Southwest Contemporary founder Lauren Tresp reflects on a ten-year entrepreneurship journey, from taking over the legacy of Santa Fe’s The Magazine to establishing the leading contemporary arts publication covering the greater American Southwest.
Ten years ago this month, I became a business owner and a magazine publisher for the first time. I’d been a regular contributor to The Magazine, Santa Fe’s longtime hyperlocal art mag, for several years, and had this harebrained, naïve idea that I could reinvigorate and modernize a waning publication that meant so much to me, and to so many others.
It was, honestly, a very dumb decision. I had no idea what I was getting into, or how to make it work. All I had was some combination of ambitious vision, late-twenties gumption, and, as it turns out, sheer grit.
Early in my ill-advised entrepreneurial journey, I received a powerful mantra from a mentor: “Whatever you’re unhappy with in your business, look in the mirror.” It was a message about accountability and humility, about problem-solving my own shortcomings. And so, ten years ago, I threw myself into receiving as much education and wisdom as I could; to building a team of incredible talent and dedication; to crafting an organization that can live on when it’s done with me.
On the flip side of this mirror, this means that if you’ve been following Southwest Contemporary’s arc since 2019 (and the final few years of The Magazine’s before that), you likely know me a lot better than you realize. You’ve seen my life’s work unfolding over the past ten years, every proud step and humbling misstep. I imagine (and hope) few entrepreneurs experience this in such a public way, but the transparency inherent in it has informed Southwest’s dedication to ethical transparency, as well.
So, what more can I share with you after ten years that you haven’t already witnessed? That I’ve grown and continue to grow, as a business owner and as a person, in ways I couldn’t have imagined and that still perplex me. That this has been the most challenging and rewarding work of my life. That the depth of my exhaustion from the hustle is matched only by my enormous daily gratitude for all of the people within Southwest’s community (including you, dear reader). That I continue to be surprised, enchanted, and learn from the creators, colleagues, writers, thinkers, readers, partners, and others that I have the privilege of engaging through this work.
I have fears about the future. I’m afraid that an increasingly algorithmically manufactured, maximally extractive internet might blot out Southwest altogether, and other independent journalism outlets like us. But I also have a deep conviction that communities need to be in dialogue with culture in order to examine and consider what it means to be a person, living a fulfilling life alongside other people. That keeping in touch with the infinite variety of human experience and expression is the key to staying soft-hearted and open-minded in a coarse world.
It’s always taken a village to do this work. But there was a time when my hand touched everything we did. We’ve grown so much as a team and organization that that can no longer be true (happily). Now I have the honor of holding this big, unwieldy project with my arms spread wide; of steering the ship, but mostly just getting out of the way as our team of collaborators brings their own unique talents to this work.
Learning on the fly, being challenged, failing, overcoming, problem-solving, being surprised, embracing flexibility, encountering the unimaginable, asking for help—that’s pretty much the whole point.
In 2016, I couldn’t imagine this business making it ten years. I hoped for three, then five, then maybe a couple more. And now here I am, with so much to be proud of. But, this essay aside, I don’t spend much time looking back when there is still so much more to do! Southwest Contemporary has big plans for the next ten years: to broaden our community and deepen community engagement as we try to narrate the story of contemporary art and culture across the Southwest. But I’ll save that for another day.
I fear this all sounds sentimental and grandiose, but if I can’t be effusive in my ten-year reflection essay, what’s the point? So, in that vein, there’s one last thing: my unsolicited words of wisdom. If you’re considering undertaking a Big Creative Project of your own, know that there is no one out there waiting for you to do it. No one is going to invite you to do it. There is no right time. And you’ll never be fully prepared, financially, emotionally, or mentally. But learning on the fly, being challenged, failing, overcoming, problem-solving, being surprised, embracing flexibility, encountering the unimaginable, asking for help—that’s pretty much the whole point. For me, I wouldn’t have had it any other way. So, take the leap. Do the thing! And be open to the experience.
Ok, that’s enough from me. Thank you, thank you, thank you for being a part of my journey. With any luck, I’ll be back with another reflection in January 2036. For now, I need to get back to work.
Ever onward!
