A mural in San Francisco’s Mission District displays Latino and Latina marchers as well as a tiger in the foreground.
Credit: Fabrice Florin on Flickr

A few Mondays ago, the emails started to roll in. One after another, my colleagues announced their departure from leadership roles at the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA). These advocates helped culture thrive in every corner of the United States—on an annual budget that was less than 10 percent of the cost of the Trump Organization’s latest $3 billion condo project in Miami. Their farewell letters came on the heels of grim updates about cuts in the National Endowment for the Humanities, the Kennedy Center, and the Smithsonian Institution.

Let me be clear: President Donald Trump and his administration have taken a chainsaw to programs that affect actual life and death. By contrast, the arts may seem a matter of small importance. Still, for me, these were the cuts that broke my heart.

For instance, I help run one of the leading university-based arts administration departments in the country. For more than 50 years, our program at Drexel University in Philadelphia has helped train thousands of students for careers in arts management, fundraising, community engagement, and cultural planning.

And yet, I have a confession to make. To paraphrase Shakespeare, there is something rotten in the way arts and culture work in the United States. The Trump administration’s actions, harmful though they are, are a wake-up call. For too long, the arts have been an elitist, exclusive space. The chance now is for arts workers and creatives to heed that call—and do better.

Arts and Democracy

The current upheaval of our sector gives those of us in the arts and creative fields an opportunity to rethink everything. Instead of seeking a return to the status quo, we have the chance to place culture and creativity at the center of US political life.

Artists explore complicated questions. They help to open new ways of understanding and acting in the world. They take us on a collective journey that can be joyful and exhilarating.

There is something rotten in the way arts and culture work in the United States. The Trump administration’s actions, harmful though they are, are a wake-up call.

For me, nothing compares to a live jazz drummer pushing the beat on the ride cymbal, while a trumpeter dances up and down the scales. No laughter is more genuine than an improv theater group that takes an audience suggestion somewhere very, very silly.

These tools of group process, improvisation, and deep listening are vital tools for building a democratic culture. Arts leader and former NEA Chair Maria Rosario Jackson linked the domains of democracy and creative practice, when she said during a 2024 commencement speech that “creating and experiencing art is one of the most powerful ways to develop the skills and habits needed to be curious, to ask questions, and to fulfill the duties of citizenship in a participatory democracy.”

Legitimation Crisis

Of course, many people have lost faith in the US political system. Even before the 2024 elections, 68 percent of people surveyed by the Pew Research Center said they were dissatisfied with the way America’s democracy works.

Discourse on democracy may sound appealing, but try asking poor people, Black people, queer people, youth, people with disabilities—the list is long—how much influence they feel they have on how the system functions. The answer you’ll get in most cases, simply put, will be little or none.

And this popular perception is not wrong. Back in 2014, political scientists Martin Gilens and Benjamin Page published a study that found that “business interests have substantial independent impacts on US government policy, while average citizens and mass-based interest groups have little or no independent influence.”

In reality, what the media likes to call “democracy” feels out of reach to most Americans, especially if by “democracy” we mean popular control over governance. As it happens, a similar malady affects the thing that many people like to call “the arts.”

In fact, both politics and the arts are widely considered the province of elites, removed from everyday life. Too many political leaders are “sorry, not sorry” about this. Political scientist Nicholas Tampio wrote back in 2017: “In recent years, numerous political theorists and philosophers have argued that experts ought to be in charge of public policy and should manipulate, or contain, the policy preferences of the ignorant masses.” And philosopher Olúf ẹ́mi O. Táíwò noted in 2020 that “when elites run the show, the group’s interests get whittled down to what they have in common with those at the top.”

I have seen firsthand the power of arts breathing life into democratic practices firsthand….Instead of talking about democracy, we’re trying to improvise it together.

My own field of arts and culture has also been content to reward experts who embody “excellence” with funding and institutional support. Notwithstanding recent efforts to support equity, diversity, and inclusion, the arts field remains mostly dominated by large, typically Eurocentric institutions, like ballet companies and symphony orchestras that receive the lion’s share of funding from private philanthropy.

Sixty percent of arts philanthropy goes to just 2 percent of cultural institutions, according to research by Holly Sidford and Alexis Frasz of the Helicon Collaborative. These institutions generally do a poor job of speaking to the hopes, fears, and questions of everyday people, steeped in symbols and behaviors that are utterly incomprehensible to the uninitiated.

For example, I may be a university professor, but even I have only a foggy idea of how the Electoral College works. Nor can I figure out the appropriate time to applaud during a classical music concert. Yet somehow these systems claim to represent us.

Instead of leaving our fate to the elites, there is an opportunity, particularly in this moment of crisis, to use the arts to build a true multiracial democracy through participatory, collective, creative action.

Building Democratic Culture Through the Arts

Over the last year, I have seen firsthand the power of the arts breathing life into democratic practices. I’ve been gathering artists, urban planners, policymakers, and students to explore the ideas raised in Democracy as Creative Practice, a book I coedited with cultural planner Tom Borrup.

Instead of talking about democracy, we’re trying to improvise it together. We’ve pretended our bodies were trees in Nashville, generated performance poetry in Denver, and devised theater skits in Spain. After the artist-facilitators help us create something together in real time, only then do we sit and talk about democracy and “the issues,” and have noticed the conversation flows much more easily. There is even video evidence of the fun we had in West Philadelphia, when we used art to reclaim democracy.

The arts are a radical act that enables sovereignty over our own narratives and our own attention in a time when attention has been coopted as a for-profit commodity.

One moment stands out. At a pro-democracy conference held this past April in Toronto, I led workshop participants in a surrealist writing game. Vocalist Roula Said helped us transform these poems into a set of improvised songs. Choreographer Shannon Litzenberger turned the whole glorious mess into a folk dance.

The participants, including policymakers, funders, scholars—not the typical arts crowd—laughed, sang, and danced together. We moved beyond rational argumentation into embodied cocreation. The rest of our conversations about the US-Canada relationship and the future of democracy proceeded from a place of intimacy and camaraderie that no group of strangers could ever attain at a different sort of political meeting.

Envisioning a New Role for the Arts

When I describe participatory arts practices, I often get arched eyebrows and am regularly asked: “If everyone is an artist, does that mean that anything is art? Don’t good artists have to spend 10,000 hours practicing first?”

I respond with a smile. Art has the capacity to be many different things; there is room for experts, hobbyists, and dabblers alike.

I am a mediocre piano player, so I pose no threat to Thelonious Monk. In fact, I spend more time and money than most people I know so I can see professional artists practice their craft, since I know firsthand how hard it is to play music well.

Creative practice is everyone’s birthright. When it’s done as a collective activity by amateurs and experts alike, we can hold each other in community and bolster our brave explorations.

The Path to Rebuilding Culture

In short, to rebuild democracy using creative practice, the arts and culture sectors need to make their own structural changes and clean our own house.

We need to start with a narrative shift. Arts and culture are not just about excellence. Creativity is also a vital tool to make sense of our individual and collective experience. The arts are a radical act that enables sovereignty over our own narratives and our own attention in a time when attention has been coopted as a for-profit commodity and narrative sovereignty is a battleground—politically, technologically, and economically.

Artists should be embedded in government agencies to make them function better. Theater should be part of the curriculum in every K-12 classroom, not just an elective where funding permits. Participatory art is key to reimagining our cities.

Certainly, it is important to join the fight to save the NEA and the Smithsonian, but let’s not leave it at that. Let’s remake society around our collective artistry. I commit to being part of building a creative democracy, and I am not alone.

Now that US democratic practices and the arts are in free fall, this is an opportunity to assert that their fates are inextricably linked. Let’s not greet Trump’s takeover of culture with a shrug just because other vital systems are under threat.

Resisting the enclosure of our own minds, and our bodies—that is what democratic, revolutionary praxis is all about. This is especially the case when done collectively and made visible so that we may bolster each of our efforts and exploration.