’s Who of impressionist painters. But they didn’t particularly like him. They didn’t even like his taste in art — they hated the way he displayed their work, hanging alongside commercial works by far lesser painters. I found the dynamic really interesting — these painters held their noses and socialized with a man they did not respect, because they needed his money and connections. And then amongst themselves they laughed at him.

    Renoir portrayed this ambivalence when he painted Charles into his Luncheon of the Boating Party. In contrast to the relaxed, free-spirited party goers, Ephrussi stands rigid and formally dressed with a top hat in the background. And he’s turned away from the main subjects of the painting. He may be at the party, but he is not one of the crowd.

    I was thinking as I was reading — this is the downside of patronage. Amidst all the cases of genuine connection with and affection for fans and supporters, there have to be some cases where you need to grit your teeth and gut it out because that’s what pays the bills. And that may be harder for some artists to stomach than others. I’d like to see that addressed in The Book also.

  • RiverVox

    My uncle passed away when I was young. He was unmarried and had no children and I was his favorite niece. He left me money in his will to ensure that I would go to college. It was a family secret, since none of my cousins received anything. When I was 16 and wanted to drop out of high school to marry my boyfriend and live in a trailer in West Virginia (!), my mother would say “No way. Your uncle left you that money and you have to go to college.” This was always the reason given and it was a powerful one. The money enabled me to go to an expensive private college with no burden on my working class family but more important was what it represented: my uncle believed in me. He thought I was special and wanted me to have a good education. His legacy changed my life. (I also got his collection of show tunes, but that is another story…) The crucial point of patronage – someone who believes in you.

  • Max

    P { margin-bottom: 0.08in; }

    This is less a story of art patronage
    and more a story of life patronage, though if one argues that Life =
    Art than,,, In 2010 I attempted suicide and then my wife stepped away
    from our marriage. I moved back in with my parents and began a slow
    spiral downwards into depression and drugs. Again in 2012 I attempted

    Along the way I rekindled a
    relationship with two friends from my past. I brought them into the
    fold, telling them of my bipolar diagnosis, my attempts, my volatile
    relationship with my parents, a stint in rehab, and my looming

    With an act of trust and love my
    friends brought me into their family. For two years I’ve lived with
    them, cleaning myself up, getting the help I needed and preventing
    more scars from forming on my body.

    This simple act saved my life and is
    pushing me into the life I truly want and the person I want to be.

  • SitsUnderWaterfalls

    I have never asked for money for my art. Because, er, my art sucks. I am confident that it will not suck forever! Eventually not sucking is the gist of what I am trying for. But, haha, for now, I keep my day job at the library and go to college for something ostensibly practical; I am content. I have, however, given money for art, let poets crash on my couch when I lived in a house with a couch, helped bail my friend out when she was afraid she had to drop out of art school, and talk and talk and talk to my brother who loves music more than air and more than once looked at me after a weekend at our parents completely dejected because it’s so freaking clear that they don’t believe in him, and he said, “Dad thinks I’m stupid,” like it was a solemn fact.

    And I don’t want him to quit. I love him so much, and I want him to create what he wants to create. I want to give him money for things, for the mixing equipment he’s scraping by at his dishwashing job to save up for, but he’s weird about it. He will never owe me anything, he has to understand that; I wish I were older, I wish I could keep him safe, I wish my science fiction stories were NOT SHIT ALREADY so I could tell him something true, so I had the cash to help him out and he could quit his day job. I don’t want him to ever think that the way to keep from hurting is to try to not want it anymore. Because striving for art is GOOD. He makes good art, I believe that. But I don’t know how to help him, really. He doesn’t ask. Maybe he doesn’t need my help beyond pep talks and hugs. Maybe that’s all he asks for because he knows he’s given me plenty of those as well.

    My friends who do ask: I have never loved them any less. I love them more, perhaps. I love being able to help, because I feel blessed by their friendship or their work, and it’s concrete. And honestly? Being able to help is empowering. I feel powerless a lot. Powerless to be independent in a lot of ways. Powerless to create the art I want. But I am empowered to help my friends, to help fantastic strangers! Even if it’s only a little bit. My friends and I recently came together and threw an open mic to raise money for a lovely poet who has RSD and needed to pay for experimental treatments, and hearing from her, talking about how the treatment is going, how it’s starting to work, I’m just grinning. Not just because she’s my friend and she’s doing better, but because I was able to help her get better myself, in a way.

    Lifegoal, far higher on the list than being a writer, for me, is being the team mom. But, I am a bit young for that yet.

  • Jamie

    I got approved for disability (for severe mental illness) when I was 23 (and after having to wait almost two years for an appeal of my initial determination). I’m 26 now, and just went back to university in the fall to major in Women and Gender Studies in the hopes of actually doing something with my life that will help people. It’s not easy, and the road ahead of me is long, but the disability money is probably one of the only things keeping me from living in a cardboard box on some roadside somewhere, or worse.

  • morrigan2711

    I wanted to learn to play the cello just over a year ago, but I couldn’t afford a cello. My ex suggested I ask on Facebook if anyone had one I could borrow. I didn’t think it’d work, but within a couple of days someone on his friends list offered me their old school cello on loan for as long as I need it. I’m now working towards grade 2.

  • Karja C Hansen

    I love this question/topic.

    I took my first out of country trip, 3 weeks in Athens, Greece, living on my own in the Kato Patissia suburb, and 6 weeks sailing by myself through the Cyclades, looking for a larger understanding of place, community and tradition – funded by a IVF cycle donating eggs to an infertile Greek couple who liked the idea of children with my genes. According to the stipulations, I never met any of the immediate or extended family I was donating to, but I stayed in a family apartment and somehow there was always incredible homemade Greek food waiting for me after I got back from my no-regular-schedule jaunts around the city and region.

    Half a decade later, as my thoughts and practice on those same topics; place, community and tradition, were graduating to a new worldview (but not one that supported me at all financially, I served coffee and made sandwiches to support the passion) I met one of the thought leaders of the Human Settlement Pattern through my volunteered efforts who immediately saw my spark and hired me away to Miami, loaning me cars for months on end and housing me in apartments at fractions of the market value. I gained an incredible amount of knowledge and nuance during my time working for him and his wife in the incredible community of collaborators they had created, but in the end the most important lessons I learned were of the incredible power of generosity to change the world. Their practice will live on in the annals of human knowledge, but the incredible impact they have had on the world comes squarely from the generosity and collaborative spirit that embodies all of their decisions.

  • Karja C Hansen

    And thinking on this further, I am now being supported (not entirely comfortably on either of our parts – but getting there) by the first man in my life to truly see me for myself as opposed to just what I bring to his own life. I chose to stay in Miami for him after leaving the job that brought me here, still searching for how to apply myself to the daunting task I am only now beginning to have the time to wrap my head around, rather than just throw myself at the most expedient seeming portion of within grasp. I grew up with a heavy weight on my shoulders of family and was in full burn out mode by the time i went to college, but only just in the past year or so have begun to have the support and stability necessary to slow down, care for myself and understand or address it thanks to the support of this man, in many ways. I am writing again and seeing my path clearer everyday.

    • SitsUnderWaterfalls

      I think that’s really important to think about: who you ask is just as important as what you ask for. Sometimes bad help is worse than no help. Glad you found someone who believes in you ^__^

  • Christopher Bingham

    Hey Amanda! I posted a kind of tome-ish thing about how people have supported us through the years, but it doesn’t seem to be here. I wonder if I pissed you off somehow, or if it’s a glitch in the system. Let me know if it just somehow didn’t end up in the cue. We’ve survived entirely from people donating for about 20 years…


  • davidrodwin

    Here’s a funny one. I’m now supporting myself and my artistic habit by running other people’s Kickstarter campaigns.

    Another story was when I was running my company Raw Impressions, Inc. We got artists in film, music theatre and dance to make short work incredibly quickly with collaborators they’d never met. We begged stole and borrowed all we needed for our first season, but as we looked to a second bigger season, a banker whom I’d specifically invited partially because I knew he was loaded offered to give the company $20K. On one condition – I stick with the company for at lest 5 years. He didn’t want a flash in the pan. He wanted to give to something that would last. He gave. We expanded. I took the commitment very seriously. 3 years in I wanted to go back to creating my work instead of supporting other artists, but I felt I couldn’t. I stuck with it 5 years. Funded the creation of 60 short films, 170 ten-minute musicals, 18 dance theatre pieces by over 1000 artists. And I’m glad I did, but I wouldn’t have continued on without the pressure of the commitment I made when I accepted that money. Another interesting note, is that the banker I knew through my school’s alumni circles. I went to Princeton. In some ways we were equals in our background, but so many of my peers are so wealthy, it’s hard to fathom, and I don’t hang out with them, so I think of myself on an even playing field. But when we sat at the table and it was clear I was an artist who could barely pay the rent and he had 10s of thousands to spare, I felt like a pauper talking to royalty. And it felt demeaning and patronizing.

  • Jacqueline

    When I was a teenager there was a picture framer in my home town who used to hang paintings in his shop.
    One day at the shop I came across a painting of a lone figure on a beach bending down to pick something out of the sand, while the sky boiled above her. There was something about the picture that drew me in. I went back repeatedly over the course of several months to stare at it. There was no way I could buy it- it was not expensive but I was at school, had no income and my father and I were surviving off benefits. Yet there it sat, and it seemed no one else wanted it either.
    The summer holidays came. I left school, preparing to go to college, and got a summer job in a supermarket packing bread. Four weeks later I got my first pay-packet. It wasn’t much but it was enough. The next day I went to that shop to buy that painting.
    The picture framer told me that the painting was by a local maths teacher who had never sold any of his art before. The man had told him that the sale of that painting would decide for him what he was going to do with his life- whether he would give up teaching to pursue his passion, or stick with the safe option of a secure job.
    I liked the story, but didn’t think a great deal of it. I hung the picture in my hall and every time I saw it thought about how that was the first item I ever bought for myself with my first pay packet.
    Years later I was back from college and had a job in town As for the picture framer: he had sold the business to another couple, who also hung the odd picture for sale in their shop. One day I walked in to their shop to find a huge painting of a woodland scene on the wall. It was expensive- too expensive for me. I fell in love with it on sight and stared at it trying to figure out what there was about it. Then the shopkeeper handed me a leaflet:
    “It’s by a popular local artist. He’s holding an exhibition.”
    I looked down. In the bottom corner of the leaflet, amongst images of lots of other paintings, was a blurry picture that I recognised immediately. It was a photograph of my painting, the one that was still hanging in my hall.
    It turns out that a seventeen year old me really did change that man’s life just by buying a painting.

  • The Cemetery Dreamer

    I’m currently self-funding a PhD in archaeology – specifically looking at the use of landscape and monuments in Victorian cemeteries. I had funding for my master’s and then upgraded to PhD so that year counted as the first year of my PhD. I missed out on funding in my second year, because it’s so competitive in the arts, and then they closed my department and I couldn’t bring myself to lie on the forms about how great I thought the uni was, and how it was a perfect place to study, when really I’d have rather been anywhere else, but couldn’t afford to relocate and didn’t want to leave me boyfriend behind. Instead I got a part-time job to pay the fees.

    I’ve been really lucky that both my parents support my decision to stay in academia and my dad gives me money every month, the equivalent of just over a weeks wages from my crappy job, which really helps. My boyfriend and his dad let me live with them rent free too, which is incredible. I couldn’t survive on less than £500 a month and pay my fees too if they didn’t do that.

    I’ve been suffering from a lot of anxiety and feeling really inadequate at my lack of progress with my PhD – finally i decided to take 6 months out to try and get my head back together. I’m due to go back to uni in April, and whilst I’m still have bad days when I don’t think I can ever do it, the last 6 months have changed a lot for me.

    I’ve been volunteering with a local history group for about a year, they are a really great bunch of people who make me feel very valued. The local historian for the group had to leave at Christmas to look after an elderly relative, and so with my extra time, I stepped into the breach. Now, from April, they’ll be paying me 2 hours a week to run their next project. It’s a small thing, but their faith in me and willingness to pay an inexperienced student £12.50 an hour (the same wage as the previous historian) gave me a big confidence boost.

    In Feb I traveled to Scotland for a conference and to visit one of the cemeteries for my thesis. It was a charmed weekend because I met so many kindred spirits; like a pair of awesome Art Historians from Texas who took me out to dinner (where some complete strangers gave us tequila shots because they had brought too many). One of the people I met was an Australian woman, who I overheard discussing working on a project in my city. I excitedly started talking to her about it and before I even got home from the conference I had an email from the person running the project, saying the Australian had told her I was interested, offering me volunteering opportunities. When I met with her to discuss the volunteering, she mentioned a part-time job at a local museum. I applied and I’ve got an interview on Monday!

    So many people have helped me have faith in myself and the path I want to take and I’m so eternally grateful. I don’t want the good luck to end with me so I’m trying to find ways to pay it forward and help people realize their dreams too.

  • Kat Steiner

    I know this might not be very interesting, or really mainstream, but can I tell the story of a group of my friends/acquaintances who started a steampunk storytelling band a couple (maybe three or four…god) years ago. This is absolutely not a plug, I just effing love them and their fans (amongst whom I totally count myself) are *insane*.

    Each time they put a set together (they’ve done three, with different themes), play some gigs of it, do a daily free slot for the entire Edinburgh Fringe Festival, and run a Kickstarter/IndieGogo campaign to record the album in a studio. They’ve just finished their third set (Arthurian legends in future space-Wild West) and I went to the debut gig of it. That night they opened their Kickstarter and announced it to the crowd of maybe 100, 150 people. It was due to run for about a month, and started out at £2,500 to make the album. Standard stuff.

    In 24 hours it had been fully funded. By 48 it was steaming towards their biggest stretch goal of £3,500 (loads of extras, longer studio time, more artwork, etc). It’s now been going for about two weeks and it’s now at £4,500.

    It just really gets to me because the Mechs probably only have a few hundred supporters (maybe 350 tops?). But we all deeply give a shit that they continue to do what they’re doing. And we give money. And that’s what places like Kickstarter are for – these bands with tiny, batshit insane dedicated fans. So yeah. Sorry this was so mainstream and boring.

  • Patricia

    Reading the amazing stories in the comments made me want to throw in a little of my own experience, particularly how the spirit of the gift can matter greatly. I’ve lived in 15 different places in 11 years, including 3 or 4 cross country moves, often relying on friends and family to help me find my feet. In 2007, I moved from CA to OH where my sister was letting me live in her basement for free. It was a tremendous gift, but she seemed unhappy that I was there and judgemental of my choices even as I found a job and internships to pursue my career. Within 6 months, I moved out and our relationship has never been the same.

    Last year, I quit my job because I could not stand working there anymore. I thought I would find another quickly, but I didn’t. As I got more worried about money, my good friend and landlady offered me $100 off rent for cooking with the possibility of no rent if it came to that. She was supportive of my choice, impractical as it was, and gave freely without strings. Her gift made me feel that more was possible, where my sister’s gift made me feel confined and uncomfortable. In brief, both gifts enabled me to move forward in practical ways, but only one enabled me to dream.

  • C S Hughes

    Can’t say I ever had patronage, but when I was 13 or 14 and needed a typewriter so I could send a story, typed, double-spaced to some sort of competition, I nicked an IBM Selectric Golf Ball typewriter from the back of a community centre or Police Boys Club. Above the back door it had a small window with glass louvres, which slid out with a little pulling, except one broke and cut my hand. This was back in the dark ages, during the Cold War. I carried that heavy old beast home through the night leaving swirly trails of blood, like a scattering of graffitied letters in an unknown alphabet. I was nearly fainting by the time I got home. Cut worse than I thought, (but not too badly). I was from the wrong place, and had the wrong face, a hated face, a smashed face, an invisible face. People with my face didn’t have high or gentle dreams. No one was going to help me, so I helped myself. I never did enter that competition, but I wrote some long lost but frankly rubbishy juvenile stories on that monster. It made a terrific racket. I also wrote some poems on it, which had some glimmers of meaning. A delinquent poet committing poetical misdemeanours. Probably not much has changed.

  • Louise Phillips

    Dear Amanda,

    I am a huge fan and have been for a number of years. In fact, I credit you with bringing my music tastes into this century as I hadn’t listened to much current music until my kids grew up and started having musical tastes and experiences of their own. When my son Chris and his friend Ari wanted to go to your concert at the Forum in about 2009 they were both underage and needed an adult to go with them. I was deemed the “coolest” of the parents (very flattered) and they asked me to go with them. I agreed, having never heard of you at that stage. I got them to play me some of your music so I would know whether to take earplugs and a sudoko book or whether I would want to listen to the concert. Needless to say, I’ve been a great fan ever since, been to all your concerts in Melbourne with Chris (including at the Northcote Social Club) and joined in your kickstarter projects. It’s been a great fun ride and a wonderful way to connect with my son.

    Just to tell you about asking for things. Another of our musical interests is the Australian Boys Choir where both my sons have received the most wonderful training in both music and life. (Just as an aside, I also claim a couple of degrees of separation between you and the choir as Trevor Jones, who I think you have met but if not is a friend of Tom Dickens, is an oldboy and previous staff member of the choir and a great supporter). Anyway, it is the choir’s 75th Anniversary this year and we are hosting an exhibition in Fed Square in June this year (6-11) called 75 Years, 75 Stories. As I am sure you understand, these type of things costs a bucket of money to do well and as a not-for-profit organisation in the arts… You get it. Anyway, with some persuasion the board agreed to let us put up a Pozible crowd funding for the exhibition. They were very nervous as it was so far outside their previous experience of how to do things. I had told them about your Theatre is Evil kickstarter, but I think it sounded too unreal for them to understand. We chose $10K as our target (although we really need $15K to do all we want) and I am really happy to say we reached the 10 with 40 days to spare. We are still going if you would like to contribute
    I can see you enjoying a visit to a choir rehearsal or one of our vintage
    material bow ties but even the cost of a cup of coffee would help us along – as
    you know :)

    You will probably be gone from Melbourne by the time of the exhibition, but you would of course be very welcome to visit us there. Anyway, thank you for all you do – I am inspired by people who believe in what they are doing and who encourage the arts in any form.
    Kindest regards

  • Charly Irons

    When I was 14, my uncle gave me his guitar. To this day, I have never understood why. My father had always been the black sheep of the family – his business tanked after a mediocre ten years and left him (and consequently us) among the scrambling unemployed – while his two brothers were both earning triple figures every year, owned their own houses and had perfectly normal families. Ours meanwhile was plagued by ill mental health and overdraft extensions; my father a workaholic, my mother a struggling student, and me a confused LGBT teen.
    So when we visited my successful uncle and his similarly successful next of kin, and he told my father – an eternally aspiring musician himself – about his increasing (and untouched) collection of guitars. He showed us an office full of pristine and expensive instruments, none of which he could play, but that he kept as art along his walls. He passed me his prized acoustic and to my surprise, left me to play. We had nothing in common – he and I – we didn’t even like guitars for the same reason. But for the first time in our relationship, he seemed to want us to be friends.
    Hours later, as we were due to leave, I was presented with the same guitar, in a soft black case. He didn’t say anything to me, and he’s never spoken about it to me since. It’s my gigging guitar, and to this day, I’ve never been able to produce a better sound with another instrument.

  • Carol Diser-Ropella

    You may already know this story, but back in the late 1950’s, Harper Lee was living in NYC and working for an airline full time while trying to write some short stories about life in a small Southern town. That winter, she was too broke to travel home for the holidays, so she spent Christmas with some dear friends and their young children. On Christmas morning, the couple presented her with a check large enough for her to quit her job and write for a year. Without that generous Christmas gift, we would not have the timeless class novel, To Kill A Mockingbird.

  • E Parker

    I had no idea that I could do what I wanted until I started to dream of what I wanted. I didn’t know how to dream of what I wanted until I let myself be. I was living in a straight relationship with my then husband and finally came out with it that I’m gay and that I couldn’t live that sham any more.

    I moved out and found that the money I needed was just available. I get government benefits for my 2 kids and child support and it’s enough. I didn’t know what I wanted to do with myself and I had been blogging for a little while so I just continued while I was figuring out my options. Then it occurred to me that I can write and I could actually do that for a living.

    So I’m writing a book and a blog and feeling more creative and alive than I ever have. The gift of finally knowing what I want was given to me by independence with only myself to please and the honesty to give it a whirl.

    This is my blog:

  • Athene Numphe

    I’ve always wished I was rich so I could be a patron of the arts like people use to be in olden days. I have a friend who is an amazing artist. I’ve always told myself if I ever randomly come into tons of money, I will offer to become her patron or help her set up an art studio or school or whatever she wants.

    I feel like Kickstarter has helped ease this urge to be a patron of the arts. Because I can be just one contributor of many, I can pledge what is (mostly) in my budget to help wonderful artistic projects become realities. On the other hand, this has led to a bit of a Kickstarter funding problem. I think I’ll give up funding projects for Lent…after I pledge to the two I have my eye on…maybe.

  • Rut Blomqvist

    My story is about the value of unconditional and unselfish support, both emotional and economic, for what someone genuinely feels they need to do with their lives. I think that’s what makes a real patron, the ability to believe in someone’s potential and give them the means to pursue the goals they set up.

    I am a musician who has taken a four-year academic detour reading and writing ABOUT art instead of MAKING IT myself. Having realised that I spent the most part of my student grants and loan on something that’s slightly relevant for what I need to do but not actually to the point, I am now constantly confused and disoriented, trying to find the road that I really should be walking on. The feeling of unreality is made stronger by the disapproval, explicit or implicit, of people around me and society as a whole. But what aids me and gets me forward nevertheless, and enables me to enjoy making art, is the appreciation and support that some people around me give without thinking twice, without involving their own dissatisfaction with their choices and how their lives have turned out. I think that’s what makes a proper patron – someone who’s not in it for any personal gain and who doesn’t begrudge someone else their success because they themselves aren’t happy with how their life has turned out; someone who just appreciates the project or person they support and want them to do it because they believe in it somehow.

    I’ve experienced this patronage with very few people. My partner, one of my closest friends, and my dad are the people who support what I do, unconditionally, who don’t hesitate to lend me their musical instruments, who gladly drive my incredibly heavy stage piano to gigs (I don’t even have a driving licence), who offer to pay rent for me so that I can work less as a temp in childcare and education and do more art. These things help me economically, but even more importantly right now, they makes me feel that I should keep at it, that I’m not stupid to pursue this career and that my art has a value and deserves an audience.
    Like in the story bamahippie1 shared here – the one with the coffee gift card – it’s about how small economic contributions makes you feel that you should keep doing what you’re doing, that someone wants you to write or compose or play or study or whatever. In a society where a number of important things like art and some types of research etc are not prioritised financially, these symbolic acts of economic support become proof that it’s the system that’s the problem and that there’s nothing at all the matter with you and your ambitions and wishes.

  • Kate Blair

    My old hula halau (hula dancing troupe) practiced in the basement of a church for free. We did for years and years. It was one of the main reasons we functioned and performed.

  • untiltheviolencestops

    Three stories:

    1. There’s this angel who supports the indie theatre community in New York. I’m not sure whether or not he’ll want his name in print, so I’ll call him JS.

    JS finds theatre artists he believes in and then gives them thousands of dollars, no-strings-attached. He’s continued doing this even when his hours at work were reduced to three days a week. Often he’ll do it via Indiegogo or Kickstarter, waiting until the last minute and then either taking you to your goal or putting you over the top. He supports all kinds of projects: Everything from solo shows with music, to plays about addiction or bullying, to comedies about gorillas who think they’re out-of-work actors. Often, the theatre artists give him producer or executive producer credit, but not always.

    Even if he isn’t giving money to your shows, he’ll always come, always buy a ticket even when you offer to comp him, always talk you up on Facebook. Everything he does comes from a place of love. He told me once that he considers the theatre artists he supports to be his “children.”

    He supported my musical in the New York Fringe Festival,; we’d already raised our goal on Kickstarter but he donated another $2000, allowing us to pay artists who’d agreed to work for free. After the show, when we found ourselves short, I asked him if he would lend us some money while we waited for the box office money to come in. He gave more than we needed and told us there was no need to pay him back.

    2. I was Indiegogo-ing my first venture as a solo theatre producer, and freaking out. We were less than halfway to our goal, with a week to go. So I took to YouTube and poured my heart out for ten minutes. I explained why I’d written this show, why I’d chosen self-producing, why I believed in my collaborators so strongly–and then I said, “I need help.” I released the video into the void of the Internet.

    Later that night, a huge donation came in from a name I didn’t recognize. She emailed me and I discovered that she was the mother of a friend of an actress in the show–so, three degrees removed. She told me she was incredibly moved by my video and that if we could raise the next $500 ourselves, she’d take us to the rest of our goal. It worked. She ended up donating about a third of our budget.

    3. Kyle Freaking Cassidy. My brother was trying to fund his concept album/self-publishing venture, via a Kickstarter that was still quite a ways away from his (not-outrageous) goal. So he started tweeting at celebrities and tastemakers and asking if they would mind sharing his Kickstarter link. Kyle Cassidy answered the call. He shared the link, and my brother met his goal within hours; soon he doubled it. He’d nearly tripled it by the end. All just because Kyle had watched his Kickstarter video and believed in it.


    You never know where these angels are going to come from. I didn’t know JS either; he came to my project through my co-producer. The only way you will ever know who these people are is to put yourself out there and ask.

  • ANon

    I have -never- funded amanda, and just got done reading some of these posts, and I sure have to admit that most, if not all, seem to have all been written by the same person. Same writing stylizations. Same euphemisms. Same analogues too.

  • Laura

    I was in a community play during high school. It was a big commitment: a two hour drive each way, every weekend for two months. For most people, it’s a family activity, but I was on my own. There was one family that basically adopted me. I ate with them, we shared sun screen, we car pooled, we hung out during breaks – I was included in any and every way. They even gave me gas money sometimes. I loved them all. But especially the dad. It was the first time I’d had a father figure in my life that I could have a real conversation with. I would have done anything for him except…. To this day I don’t know if I misunderstood or if that’s really what he meant, but we haven’t spoken since. I will always be glad that I stepped back when I did. I will always be grateful for the his attention and the kindness he showed me.

  • Angela

    When I started studying illustration after school my parents weren’t best pleased, but they could see how much I loved it and agreed I had talent so they begrudgingly supported me, however, I was also good at English and Science so my dad was a bit baffled at my choice. So it didn’t come as too much of a surprised when my parents moved to another county and just expected me to drop my illustration course and move with them. At the time I was also doing weekly chores for my aunt who has Parkinson’s disease, and out of the blue my aunty said she’d talked to my parents about it and offered to give me a place to crash until I finished my course. To this day I am grateful that my family helped me to try and realise my dream, even though they didn’t really understand it and recently I made them proud and bagged my first professional (albeit small) illustration job for a local agency.

  • Alexandra Scott

    I’m a singer & songwriter & I’ve been a self-funded recording artist since I left college. I always knew I was going to write books someday too, & in the summer of 2005, I started the first draft of my first novel. The writing was going swimmingly & I felt like I’d finish the draft in a couple of months – I had a firm grasp on it.

    Then Hurricane Katrina hit (I’m a New Orleanian). And while I didn’t lose everything, I never lived in my home again, and I moved something like ten times over the next two years. I couldn’t focus or really write and I was dealing with some serious health issues as well as a raging case of PTSD.

    Eventually I ended up in Providence, RI; I’d moved there because my boyfriend lived there, but we broke up shortly after I moved…so there I was, freezing to death and lonely and wondering what the fuck I was going to do with myself.

    And then I got a call from my friend Mary.

    Mary had Stage 4 breast cancer as long as I knew her. She had it for 12 years, and during those twelve years she wrote innumerable books (she wrote the Frommer’s Guides to Las Vegas & New Orleans, as well as fiction), travelled the world, had a happy & beautiful marriage, ate everything she could lay her hands on, especially if it had bacon or chocolate in it, and maintained so many friendships – and REALLY maintained them…long, beautiful, articulate, loving emails, even while she was in the middle of chemo. She and her husband Steve lived in Los Angeles but came to New Orleans several times a year, and always came for JazzFest, and the year before Katrina they pooled their money with three of their best friends and bought a house there. It flooded. They rebuilt.

    But we rarely talked on the phone. We mostly emailed. So the phone call was unusual. She said, “I want to read your book.” I said, “I want to write it, but I’m stuck.” She said, “I know you are, and I’ve been thinking about that. I don’t think you’re ever going to finish it unless you’re in New Orleans. I think you have to be there.”

    I started crying and I said, “You’re right, but I just moved and I have this lease and I don’t know how – ” and she cut me off and said, “You can have my house. You can have my house for as long as you want. You just have to be out by JazzFest, and you have to give me a first draft by the time you leave.”

    It really was as simple as that. Six weeks later I was in New Orleans, writing every day & on my writing breaks taking walks around the bayou with my dog, and on those walks coming to realize that I had to move back home, because everything and everyone I loved was here. (I moved home later that year and I still live here.) I stayed in her house from January to April, and I left her a solid first draft on her dining room table when I left.

    She died on Mardi Gras Day in 2010. I miss her so much, all the time. But I also feel so incredibly lucky that even once I had somebody who loved me and understood me and believed in me so much that she would say “This is what you need to write your book, and this is what I’m going to do to help you do it.”

    I try to pay it forward when I can. It’s so easy for artists to be jealous of other artists, to exist in a famine mentality of thinking ‘there’s not enough to go around.’ I try to think about Mary and to be generous, to be supportive, to be loving. Because what she did for me changed me and healed me. Like anyone who’s been making art for a long time, I’ve lost count of the number of people who’ve helped along the way. But this particular story is the one that stands out the most brightly. She was amazing. And this wasn’t even unusual, for her. She just did things like this, all the time.

  • Ellie Lu Lu

    Here’s a good story that actually involves YOU, MISS PALMER, The trip: to Boston. The goal: to see your perform with The Boston Pops I believe three years ago now. 2011. It was fucking fabulous, by the way, one of my favorite new year starts in my life so far. My friend, an avid fan of yours Erika paid for my train fair to get up there and also, where we stayed. She had made all the arrangements for the show and just invited me for fun. Just that, just invited me and asked nothing in return. I got you and Neil to sign the prints that were sold that night. That meant a lot to me. I love your energy and how you always make time for people around you. I love that you aren’t vain and haven’t taken yourself too seriously, despite your growing commitments. You’re so rad and I hope that one day I can have the courage to devote myself to my art, the way that you have. AFP rocks. Thanks again for a rad NYE. XXOO

  • Meka

    In Santa Fe, NM, I bartended to put myself through college. I decided it was time to paint, but had no supplies…well, I had my brushes and some oil paints. I began to ask my regulars if they knew anyone who might give me an easel and canvas. It didn’t take long (maybe a week) to receive these gifts that enabled me to be creative. Someone broke my heart and I painted myself whole again. Afterwards I showed the painting to some people and another friend gave me a frame for it. The owner of the bar/restaurant, which happened to be on Canyon Road, allowed me to hang it. Just when it was time for me to move out of town, a buyer came along…just like that!

  • Ksenia Anske

    I’m late to this conversation, but here goes. I’m a writer and I give my novels away for free (ebooks). There is a donate button on my site, and amazing things happened. People donate usually MORE than the cost of my books, $20, $30, $50, up to $150 at once. Once I mentioned on Twitter that chocolate makes me think better and write better, or something like that, and one amazing human being sent me a box of chocolates from London! (I’m in Seattle). Another time an artist sent me a pair of shoes with his art on it, yet another time when I mentioned I want to buy more books, I got a gift card to a local bookstore, where I went and happily spent the money. I can keep going, there were THAT many acts of kindness that happened, so much love has been poured, I didn’t fathom it existed. By giving away my art, I get so much more back, at times I cry, from being overwhelmed.

  • Bex

    My 13 year old son has a terminal illness. Not the kind that takes you away quick but it will eventually and it frames our whole family’s lives. Well, I have this friend, okay, she and I were both moms at the same preschool, but we were both more into art and music and stuff than sharing sage mommyisms.
    When my son was diagnosed, his dad and I went into a deep mourning mode that lasted maybe two years. We basically shut down. One day during this time, this friend approached me and said “ok, this is going to sound weird but . . .” and proceeded to tell me about her old college friend who on top of being some whiz doctor got filthy rich on the tech boom. I didn’t get what it had to do with us until she said “and I told him about your family”. She said, if it’s ok with you, he’d like to give you some money. At the time, we were renters in a shitty neighborhood, and parents to two kids whose childcare we couldn’t afford, in one of the most expensive cities in the US. I was underemployed, interviewing recovering addicts, making next to nothing. We had very little. And it sucked to not know how we were going to provide the things our son would need. So what she said seemed surreal.
    She went on to tell me that, though filthy rich, her friend never gives philanthropically to groups, as he didn’t feel they made enough difference to anybody. He only gives money to real people who need it. She told me the story of another friend, a local musician, who’s tour van was hit by a mack truck while on the road, who now needed a wheelchair and surgery. Her friend had been helping him for two years.
    So to cut to the chase, this stranger has been giving the maximum allowable untaxable gift with no strings attached to both my husband and I for five years now.
    We have to live in fear of losing our son every fucking day but there are things we don’t have to worry about. When my son needed a wheelchair, we jsut bought it. When we needed a house, we bought it (a foreclosed house in our favorite shitty neighborhood). When we needed an elevator to our door, we bought it. When we needed a van to schlepp the wheelchair, we bought half of it and our amazing community of friends and family fundraised the other half. When we’ve needed to hide our fears at a tropical beach, playing with our kids, we’ve just done it. Some stranger two states away thinks my son deserves a good life and we deserve to just worry about loving him. And we still don’t even his name. It’s beyond surreal.

  • Amy

    There was a piano at this library where I lived in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the country. Being a piano in a library, it wasn’t really supposed to be played (a travesty I know), just kind of admired. Or, more likely, someone donated it and the librarians were like… ok great thanks it’ll be right here. But the librarians let me come in after hours to play that piano. It kept me fucking sane. And I don’t mean that lightly, in a music balances me way. I mean I was in my first year of teaching, the piano at the high school was missing half the keys and was uniquely horrific, and this piano let me keep my sanity. God bless librarians everywhere.

  • Jordan decross

    I have been living with people who are not related to me for over ten years who have done pretty much all the money stuff for me, and let me be a writer in exchange for cooking,cleaning,child care, and paying them back when I can in money. It’s worked out pretty well, sometimes there’s friction because nothing is prefect but, I don’t make shit for money on my art and without these people, I’d be dead! Or working a soul murdering job.

  • Brian

    Clearly I’m late to the table here, but I just saw this post and I have two anecdotes to share since this is a wonderful discussion:

    1- You’re obviously already pretty intimately familiar with this type of story, but my band got out of our major label deal and then raised $115,000 on Kickstarter to make the the album we’re currently working on now, a vinyl-and-digital-only release on 180-gram fluorescent vinyl in triple-gatefold packaging with a companion graphic novel and a bunch more crazy stuff that we never could have done in the traditional music industry. It’s been a ridiculous journey to say the least, but an amazing one.

    2- My wife is currently working on her PhD, and her dissertation is all about how dances are bought and sold, and the fascinating economics of an industry that disdains commerce. Concert dance as a world is almost completely patronage-based and always has been, from Louis XIV all the way up through the time that Prince saved the Joffrey Ballet by giving them the rights to use all of his music for free.

    Keep kicking ass!


  • Angie Pants

    I spent six years living abroad, and during my first visit home, the flights from Bangkok were delayed and I missed my connecting flight in Vancouver to my hometown in Kelowna, BC. My purse had been stolen the week before, so I had no bank cards, no credit cards, and only a five-dollar bill that my grandma had given me as a good luck gift when I left.

    The airline and airport would do nothing to help me, not even let me use the phone to call someone who COULD help me. I spent two of my five dollars to call my mom long-distance on a pay phone and I just broke down sobbing, fairly convinced that I’d spend the rest of forever at the Vancouver airport. She told me she was going to do her absolute best (she didn’t have a credit card, either) to figure everything out and to call her back in an hour.

    I hung up the phone and despondently slumped to the ground next to another backpacker, who turned out to be from Montreal. She looked over at me and said, “Excuse me, I couldn’t help overhearing. I’ll buy your flight home.”

    In absolute shock I told her that, no, she couldn’t do that and she said, “Yes, I can. I’ll give you my email address and if you pay me back, you pay me back, but if you don’t, don’t worry. The money is worth it to me if it means that you can go home.”

    In the end, I didn’t need the money as my mom was able to sort everything out, but I will never forget that moment for as long as I live. From time to time I still keep up with her on Facebook, this beautiful girl I knew for only two short hours, almost seven years later.

  • Brittany

    I write an in-depth analysis of the original series of Star Trek for canonical romantic undercurrents between Kirk and Spock. There was an annual fan-run Kirk/Spock convention last year, and the con-runner said she’d love for me to host my own panel if I could make it. So I took a deep breath and asked my followers for the funds to get a ticket to the con and gas money. They raised the money (and then some) in less than twenty four hours, someone gifted me a con ticket outright, and a lovely woman put me and my girlfriend up for the weekend so I didn’t have to get a crappy motel.
    I met terrific, educated, endearing women from all kinds of backgrounds. Many of them thanked me for my work (I also hosted a Youtube series on the same topic) and my panel was a fantastic success. I only got there because of a couple dozen generous people, and I couldn’t believe something like alleged sci-fi homosexuality got me appearing at a con in Boston.
    People will help people do all kinds of things if you have the guts to ask.

  • shannonkringen

    I have had many trips funded over the years for my visual art projects. I did a public access tv show in Seattle called “Goddess KRING” and i developed a following…I was known as the naked lady who body painted herself and said whatever she was feeling-in a 28 minute long monologue improv. format. i was “naked” on many levels. i ended up being interviewed for Naturist Magazine (as i am a nudist/naturist and figure model for artists) i mentioned in the interview i was open to airline tickets from anyone who likes my work to help me travel. amazingly for the last 14 years i have had many trips funded by a fan of mine. I was sent to Florida for a naturist gathering 3 times, To Italy/France/Belgium/UK and Lenox Mass (near Boston for another naturist gathering) for an amazing 5 week trip. I have documented these trips via my blogs online and my paper journal and with my cameras. I have gone on many trips over the years and a few fans of mine have funded them. The most recent trip is coming up in June 2014 where i will fly to NYC to participate in Figment NYC i will be doing shoe painting and spoken word) much synchronicity has happened over the last 15 years (i did my tv show 1996-2011) and met many interesting people due to being so open and vulnerable and creative on camera/public tv. I now use the internet and ask for support in manifesting my dreams. i have been both criticized and rewarded for asking for support with my art projects. i have also couch surfed as a way to travel at a low cost. people are amazingly kind and generous when you ask for support usually. i am very touched and grateful for these amazing experiences.

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