On Scarcity and the Arts
The political landscape has shifted, and that shift is palpable.
Make no mistake: economic and cultural contraction is reshaping the arts at an alarming rate.
Funding pools are smaller. Costs are higher. Everyone is tired, and the group chat has gone quiet.
In times like these, it is tempting to retreat to one’s own corner and resource guard. It is a scary time for artists and arts organizations, and as a result, it’s easy to adopt a scarcity mindset.
Scarcity tells us there isn’t enough to go around. It convinces us that someone else’s success means less for us. It tempts us to tighten our grip and protect what we’ve built, often at the expense of community.
It’s a very human response, but I would argue that it ultimately doesn’t serve us.
Scarcity mindset keeps us small. It isolates us. It erodes trust. When we operate from fear, we stop sharing ideas, spaces, and opportunities. We stop imagining new ways forward.
So what is the alternative?
Community.
Listen, I am a second-generation artist. I am not ignorant to the impacts of a downturn. The financial repercussions of COVID nearly did me in, and I am only now starting to recover. I am not suggesting that we Pollyanna our way through. I am suggesting that we start recognizing and fostering the idea that the arts are an ecosystem.
Art cannot be made in isolation. Art invites. Art reflects.
Somewhere along the way (perhaps around the same time we adopted the term “arts industry”) we started treating the arts like a hierarchy instead of an interconnected ecosystem.
In an ecosystem, there is reciprocity. Diversity of scale, approach, and audience strengthens the whole. Small, mid-size, and large organizations each play essential roles, feeding one another through shared audiences, mentorship, and experience.
An industrial/hierarchical model, on the other hand, rewards bigness. It prizes scale and revenue over relationship. But the truth is, not everyone can (or should) be big. A top-heavy system is inherently unsustainable.
If we only reward the most seasoned, the highest earning, the most recognizable, where will our next generation of artists come from? How will they find the footholds they need to grow?
Further where does that leave newcomers, independent artists, and those from marginalized communities?
When success is defined by scale, we risk flattening the very diversity that makes our sector resilient.
In truth, size and budget do not necessarily correlate to impact. I’m sure we can all think of an example or two of a big-budget endeavour that didn’t yield good art. And vice versa, I can think of plenty of small and mighty projects that did.
Big, small, and everything in between is necessary.
So what do we do?
Resist scarcity.
Communicate. Keep the channels open. Share what you or your organization is facing
Share knowledge, space, and tools, even when we feel stretched.
Partner.
Trust that generosity can coexist with ambition.
Remember that our survival relies on the survival of others.
We can still advocate for systemic change, for better funding models and sustainability. Isn’t it best that we do that together?
There is room for all.