Drink in hand, standing in front of her collection of film stills for sale, photographer Ginger Fierstein posed a question: “What if we brought back patrons?” We were talking about the ever-present demands of capitalism and the squeeze of trying to make a living as an artist in one of the most expensive metro regions in the country. It was a fitting topic for our setting, where every wall and surface was filled with art like Fierstein’s for sale—art that reflected creators seeking ways to make their life and their work, well, work in the Bay Area. This was the Sagittarian Salon, this month’s event manifestation of Free*Party, a budding collective movement conceived by artists Chris Weir and Amy Copperman. It presents itself as an antidote to the commission-laden world of traditional art shows, and a community-fueled cure to the pressures of artistic life. While built on many sources of inspiration—Gertrude Stein’s own art salons in 1920s Paris, the Black Panther party, the historical anti-establishment East Bay scene—Free*Party formally began when Weir and Copperman opened up their homes. DUAL VISION Both Chris Weir and Amy Copperman hosted art salons in the East Bay for months before coming together to start Free*Party. (Photo courtesy of Free*Party) Enter the MHAH This month’s Free*Party event took place at Weir’s apartment, a three-bedroom enclave dubbed the Miles High Art Haus Gallery (MHAH). Rugs blanketed the floor. The place glowed with lamps placed low. To walk around, I slithered between groups of standees and sitters, floor cushions and tables, and impromptu activities like tarot reading and typewriting and bongo-banging. Off the main space, a UV-lit room beckoned. Weir’s personal art filled it: psychedelic, mind-bending paintings and drawings by the self-professed artist, poet and lucid dreamer also known as “c.weird.” Everyday objects interspersed with the pieces made me feel like I’d entered a stranger’s bedroom or otherwise unseen personal space. This whole event and movement seemed predicated on that feeling. “To open your house and have people come inside your house is a pretty vulnerable and intimate and, from my perspective, a very sacred thing to do,” Weir said. While I can’t say I felt the weighty sacredness one might experience at say, a religious institution—it was kind of a bumping house party—I did sense an inherent respect between all partygoers. Within the first hour of Free*Party, an eruption of “Happy Birthday” broke out. Most did not know who they were singing to—it turned out to be Weir’s birthday. A gorgeous cake was shared by all. It was special and welcoming and offered the chance to not just view art but also to coexist with its makers and get creative in the process. Weir began hosting open-call parties in July 2023, and remembers them as clarifying introductions to the kind of support people could lend each other. Fierstein remembers them as smaller, very spiritual, all-day affairs. Weir hosted about 14 of them at MHAH. Then Amy Copperman showed up. PERSONAL SPACE Chris Weir calls opening up his home ‘a sacred thing.’ (Photo by Chris Weir) Shared Spaces and Values About six miles east in the Oakland Hills, Copperman was also hosting art-filled affairs at her home, a property steeped in personal and local history called Arrowhead Art House. As she began to show her own artwork, Copperman realized she wanted to open up the experience. “The house was such a beautiful, healing place and a wonderful creative place. I wanted to more intentionally share that with other folks,” she said. Her events often centered wellness and yoga practices in line with her background. In April, a notification for Weir’s party came up on Copperman’s Instagram, intriguing her. No one else was calling their parties art salons like her. She arrived late, right as Weir was about to wrap up. No matter; Copperman said there was “instant friendship and camaraderie” between the two of them. They quickly realized they could produce together what they had been doing alone. “Chris and I are aligned that all creativity and gathering is healing,” she told me. Their combined parties went on to include opening ceremonies inspired by Indigenous tradition, as well as collective art exercises. They hosted the events at each of their personal spaces, as well as at Lumen Labs, an event venue and gallery space in Berkeley. December’s salon was their fifth together and the first to debut the official Free*Party name of their movement. The name works on multiple levels—reflecting the fluidity of the events, the lack of restrictions on who brings what and the unpredictability of what might happen. “When we come together, that is the free party. It changes every time; it’s constantly in motion. Ideally you can’t track it down, and you can’t shut it down,” Weir said. There are, however, some guidelines: “No gurus, no masters, no groupies, no pastors.” PARTY PLACES Events rotate between Copperman’s Arrowhead Art House (pictured here), Weir’s Miles High Art Haus and Lumen Labs in Berkeley. (Photo by Chris Weir) They apply another element of the name literally: free. Though there is a suggested donation to support operations, volunteers and the Sogorea Te’ Land Trust, no one is turned away for lack of funds. More importantly, money from purchases at Free*Party events goes directly to the artists. There are no commissions or entry fees. Creators benefit, and so do the people supporting them. “We as the networked organization have moved more art for independent artists in Oakland than anything else I’ve seen,” Weir said. At one event, he said, more than half of the dozen artists present sold more than one piece. Copperman has also found success selling her pieces at Free*Party events. The real measure of the events’ success may transcend transactions. Sure, there’s the reality of money everywhere: Venmo links to everyone’s art, a tip jar for MHAH, the aforementioned conversation about capitalism. Yet Copperman and Weir, who call themselves “co-stewards” of Free*Party, emphasize the role of creativity, the desire for revelry and the importance of community. A contribution, Copperman said, can be one’s presence. “May we each come with our unique offering,” read the invitation, “and leave feeling more abundant than when we arrived.” Should patrons make a comeback, Free*Party offers much more than art for sale.