Low-Stakes Art

Before coming to Emerson, filmmaking was something I did casually.  On my high school’s daily news and sketch TV show, most of the filmmaking we did consisted of me and silly friends running around town, filming ourselves being, well, silly. Of course, it was more than that—there were scripts, nice cameras, and microphones. But even with all the equipment, I never consciously thought of what we were doing as filmmaking. But we were filmmakers.  Scrappy, gritty, silly filmmakers.  

That’s how I became an art student. From the simple joys of creating meaningless little stories. They didn’t have to be grand. I just wanted to make something, whatever that something was. But in my head I always wanted to make my art bigger.  

Now, as an Emerson student having just produced my first serious film, Merry Go Round, I have found this craving satisfied. I worked with the largest budget and crew I ever have. With my co-producer, I rented vans, bought music rights, rented cinematic equipment, and applied to large festivals. That’s the freshman film school dream, right? Yet, at the end of the semester, I felt a little empty. I was so proud of Merry Go Round, but I was missing that collection of low-stakes films. Usually back home, at the end of the year, I would have a huge pile of them to show to friends and family. I realized I’d been so hungry for serious filmmaking that I forgot to take time to create on my own. 

Photo by Reb Czukoski

I have noticed, at art school especially, that art can become too serious. We want everything we make to be impressive on our resume. But I’ve realized the importance of creating “low-stakes” art—art that doesn’t have to be high quality, fully constructed, or even see the light of day. A lot of my friends at Emerson have inspired me with the way that they create their own low-stakes environments for art. Through different mediums, they consistently create without the pressure of producing something polished for the masses.  

The Low-Stakes Poet is a friend of mine who is a passionate writer. When asked about their low-stakes writing process, they say that it starts with journaling.

“I look forward to the time when there’s nothing between me and my notebook,” they say. Their journal entries then form into short poems.  

“I’m not very public when it comes to my art. It’s something for me. But I still want it to live somewhere more than a Google Drive,” they admit. That’s why the Low-Stakes Poet created a burner Instagram account that they turned into a micro-platform for sharing their poetry. 

“It’s really gratifying knowing it’s going to only like 20 of my closest friends. There’s no pressure at all, but it’s still something I want to be good for myself,” they say. 

The Low-States Songwriter is a friend of mine who writes music privately. “It never was intended to be private. It just turned out that way,” they say. “I would think of an idea, transform it into a song, and then just never record it. It's like a diary for me. You wouldn’t read your diary aloud to friends.” They add that they can sometimes be a perfectionist when it comes to presenting their art to other people, so the low stakes allow them to make songwriting fun and organic.

“It’s not that I’d be opposed to sitting down with a band and recording my songs, it's just that when it's low-stakes and private, it makes it more fun. Knowing it exists just between me and my journal lets me go at it full-force,” they say. 

The Low-Stakes Filmmaker is a friend of mine who is an award-winning narrative filmmaker, but in their freetime, creates small camcorder documentaries. “I’ve cycled through about 3 different camcorders. It started in highschool. I would film while hanging out with friends, but became much more religious when I started college,” they say.

They add that, as opposed to writing narrative films about their emotions and experiences, the camcorder videos document real things as they happen.  “I like to capture sort of evidence or documentation of things that happen to me,” they say. “Then I started posting them on Instagram, which acts as an incentive for me to actually edit the clips together and have it all in one place too, like a diary.”

These artists have set an example of creating a vulnerable space for their art to exist imperfected, and I hope they inspire you to do the same.  

Manni Burach