Artist Story: Saya April Hillman

It’s my five-year anniversary of self-employment as a documentary filmmaker and digital media artist—a time period during which I’ve worked the hardest I ever have in my professional life—and yet I don’t feel that I’ve worked a day. I excitedly stay in on weekend nights to tinker with a project. I never look at the clock and wonder when quitting time is. Sundays no longer bring with them the impending doom of Mondays. “Boredom,” “bureaucracy,” and “time-waster” are terms now absent from my vocabulary.

After departing the 9-to-5 world in 2004, I knew two things: I wanted to be my own boss, and I wanted to experience professional passion. I made a list of things I love to do and things I wish I could get paid to do, not taking into account feasibility or silliness. Some of the entries included:

• Create collages, music mixes, and scrapbooks

• Plan events and retreats

• Watch documentaries

• Talk about Chicago and show it off to the world

• Host others in my home

• Challenge myself
• 
Karaoke

• Laugh
• 
Investigate social issues in impoverished communities such as public housing and education

• Network

• Wear flip-flops and jeans

• Work with inner-city youth

I have to admit it feels pretty good to revisit the list five years later, as I’ve been able to incorporate almost all of the items into my career, even the ones that don’t seemingly have a direct link to digital media. For example, working from home allows me to wear flip-flops and jeans, and being my own boss allows me go to mid-week, late-night karaoke since I don’t have to be “in the office” at the crack of dawn! 

I’d estimate that 85 percent of my technical knowledge is self-taught. I majored in English and Sociology at Boston College (BC), envisioning myself as the next Mike Royko or Jonathan Kozol. I fell into the video world by accident, as I stumbled upon a job posting on the BC Career Center website for a non-profit that produced documentaries on social issues. A year as an Associate Producer taught me much about pre-production, like research and script formation, but little about equipment or editing. So when I went out on my own, I looked for the cheapest ways to self-educate. I bought a $50 Final Cut Pro manual and taught myself one of the most widely used and complicated video editing software. I bought a $40 Photoshop manual, combined it with free online forums such as Creative Cow to learn Dreamweaver, and taught myself how to design a website. I offered my services for free or a minimal charge as an assistant videographer at a wedding, an editor for a non-profit’s annual fundraiser video, a videographer for a band, asking in return for a testimonial and rights to use material for marketing purposes.

For my first film, I decided to wear all the hats—interviewer, videographer, editor, distributor, etc.—so that I could truly experience what it takes to produce a film from start to finish and to save money on not having to hire anyone. The film made for a mere $150 (mostly tape-stock and mailing materials to film festivals), screened from New York to India, and won Best Short Documentary at the Illinois International Film Festival.

While I solicited advice, I made sure to also follow what felt right in my gut. Some of the best decisions I made early on were results of this philosophy.  Most of the established video-folk I reached out to for equipment advice suggested that I purchase top-of-the-line products and that I couldn’t live without certain items. But dropping thousands of dollars on a career two weeks in the making didn’t seem logical to me. So I did some research and bought what I deemed to be the most economical best quality items. Instead of a $3000 video camera, I bought a $700 one that I could pay off in 12 months without accruing interest. Instead of a $300 wireless mic system, I bought a $30 wired mic system that to my ear sounds just as good.  

So I had the tools; now I just needed the clients. The most effective method I’ve found to procure clients is to make as many connections as possible. I join activities whose participants run in different circles—from yoga to improv to volunteering to guitar—so that my reach extends further than if I just infiltrated one group. I volunteer for leadership positions such as a non-profit board member or a committee coordinator for my alumni association.  I donate skills and time instead of money. I make it a point to attend social functions solo; if you go with people you know, chances are you’re going to stand in a corner with them all night. And I make it a point to attend functions regularly, be they social or professional. You’re more likely to sell more of your paintings if you decide to attend Second Fridays in the Gallery District instead of staying home to watch Friends reruns.

The second part to making connections is to sustain connections. I remain on people’s radars by inserting myself into their lives on a continual yet intermittent basis. I invite people to events, throw parties, facilitate relationships between people I think will hit it off, take on leadership roles (so that it’s me people think of when they need a go-to person), and publish an e-newsletter that shares grant opportunities, job openings, cultural suggestions, and service referrals. By helping others, I’m helping myself.  

Paying for advertising can be a scary thing, as you’re basically shelling out money for an intangible, no-guarantee entity. I’ve acquired all of my clients through word-of-mouth. The few cold-call inquiries I’ve had resulted in wasted time, as I’d create proposals only to never hear from the potential client again. When people who were referred to me reached out, I used to go into my sales pitch until I realized that they didn’t need pitching; they were already onboard due to someone they trusted recommending me. The one cold-call tactic that proved successful and that I’d repeat came out of being sick of staring at the computer all day and a desire to exercise but still wanting to be productive. I printed up 50 flyers and distributed them at residences in my neighborhood, which resulted in an hour of cardio for the day and thousands of dollars in resulting projects. Similarly, every one of the freebie services mentioned previously led to eventual paying projects.

I would be remiss if I didn’t attribute much of my success, especially that first year, to the outpouring of support I received from friends, family, peers, and even complete strangers. From my mother loaning me money for an iMAC to my uncle connecting me with people in the video industry to friends hanging Mac ’n Cheese flyers in their offices to an online community member spending five hours one day with me to fix an almost disastrous video problem (and on and on), I could not have made it without the overwhelming support of others.

Now I ask anyone and everyone for help, regardless of whether I’ve known someone for five years or five days, regardless of whether their title is Receptionist or CEO.  I don’t dwell on “what ifs”; I attempt “what ifs.” I realize the power of the handwritten thank-you note. Asked all the time for assistance, I’ve had to learn to say no and to prioritize, but at the same time, always remember the supportive hands of others.

There are pros and cons to being a self-employed artist. I miss the security of a paycheck every two weeks. I miss being able to attend workshops and higher-education courses on the company’s dime. I miss going out to dinner or taking a vacation and enjoying the steak or sun at 100%, with no guilt clouds rolling by. I miss bonuses, someone else researching health insurance plans, the company holiday party, 401K matching funds, and laughing around the water cooler.

Yet I’d trade all of that for being able to go to Trader Joe’s, yoga, and the post office on a leisurely Tuesday morning. I wake up to the sun, not to an alarm clock. I have time to cook healthy meals. I don’t stress about the number of vacation days I have left, nor do I feel pressure to make my vacations amazing. I commute from my bedroom to my office. If I don’t feel like working, I don’t. Pantyhose, heels, and dry cleaning are things I see in the movies. I’m not asked to do things that don’t make sense, and I can make a decision without “going through appropriate channels.”  I say no to projects from clients who drive me nuts. I interact with the sun and fresh air.  There is no mundanity, there is no dread. Sure, there are things I’d change, but overall, being an artist kicks major butt.

Saya April Hillman, from Evanston, Illinois, is a Boston College graduate with a BA in English and Sociology. Saya owns a digital editing business, Mac ’n Cheese Productions, producing documentary films, teaching media to at-risk youth, and creating DVDs for individuals and organizations. She also runs Mac ’n Cheese Minglers, a networking group in which 30 to 60 people, none of whom know one another, come to her home for an evening of food, drink, games, and making new connections. She is a recipient of the Martin Luther King Scholarship, the Boston College Young Alumni Award of Excellence, and has been profiled in Time Out Chicago, Chicago Magazine, The Chicago Tribune, and on ABC-TV. She currently resides in Chicago.