What happens when a successful arts program outlives its purpose? Inspired by The Good Place, this final installment of Small Wins, Big Lessons explores how nonprofit arts organizations can thoughtfully sunset programs, redirect limited resources, and make room for greater impact. Through real-world examples, discover why letting go of familiar initiatives can be an act of stewardship, and how questioning what we've always done can help organizations evolve and better serve t

What can Ocean's Eleven teach small nonprofit arts organizations about collaboration? Plenty. From combining complementary strengths to building community trust, strategic partnerships can expand reach, resources, and organizational capacity. But true collaboration requires equity, shared decision-making, and mutual benefit. Explore how arts organizations can assemble the right crew, accomplish more together, and emerge from partnerships stronger, more connected, and capable

Arts organizations need money, but what happens when every message to supporters comes with an ask? As fundraising dollars rise while donor participation declines, small arts organizations face a deeper challenge: sustaining relationships that extend beyond the next transaction. This post explores why stewardship, belonging, and meaningful communication matter, and how organizations can keep fundraising without allowing financial need to become their entire identity.

Small arts organizations are masters at making something out of seemingly nothing. But what happens when that resourcefulness becomes proof that we can keep doing more with less? In the first article of "The Things We’re Not Saying", I’m looking at the hidden cost of making scarcity look functional, and why survival should never be mistaken for sustainability.

Capacity is finite, even when ambition isn’t. After stepping away from For de Arts for a season, I’ve been thinking about what happens when the person who makes everything happen suddenly has less to give. For small arts organizations, sustainability means building plans that can bend when life does. Sometimes the goal stays the same while the pace changes, and sometimes the most strategic choice is deciding what can wait.

This 5:10-minute audio sound byte has been digitally created to provide an accessible listening option. There is a particular feeling that keeps people coming back to a place, and it is not always about price. If you grew up hearing the Cheers theme song somewhere in the background, then you already know the line: sometimes you wanna go where everybody knows your name. There is comfort in spaces where you feel expected. Not tolerated or marketed to. Just expected. I think abo

The Hidden Politics of Season Announcements pulls back the curtain on what really shapes a season before it ever reaches the public. Drawing on The Devil Wears Prada, this piece explores how decisions made behind closed doors ripple outward, and what happens when marketing is brought in too late. The result? Announcements that feel aligned on the surface but reveal deeper disconnects audiences can sense, even if they can’t name them.

What happens when bold artistic vision stops being legible to the very people it’s meant to serve? This piece explores the quiet disconnect between intention and audience, and why clarity is not a compromise.

A crowded ballroom can look like success, but it doesn’t tell you who’s coming back for a second dance. Too often, nonprofit marketing reports focus on volume over relationship. The real question is who stayed, who engaged, and who chose you again. If your metrics can’t answer that, they’re not guiding strategy; they’re just filling the room.

Many nonprofit arts teams spend a lot of time explaining why their organizations don’t grow the way corporate businesses do. Not because they lack strategy, but because the ecosystem works differently. Revenue comes from multiple streams moving at different speeds. Audiences behave more like communities than customers. And growth often happens in waves, not neat quarterly lines. When we understand that, the conversation about marketing—and success—starts to change.

Marketing problems in nonprofit arts organizations are rarely just marketing problems. When programming, leadership, and mission priorities aren’t aligned, marketing teams get tasked with translating internal chaos into a clear public story. The result? Muddy messaging, confused audiences, and marketing blamed for a problem that started long before the email was written.

In large institutions, someone sets the strategy, and someone else implements it. In small and mid-sized arts organizations? You are interpreting everything.

Small arts organizations don’t fall because they lack passion. They fall because they’re fighting every battle like it’s the final episode. And right now, I’m seeing four patterns that are quietly costing teams money, trust, and well-being. Let’s talk about them.

Gen Z is buying vinyl. Millennials are deleting apps. Being “offline” suddenly feels aspirational. But for small nonprofit arts organizations, the question isn’t whether analog is trendy—it’s whether we understand why audiences are craving it. This piece explores what the “analog revival” really signals, what phygital actually means in practice, and how arts organizations can respond thoughtfully—without chasing trends or stretching already-limited capacity.

The idea that Black stories don’t draw large audiences has never been true. It’s just been convenient.

We say we want culturally, generationally, and economically diverse audiences. We commission studies. We sit on panels. We nod seriously in meetings.

Arts marketers are facing shrinking budgets, rising expectations, and growing pressure to communicate in polarized times—often without institutional support. Drawing on Arts Marketing Association research reported by Arts Professional, this article argues that organizational confidence, not individual resilience, is the missing infrastructure needed for ethical, sustainable arts marketing.

There’s a moment in The Office where Michael Scott announces a grand plan with absolute confidence… and zero follow-through. He wants everyone to love him. He wants every idea to be “fun.” He wants to be everywhere, all the time, loudly

As a quintessential GenXer, I’ve grown up immersed in a world of TV shows, iconic movies, and the comforting nostalgia of days gone by. I naturally see things in analogies—whether it’s comparing marketing strategies to “MacGyvering” a solution or drawing wisdom from The Breakfast Club or Ferris Bueller's Day Off . Today, however, the Marvel bug (definitely not Ant-Man!) has bitten me, and I hope you’ll forgive the inevitable puns and playful metaphors. If not—ah, well, such

But what happens when we balance empathy with insight—when we blend heart and head?