On the night of September 17, 2025, the warehouse building at 481 Van Brunt Street caught fire. I'm Justin Neely and I'm an artist. For the last 12 years that building is the place where I've created many different kinds of artwork, shared hours and hours of conversations about life and the world with other artists and amazing visitors, and sought sanctuary from the relentless chaos of the ever-changing city in which I've chosen to live.

It's one week later and I'm fresh out of eloquence and subtlety. Straight to it: I've opened a fundraiser for myself because the community efforts underway are beautiful, but won't make a meaningful difference to me. I'm in too deep a hole.

I've set a goal of one million dollars, not because I think I'll get it, but to make a point. It's not outlandish. It's not a request to become rich (not in New York City). AND It's possible for anyone.

It's not even difficult. I've been in the rooms where people have the power to make that happen—not just for one person, but for a community.

I understand that those people have to draw a line, as we all do when passing any person in need. But THIS IS TO THE ARTISTS: You are entitled to ask without apology.

You shouldn't be embarrassed. You shouldn't feel like it's a zero-sum game and you're going to deny someone else resources. That's not the world we live in. The resources are out there and how they're distributed is a separate question.

A college friend disabused me of the notion that I deserve it less than others. Or that anyone gives to anyone on that basis anyway. What human doesn't deserve safety and peace of mind?

It's not a contest. It's not a fixed pool of generosity. We will rise or sink based on what society thinks our value might be. But we can't be helped if we don't own our vulnerability. All of it. The sacrifices we've made to live this life of creativity and that drain resources others have on a rainy, or fiery, day.

Regardless of my cheek in this request, I believe the fire's blows will be softened by personal friends, other artists, and collectors who know me. That's coming your way, too, and you deserve it. Don't get in the way of people who want to help you, because you are the very people who help other artists (and anyone most vulnerable in society) when they're down.

To my friends and family, I hope I haven't offended you. But I can't do a simple and decorous marketing job.

I'm desperate and devastated and despondent, but life will go on whatever this GoFundMe does or doesn't do. I'd like a break from precarity.

I believe I'd use the space with less constant worry to lift up those around me and younger people now trying to find their way. But I'll do that anyway to the best of my ability.

This fire's brutally reminded me that I only have one chance to live authentically. My impulse to Zelig out and adapt to fade unobtrusively into my surroundings can be blessing, but it can also make it too easy to hide.

I'm done hiding. I'd like as much money as I can get because I have decades of ideas for the world that I'd like to be in a better position to unleash.

I don't actually anticipate a miraculous windfall as a reward for being disrespectful of these fundraising norms, BUT I can use every single individual dollar. Nothing too small, because every single cent helps.

And, frankly, I take a dollar as a vote in favor of not letting algorithms or behavioral engineering dictate our appeals for empathy and humanity. Compassion doesn't have to be gamified. And I won't do it.