The Things We're Not Saying: Is This a Rough Season, or Has Something Actually Changed?
I love Doctor Who, especially the revived series. The wild adventures, the Doctor’s complicated relationship with being a hero, and the idea that change is possible, and sometimes necessary, have kept me watching more episodes than I care to admit. Somewhere between the running, the speeches, and the occasional “surely this button won’t make things worse,” I started thinking about the work we arts administrators do.
When something stops working, we often want to get back to the version of our organization we remember. The season when subscriptions were steadier. The fundraiser that reliably met its goal. The audience that bought tickets weeks ahead.
I understand that instinct. When your staff is stretched, and the budget is tight, a familiar plan can feel reassuring. But the Doctor rarely gets to step out of the TARDIS and find everything exactly as it was. We should probably stop making “back to normal” the assumption behind our next season.
Recovery and return are not necessarily the same thing.
Read The Room And The Numbers
SMU DataArts’ National Trends 2025 analysis gives us a reason to look beyond one encouraging figure. Among more than 6,500 arts and cultural organizations in its dataset, paid and free attendance grew from 2023 to 2024. Average earned revenue, however, declined 18%, and 44% of organizations ran a deficit in 2024.
These national findings cannot tell any one organization what happened in its community, but they do show that a fuller room does not automatically mean a healthier operating model.
That is the sort of plot twist I wish came with a helpful musical cue. If more people are coming through the door while finances remain strained, we need to ask what kind of participation is growing and what it costs to make it possible.
Are audiences choosing free programs more often? Buying closer to the event? Attending once instead of subscribing? Are production costs rising faster than ticket income? A crowded event can be a meaningful success for the mission and still leave a financial problem to solve.
Find Out Whether This Is An Episode Or A Story Arc
One slow weekend can happen for all kinds of reasons. A pattern across several seasons deserves a different conversation.
Before rebuilding the marketing plan, I would compare similar events over time and look at attendance alongside revenue and costs. I would also talk to the people who hear directly from audiences: the box office worker, the teaching artist, the volunteer at the door. They may know that families love a program but cannot make its current start time, or that people are interested but need more time before committing to a ticket.
We do not need to turn every audience conversation into a research initiative with its own steering committee. Small teams can begin with the information they have and a few honest questions. In fact, research on change management across nonprofits suggests that smaller organizations can often respond quickly because decision makers remain close to daily work. That closeness is useful when we make time to listen to the people doing the work.
The question is whether the evidence points to a temporary difficulty or to a habit that has changed.
We may not know immediately. We can still make a thoughtful decision for the next season, watch what happens, and adjust.
Let The Mission Decide What Changes
This is where the conversation gets uncomfortable. Sometimes we hold on to an old measure because we built years of good work around it. Changing course can feel like admitting that work was wrong, when it may simply have been right for a different set of conditions.
At For de Arts, I use the S.A.V.I.C.C. approach to test a mission statement. It asks whether the statement is specific about what an organization does and whom it serves, action-oriented, rooted in values, focused on impact, clear about its promise to its audience, and concise. Those questions can also help us examine a program decision.
Suppose a lower-priced event is bringing in neighbors who have rarely attended before, but the revenue cannot support the schedule you have kept for years. Who is the event serving? What impact are you trying to create? Which value is behind the lower price, and what can you honestly promise your audience if you continue?
You might present the event less often, share costs with a partner, or change another part of the season to make room for it. S.A.V.I.C.C. will not balance the budget for you. It can help keep the budget conversation connected to the people and purpose behind the work.
That feels a little like regeneration. The Doctor carries a history and a sense of purpose into a changed form. Your organization can remain committed to its community and artistic purpose while changing a schedule, format, price, or assumption about who participates.
Keep What You Have Learned
The old version of a program may deserve appreciation. It taught you what people valued, built relationships, and helped carry the organization this far. You can take that knowledge with you without trying to recreate every condition that made the program work.
For an arts team juggling productions, fundraising, and the eternal mystery of where the folding tables went, this does not have to begin with a sweeping reinvention. Choose one pattern that concerns you. Put the financial numbers beside what you are hearing from audiences. Ask what your mission calls you to protect, and what form may need to change.
The TARDIS may make a return trip look simple. Our work rarely is.
As you plan the next season, what are you still waiting to return that may require a new strategy instead?
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