Fifty Artists Face Homelessness Days Before Christmas Due to Property Owner Negligence

What first seemed like a dream come true has turned into a nightmare for over fifty artists who came to Los Angeles from across the country to pursue their dreams. They were promised comfortable housing including utilities; along with a recording studio, dance studio, and self tape room; family dinners and artist enrichment activities; and regular cleaning services. Upon arrival, tenants of UP(st)ART Creative Living learned a harsh truth that those promises were merely a facade. Amid a global pandemic and record breaking rates of homelessness across the city, these hopeful artists were met with atrocious conditions and false promises, and are now living with no power or water and are facing the threat of spending Christmas unhoused.

Founders and Property Managers of UP(st)ART Creative Living, Sarah Emick and Jeremiah Adler continued to actively promote the co-living space as late as August 2021 as “ the largest coliving company for creatives in Los Angeles… where artists, actors, DJs, musicians, models, comedians, writers, directors, and dancers live, play, collaborate, & create together” even though the process to change ownership and remove existing tenants began in July 2021. Emick and Adler leased the property in Melrose Hill from a large corporation, ROM Development, under the guise of a “member-based club” and then allowed artists to move in as tenants. According to ROM agent Orly Maciborski, no one at ROM was aware that tenants were living on the property, and UP(st)ART had not paid them in over a year even though Emick and Adler had been collecting rent money from the tenants.

Singer Songwriter, Producer, Social Media Marketer, and former UP(st)ART manager and current tenant, Alejandro Chupina has a special insight into the inner workings of the company and its downfall. According to Chupina, UP(st)ART used to be a haven for artists, offering everything it claimed to. He joined the management team because he “loved the idea of helping artists throughout their journey,” but with a front row seat to the company’s failures, he was privy to the fact that Emick and Adler’s business model was flawed from the start. He explains how Adler would often comment on the fact that they maxed out several credit cards in order to start the company, then when they secured investors later on, “that money went partly to pay off the credit card debt, then to paying back the investors, which left no money for the company itself” to continue to maintain the amenities they claimed to provide. Slowly but surely, Emick and Adler canceled the cleaning services, and then the community events, and then the amenities. What was left for tenants moving in after that was nothing short of abysmal. New tenants coming in throughout 2020 and 2021 were met with mold infested living spaces, broken and neglected appliances, and of course the absence of all the incredible artist focused amenities they were promised. Chupina said of these false promises, “I think it’s sad that a company would take advantage of people’s dreams and emotions, because that’s what they played off of. They took the idea of what people wanted their life in LA to look like and they portrayed that to a T, they sold it to you, then when you got here, that wasn’t what it was.”

Cody Rose, a scriptwriter and long-term UP(st)ART tenant said of his experience, “When I first arrived, the place was chaotic, but did initially offer what was expected… Once the pandemic started, it declined at a very rapid rate, and it seemed as if the owners were doing everything they could to maintain their profits while completely disregarding their members health and well being.” It only got worse for Rose and the other tenants at the time. He continued, saying “The pandemic was hard on everyone. This company only made it harder, sending threatening letters demanding we get jobs rather than make sure we were staying safe from COVID. In fact, they continued to move new people in. The amenities went away. The management went away. Everything was essentially neglected from that point on.”

While Chupina and Rose were able to see some potential from UP(st)ART, tenants like Rey Rivas, a singer songwriter who moved in at the end of July 2021, long after any remnants of any organization within the company had faded, wouldn’t be so lucky. Rivas said “What attracted me most [about UP(st)ART] was the fact that there was going to be activities… and workshops, but there was none of that when I arrived. It was not the experience I thought I was going to have based on what they were selling. Overall, the reason why I stayed was because of the people here, not the place or the service.” These disappointments were certainly inconvenient, but with such a competitive housing market, LA newcomers had few other options. For others who moved in this year, the harsh reality set in quickly. Amasia Gordon, an actor trained in New York who moved out LA to pursue screen acting said of her experience, “the moment I got here, it was trashed… when I have a big audition with my agent, there’s flies and trash in [the self tape room]... I came all the way from the east coast and I was under the assumption that I was being offered more. It’s honestly just poorly managed.” For the time being at least, UP(st)ART was providing shelter and basic utilities, which was better than any known alternative, but the rapid decline continued with each passing month.

In mid-September, Royalty Jeffers and Kori Spikes, aspiring K-Pop artists and students at LA Recording School moved together from Atlanta and were shocked to learn upon arrival that no one was informed they would be moving in. Kori said of her experience, “We paid for everything and set a move-in date with Sarah (Emick), and once the payment was accepted, all communication was cut off… For me it was kind of scary because we paid to get here, but there was apparently no proof of that, and so I was really scared we were going to be homeless. As soon as we paid, there was no communication.” Shockingly, Jeffers and Spikes weren’t the only ones who had this experience, though they were the only two brave enough to come out anyway. One Yelp review posted on September 30th of this year says “Stole my deposit, ghosted me. I was supposed to move there and they won't respond to any calls.” Rumors that UP(st)ART would be shutting down began to circulate, causing panic among the tenants.

Writer and former UP(st)ART house manager, Justin Bean explained that after living in poor conditions since his April 2021 move in without any support from Emick and Adler to successfully manage the property, he was shocked to receive a text from Emick in late October saying that UP(st)ART was shutting down and that he would have to be the one to break the news to the tenants. Remembering that moment, he says, “It wasn’t fair. It was the lowest of the low, to put me in that position to have to tell everybody, I cried... We didn’t get all the information we needed… we have yet to get a full explanation of what is happening and why it happened.” Tenants scrambled to find somewhere to go, and what was previously close to 100 residents, dwindled down to nearly 50. Then the unimaginable happened. As temperatures began to drop in the first week of December, and without notice, the power and water were shut off, and notices that the gas would soon be shut off were posted to the doors of each unit. From Bean’s perspective, as one of the few tenants who was in semi-regular contact with Emick, he recalls how he tried desperately to call and text her, but she had completely shut off her phone. None of the tenants have been able to reach her or Adler since. With the lack of basic necessities, cold and flu symptoms quickly spread through the houses, resulting in missed work and unexpected doctors visits. Because no notice of utilities being shut off was given to anyone on the property, thousands of dollars of perishable food was spoiled, and no alternative arrangements could be made in time. Due to the fact that Emick failed to cancel or pay for the service, and given that the utilities were in her name, no intervention can be made to have the utilities turned back on by any of the tenants. Even now, none of the current tenants have received any formal eviction notices or communication from anyone in management.

Fashion designer and photographer Paye said of this experience, “I find it disrespectful that [Emick] already knew this was coming before I moved in and she continued to move people in anyway. They’re just liars to be honest, and I’m feeling really anxious now.” A sentiment that echoes through the house as tenants huddle together for warmth. Another tenant and Singer Songwriter who has requested to remain anonymous describes his experience since the utilities were shut off, saying “As everyday passes, Christmas draws nearer and I’m filled with dread at the thought of where my life will be in the coming year. I am lucky enough to have a mother who lives close by to provide me warmth in her tiny apartment, but it’s the coldness in her heart that prevents her from being able to understand why I could even be upset in my current position. I came to UP(st)ART to escape the narcissism and emotional abuse that has plagued my family, and I am left again feeling like I take up too much space, my needs are too great to be fulfilled, and my presence is a burden to everyone around me. I don’t want to be in a homeless shelter for Christmas when I have family to lean on. I don’t want to be cold, but the stress of living out of my backpack and sleeping on someone else’s couch is enough to halt all progress I have been making in my life. I feel the need to run away. I feel like something awful is about to happen, and I am awaiting the new horrors and unfamiliar faces that will follow.” The tenants of UP(st)ART are struggling artists, all with adversities they’ve overcome to be here, all with big dreams for the future, all with abundant talent and creativity, and none deserving of the horrific mistreatment they have received. Because of Emick’s and Adler’s negligence and deceit, these artist’s hopes of pursuing their dreams in LA have been hindered, and their mental and physical health are in a state of decline.

This Christmas, the only wish of the residents of UP(st)ART is to be given the simple gift of time. That is, adequate time to make arrangements to exit the property, as well as some sort of reparations for the challenges they have now been forced to face. They are a strong, loving, tight-knit family-group only asking to be seen as human beings, instead of obstacles standing in the way of a corporate gain. While they may be vulnerable and afraid, even against insurmountable odds, these creatives remain grateful and hopeful for the future.