A local artist poses the question “WTF Can Artists Do During a Fascist Takeover?” – that’s the title of a new web comic by Providence-based artist, educator and organizer Jordan Seaberry. He joined me in the studio to talk about the inspiration of the comic and his advice for artists.
James Baumgartner: So, Jordan, what’s your answer to the question? What can Artists do?
Jordan Seaberry: The first thing we can do is we can choose a side and we can choose to put our artistic practices to service for that side. People think, a lot of artists in particular think about polarization as the enemy, as an obstacle, and I would love to be polarized against fascism.
Baumgartner: You published a web comic about this recently. Can you describe it for me?
Seaberry: This was a part of a project called Vital Conversations, which is a project of an organization I work with called the US Department of Arts and Culture, which is not, thankfully, a federal agency. We are not DOGE-able. We essentially are a performance piece. We’re a group of artists and cultural organizers who are prefiguring what we would want that agency to do if the federal government had ever actually made a U.S. Department of Arts and Culture. And so a lot of us on that team, we looked around at the world and felt really confused and hopeless about the political situation and how our own individual artistic practices, how our communities and networks might fit into that. And so we decided to each take on a project where we follow our own interests and connections and questions to have conversations about what can we do to actually stem the tide of the authoritarian takeover we’re living through.
Baumgartner: Why use a web comic for this?
Seaberry: This was a new project for me. I am a painter generally, which is very different from the more decentralized, sort of distributed way that comics and web comics and things like that live. So it was definitely a new step for me. Something I haven’t tried since middle school, making a comic book. But for me, I wanted to start at the most basic level, have a really clear conversation with someone who has studied this stuff, has really thought deeply about power structures, how political systems operate. And that’s Daniel Denvir, who is the person I’m talking with in the comic book. But on a personal level, comic books are how I got into reading. Comic books are how I got into art in the first place. And so I knew that for something where I wanted to go back to square one, I didn’t want to make a big oil painting about it. I wanted to go back to middle school, find myself back in the cafeteria, and figure out what I could learn from that.
Baumgartner: What were some of the comics you were making when you were young?
Seaberry: I was making superhero comic books on the one hand, and then I was also making a lot of really personal sort of diary style comic books. I was making a lot of comic books about music, about art and movies that I was interested in. I was a real nerd, in middle school and I’m very grateful for that fact.
Baumgartner: This comic looks a little bit autobiographical as well. Could you read the first few panels for us?
Seaberry: (reading) “ I spent the winter in Guatemala. I returned to the States after the inauguration and the first few weeks of the new regime. ICE was hunting people down in the streets. Life-saving federal aid was frozen. The Department of Education was about to be destroyed, and my painting studio was being sold to luxury developers. For once in my life, my obnoxiously endless optimism had run dry. I felt powerless.”
Baumgartner: That panel, the “I felt powerless” panel is vivid. You have a self portrait in the bottom left hand corner. You’re looking up, everything is red and black and brown. Arrows and lightning bolts are pointing at you. Tell me a little bit more about this panel. It feels sort of like an inflection point.
Seaberry: This panel really describes what it felt like to come back to the states after the administration had already begun some of its early actions against immigrant communities in particular, but as well as the academic left and just poor people generally. And so this feeling I had coming back and trying to wrap my head around this place that I had left just a month ago that looked really, really different. There were ICE gestapos snatching up my neighbors. People were, in Central Falls, afraid to leave their houses. There were nonprofit organizations trying to make contingency budgets in case all of their aid got slashed. I mean, it was such a different landscape that I knew I needed to go back to square one just to try and wrap my head around it. That sense of overwhelm, that sense of shock and awe is something that they want to inspire in us. They want us to feel so off balance, so uncertain about what we can do, if anything, that we don’t do anything. It’s a really effective tactic to make people feel too scared and too overwhelmed to leave the house.
Baumgartner: You have a panel that starts the conversation with Dan Denvir, a local author and podcast host. And this panel, it looks like you’re crying, but Dan is smiling broadly. What’s going on here?
Seaberry: This somewhat sums up our relationship. Dan is a dear friend and comrade. We work on a lot of projects together. And this was how I felt. I wanted to find someone who was an expert. I knew I didn’t want to host a Zoom town hall or a gathering or anything like that. I wanted to approach someone who had concrete answers and, like I was in middle school, I could just beg them to show me a path. And Dan is very clear-eyed, very thoughtful and methodical in how he approaches these questions. And so, he was the first person of course, who came to mind when I said, I’m falling apart over here. Whose shoulder can I put my head on?
Baumgartner: The comic goes on to suggest some things that artists can do. What are some of the basics here?
Seaberry: So first, what Dan offers that I find really helpful is to remind ourselves as artists, that we are human beings as well, That all of our expressive power isn’t just in our poems or our paintings or our compositions, but that also our artistic practices put us in rooms with people that we can build power with. So whether that’s curators, gallerists, composers and conductors. Whether it’s folks in literary houses, our practice puts us in places with people of different levels of power, and we have to build with those folks. So one of the first things that you can do if you have an artist studio that’s shared with other people is begin to build power with those other folks, host conversations, host hangouts, and begin to break down some of the overwhelm that so many folks are experiencing. Beyond that, I would love for folks to be thinking about unionizing their artists’ spaces. That’s something that we did at the Atlantic Mills. That’s something that can really change the balance of power and that local sense of power and control can go a long way towards stabilizing our communities against the purposeful instability that we’re being made to feel. But first and foremost, artists should remember that we’re people, and so just like anybody else, we should think about how do we build people power with the folks around us.
Baumgartner: It sounds like a lot of these things, you don’t even need to be an artist in order to do them.
Seaberry: Well, that’s the joy of it. It takes some of the pressure off of your artistic practice from having all the answers. You don’t have to make a painting that solves every aspect of the climate crisis because you are also a human being and making that painting puts you in touch with other human beings in the natural world, and you can solve problems there as well. Part of the thing I find with artists is that we get so overwhelmed trying to solve problems exclusively in artistic practice that we forget that we’re also around people all the time. We’re around systems all the time, and we can build power there too.
Baumgartner: We’re talking on Tuesday, June 10th, after several days of protests in Los Angeles that focus on immigrations and customs enforcement, president Trump has called in 2000 National Guard troops and 700 Marines so far. Some say without the proper legal authority. Are you seeing artists play a role in these protests specifically?
Seaberry: Part of what artists can offer movement-building and protests and marches and rallies, part of what artists can offer is a different optimistic type of vision. In order to be in the streets, in order to be protesting wrongdoing, you have to believe that it can actually do something. You have to believe that that protesting has the potential to change the world around you. And that is what artists are there to embody. And so that optimism, that hope, that belief that what you are doing can mean something, that it’s larger than yourself. That to me, is an act of an art practice. So aside from, you know, the things that we can see from the news such as beautiful picket signs, we can hear really wonderful chants, all of those are artistic contributions, but more than anything, I think the soul of a protest requires a belief in another possible world. That’s what artists do.
Baumgartner: Is there anything else you’d like to add?
Seaberry: Part of the reason that it’s so hard to fight authoritarian takeovers is that it’s really hard to identify them when they’re happening. There are big splashy events that happen, such as Trump sending 700 Marines into Los Angeles. Theoretically to stop the protests, which the LAPD is perfectly capable of handling. But, they’re seeking an escalation. They’re seeking a big splashy news story and the ability to snatch more power. But it also happens quietly, bureaucratically in how arts organizations are funded. The National Endowment for the Arts has been just strip-mined. Organizations all across the country that support not just artists and galleries and symphonies, but folks in all walks of life, communities all across the country. That bureaucratic fascism is just as dangerous, but it is so much more quiet. That’s why it’s important. That’s why we really want to encourage folks to be involved at the local level at the same time that you are fighting back against the big splashy stories, we also really need to have our roots in our neighborhoods because it’s not just happening militarily, it’s happening bureaucratically as well.
Baumgartner: Jordan. Thanks so much for talking with me.
Seaberry: Thank you for having me. I’m excited to have this project on your platform.
Baumgartner: Jordan Seaberry is a painter, organizer, RISD professor and legislative advocate. He’s also the co-director of the US Department of Arts and Culture. You can find his latest web comic, ‘WTF Can Artists Do During a Fascist Takeover’ at USDAC.US.
Theater Reviews: “Angels in America” and “Blues for an Alabama Sky”
The local theaters are wrapping up their regular seasons this month. Wilbury Theatre Group has “American Idiot” – a story of three disaffected young suburbanites, it’s based on music by pop punk band Green Day. That’s on through June 22.
Tracy MacDonald, executive producer for arts & culture at Rhode Island PBS has this review of “Angels in America” playing at the Gamm Theatre through June 22.
There are some plays that feel like history lessons. Others—like Angels in America—feel like a real emotional reckoning. The Gamm Theatre’s production, directed by Brian McEleney—a Trinity Rep veteran who actually played Prior Walter himself years ago. The play feels lived-in and urgent, like it’s speaking right now.
At the center of it all is Hass Regen as Prior. Prior’s humor isn’t just a way to cope—it’s part of who he is, even before he’s sick. He’s sharp, funny, heartbreaking all at once. And that humor, that wit, it’s how he keeps himself and others comfortable. Then there’s Louis—his partner—played with nervous energy by Ben Steinfeld. Louis just can’t face what’s happening to Prior, and he leaves without looking back. That leaves Prior completely exposed—stripped bare, alone.
There’s one scene that really summed up my whole experience—the reality of the crisis, and how much, how many people with AIDS were laid bare. Prior’s getting a medical exam. The nurse—Rachael Warren, calm and clinical but really human—is checking for sarcomas not just on his arms and neck, but other parts of his body, too. Prior’s joking through it because, well, this is just part of his life now. Then, quietly and without any drama, he drops his pajama bottoms and stands in front of us, naked. To Prior, it’s just part of the routine—nothing new. But for the audience, it’s surprising and deeply powerful.
That moment? For me, it’s everything. It’s pure, raw vulnerability. Prior isn’t hiding—and neither can we look away. The lights are bright and honest—not just on him but on us, the audience as well. No hiding in the dark. His openness isn’t just about his body or his illness—it’s about facing a truth none of us can escape. Hass Regen nails it—his humor, pain, and courage all laid out in one simple, powerful moment that cuts through everything else and speaks to human endurance and the need to be truly seen. It’s a reminder that this story, these struggles, involve all of us.
Angels in America Part One is now in an extended run at The Gamm until June 22 and Part Two comes up this September. Trust me, this is a show you want to see—it grabs you and doesn’t let go.
Artscape Producer James Baumgartner has our review for “Blues for an Alabama Sky” at Trinity Repertory Company through June 29.
The play was written by Pearl Cleage in 1995 and it takes place during the Harlem Renaissance just as the great depression is starting to take hold in New York City. The story centers on Angel Allen who recently lost her job singing at a Harlem nightclub, and Guy Jacobs, a fashion designer who dreams of working for Josephine Baker in Paris.
The costuming is lavish and puts us right into the Harlem Renaissance with these beautifully dressed characters. Guy manages to look dapper, debonair and dandy at the same time. The set is a little different from what I’m used to at Trinity. I’m used to seeing the performers use as much of the stage as possible, but this time, it feels claustrophobic, like a tiny New York apartment, or maybe the social constrictions of the time.
Those constrictions are at the heart of the play. Angel is trying to find her way after losing her job when she starts falling for Leland, a man who just came up from Alabama and has a very old-fashioned view of gender and relationships.
Taavon Gamble is radiant as Guy, dreaming of making it big while staying strong and true to himself.
And Cloteal Horne as Angel is so powerful. She has complete command of the stage and total attention from the audience. She’s fierce, she’s fragile, she’s world weary but still shows a hint of optimism.
The characters are a microcosm of the struggles and triumphs of the Harlem Renaissance and the story has so much resonance with events today regarding race, gender, sexuality, reproductive rights and more.
You can catch Blues for an Alabama Sky at Trinity Rep through June 29.
Correction: this article originally identified Rachel Dulude as the actor playing the role of the nurse in “Angels in America.” The part is performed by Rachael Warren. We also misidentified the role of Louis as played by Rodney Witherspoon II. The part is performed by Ben Steinfeld.
