A Brave Space for Brave Art

How can the arts unify racially divided communities? Finding answers to that question was central to the founding mission of Asian Arts Initiative (AAI), a multidisciplinary arts center in Philadelphia’s Chinatown North that supports Asian American creatives and cultivates meaningful ways for them to connect with local communities through gallery exhibitions, performances, workshops, and other programming with a social purpose.  

Concerned about rising racial tensions in Philadelphia in 1993, Gayle Isa joined with a group of artists to form what would ultimately become AAI. AAI remains committed to diverse coalition building with artists, communities of color, and LGBTQ+ communities. The COVID-19 pandemic and its economic, racial, and social fallout confirmed its centrality as a creative and community hub, says Anne Ishii, the organization’s executive director since 2018.  

In 2023, AAI continues its focus on care for artists, and is organizing programming to inspire more nuanced understanding of identities, including but not limited to Asian American experiences. We spoke with Ishii about how AAI is making a “brave space for brave art.”   

AAI is both a creative platform and an advocacy organization. How does it balance those roles? 

I think place-based arts organizations, especially, struggle with this question artificial conflict—of relevance and urgency versus craft and artistic quality. But those things are not diametrically opposed.  We’re trying to be more forgiving to ourselves and be as relevant and as urgent as we can, while also understanding that we are still art practitioners, and the social issues that have risen to the foreground every single day of the last year can be examined through a creative lens. Anyone we work with has a story that’s relevant to the moment.

Recent issues—the pandemic, racial discrimination, instances of anti-Asian violence—are significant. Have these urgent pressures reduced the capacity for artmaking and creativity? 

The threats and violence are very real. We are in danger. That’s why we’re all organizing and why we’re all being activists, right? But those are additional responsibilities in an artist’s already full deck. To be on the front lines and come to the studio exhausted is not fair to the rest of our work. The best thing an artist can do right now is create brave art. But it's hard to do that if you don’t feel courageous.

Brave art—can we unpack what that means? 

I use “brave” in the same spirit that traditional museums use the words bold,  experimental, and excellent. I think people of color are unfairly demerited for telling stories that are too close to their identities. But it is precisely because of this context that their art matters so much, not despite. If you’re a brave artist of color, you’re working on your craft and centering your practice, but the rubric is not the standard “is this good?” but rather, does this art feel authentic? Is it provocative? Does it invite an overlooked perspective?  

With the growing constraints put in place in educational and other spaces where people access histories of other people, how do you see arts organizations helping to tell a true, complete story of who we are as Americans? 

When there are so many deficits in the public sphere, I think the responsibility begins with providing basic knowledge. We point people into directions where they might discover who we are as a people, understanding and even parsing the phrases “Asian American” or “Asians in America,” or “Asian American Pacific Islander.” Just unpacking that nomenclature feels like a really big part of our work. A victory for me is just when a young person can sort of use that phrase, those phrases, with confidence. 

There’s a lot of beauty here in Philadelphia. AAI finds itself in a city that statistically ranks poorly in terms of support for education, and with a high unemployment rate and a high rate of gun crime. The bleakness is real and very present. What we do as cultural producers and arts leaders, in this town, is create spaces for people—for young people, especially—to feel cared for. Any provision we can create to protect people from fear is a big aspect of our work. I think art has a real power and responsibility to help people feel a kind of a freedom that they might not elsewhere.  

AAI has long taken an intersectional approach to the artists and work it presents. How would you characterize the importance of this orientation today—and how do you see it continuing to grow and evolve? 

I was on a panel with two other Asian American arts leaders, and somebody said, “There’s a pride flag for the LGBTQ community and a Black power flag. Why don’t Asians have a flag?” The flags that this person identified are also Asian flags: Asians can march under the pride flag and Asians can also march under other flags. Being queer, or even African American, doesn’t exclude one from living and holding the trait of their Asian identity.  

Today, we’re working with Indigenous and Native American communities, blending of different racial and cultural communities. Gender inclusivity is also an important topic for us because of the way that Asian identity has been atomized by gender: an Asian cis woman is going through something very different than an Asian cis man. They’re both going through something very different than the trans communities of various ethnic communities.  

Intersectionality is a core tenet and inherent part of what it means to be part of the Asian diaspora.

How is AAI creating the conditions to make brave art possible?  

Right now, we want to make sure that artists feel like they have a protected pathway and the resources to make great art. This is a small organization, but we own the building. We’re here to stay. That my predecessor, Gayle, was able to create a permanent space for Asian American artists in a city not then nationally known for its Asian American arts is an incredible legacy. I feel very freed that I did not inherit an organization that needs to survive. Now we can experiment.  

What are the priorities now?

Programmatically, we’re taking a really keen interest in music and what it means to be an Asian musician in America. It’s a discipline that has been really complicated for Asian Americans. When you think of Asians in music, it’s really hard: we’re probably picturing a bunch of different things, but for anybody, it’s complex. We want to take a clear look at the experience of the Asian musician in America and what sort of expectations they’re supposed to live up to. There are various stereotypes: being first chair in an orchestra seems to be a resonant stereotype. A lot of people feel burdened by that stereotype of excellence. Then, on the other end of that spectrum, it’s pushed into this corner of music called folk or World Music. Philadelphia is home to musicians who we showcase to explore these ideas.  

Creative solutions are part of the work of artists—is that work valued?  

I worry when I hear artists say, “I also need to be doing something that’s socially essential.” Really it should be “what I’m doing is socially essential.” People talk about radically reimagining the world, but that’s not possible without a creative community.