The problem is not funding. It is the way time is funded.

Over the years, I have heard the same phrase repeated in many contexts: “the project didn’t move forward because of a lack of funding.” I know that, often, this is true. I have also seen first-hand the exhaustion of those who work for months without any guarantee of support, the anxiety of deadlines, the permanent insecurity. I have deep empathy for those who insist on creating even when the conditions do not keep pace.

But, over time, I began to realise something else: in a large number of cases, what is missing isn’t just money; it is time funded in an adequate way.

Support models tend to pay for visible moments: creation, production, presentation, touring. They pay for the result that is shown to the public and that fits into a report. What is almost never funded is the interval between these moments: thinking calmly, experimenting, failing, remaking, maturing teams, and stabilising processes. That is where the work happens, and it is precisely there that many projects are left exposed.

I am not saying this as an outsider. I have been supporting organisations, artists, and groups for several years. I see projects that live in a state of permanent suspension, always “waiting for the next grant,” always reorganising teams, always reconciling creative urgency with administrative calendars. It is not a lack of will, nor of talent. It is a structure that funds fragments, but rarely funds continuity.

It is also important to say something that is sometimes hard to admit: perfect funding systems do not exist. There are budget constraints, difficult criteria, and human decisions that are always subject to error. And yet, I believe, because I see it, that many funding calls are managed by competent and dedicated teams who do the best they can within the existing conditions. The problem is bigger than the people working within the system.

When time is not funded, the risk shifts to the artists and the teams. Much of the work begins to be done in “invisible mode”, unpaid, and naturalised as a moral obligation linked to one’s “vocation.” And this is where we also need to be careful: demanding better conditions is not incompatible with recognising the effort of those who manage the grants. Both truths can coexist.

Funding time does not mean funding inertia. It means allowing artistic work to mature without always living on the brink of collapse. It means accepting that continuity is also a public value.

If we start to look at funding from the perspective of time, and not just the final result, perhaps we can discuss what really matters: how to create the conditions to remain, grow, and learn, instead of just appearing and surviving from grant to grant.

PS – In the next budget, create an explicit line for preparation, reflection, and follow-up time. Even if it isn’t fully funded, it changes the negotiation and the way the work is perceived.

Foto: © Kelly Sikkema | Unsplash

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