Co-labour versus collaboration

1. 

   Collaboration:  1.  the action of working with someone to produce something. 2. traitorous cooperation with an occupying enemy.

Filing away some old emails, I felt a jolt of anger when I was reunited with an aggressive missive from a former collaborator. It wasn't unusual behaviour for him, but this particular communication (kept all these years in case of legal ramifications) had turned out to be the final straw for me. I made the decision to walk away from two years of hard work rather than risk my wellbeing and reputation any further. 

Since then I've had many, far happier, far less complicated collaborations with other artists. Messy, inefficient, awkward, frustrating, exhausting - yes, but all ultimately worthwhile. But I will admit I'm often wary (and even a tiny bit cynical) whenever I hear the words 'artists collaboration'.

You see, being part of a self-organised artist collaboration isn't like joining an established team or workplace. There's rarely a structure of responsibility, no established ways of behaving as a group, no etiquette, nowhere obvious to turn for mediation when things go wrong.

When permanent groups form, there are certain things you might expect to have to negotiate formally or informally: workloads (and how much each person has to take on), responsibility (who's accountable), and organisation (how much of it is necessary). But there's rarely much incentive to formalise these aspects when you're being as nimble as artists need to be. And so you stumble along, sometimes with positive results - but not always.

Meanwhile you learn more than you ever wanted to know about your collaborators' attitudes to trust, privacy, fairness, personal property, honesty, money, the law, the welfare of others. And your own will be exposed too. Of course, we all think our own attitudes are the normal ones. Which means collaborations can be very tense, especially if it's how you first get to know someone.

Working with existing friends can challenge friendships, but it also means fewer surprises, greater ease of communication, and a prior investment in a relationship that you don't want to lose. It also means you're a little more forgiving of each other's foibles.

But strangers can be successful collaborators too, as my recent involvement with the Preston Street Union proves. This loose collaboration, which grew out of artist Trevor Pitt's residency at Spacex in 2015, brought together a slightly random collection of around 20 local artists, and focused on the idea of "artists making things and making things happen". And that's exactly what we did for a few hours each week, over five weeks. Facilitated by visiting artists, we improvised short-term collaborations in small groups, making work with what was to hand (most often ourselves).

Previous collaborations have often meant grappling with long-term bureaucratic processes such as funding applications and project planning - usually during lengthy meetings. By contrast, these swift, spontaneous bursts of working with other artists opened up new and exciting avenues. Along with some genuinely thrilling moments, there were also times when the process led to little more than anxiety, paralysis and failure - but it didn't matter because each 'project' was quickly done and I always learned something. 

So if I have some guidelines for myself after all these years, they are these. Collaborate freely but keep collaborations short or at least time-defined. Move carefully: be generous with your time and energy but keep in step with others. The success of a collaboration is everyone's responsibility and you won't save one that's in trouble by powering ahead alone. Avoid bureaucracy wherever possible, but if you're doing anything that involves signing contracts, handling significant amounts of other people's money, or other people's property or safety, beware of collaborators who insist you don't need to organise. You do.