April Fools, 2025

April 1st. The day of fools. But for Northern Ireland’s arts sector, April Fools’ Day has lost all novelty—it’s just another date on the calendar when absurdity takes centre stage.

Today marks the beginning of the new financial year. Not a single annually funded arts organisation has received a Letter of Offer from the Arts Council of Northern Ireland. No one even knows if they met the threshold to receive funding. We are now officially into a new working year with not a penny of funding in place, no contracts signed, no safety net, no core support from our principal funder - just a hope that something might land in the inbox before insolvency kicks in, or the protective redundancy notices get sent.

Last year, this situation was unprecedented. It was truly shocking. In 25 years, I’d never known such an instance.  Bear in mind that in that quarter of a century, the arts have professionalised massively here. And the whole area of applied creativity is so embedded in every facet of publicly funded arts services right across the country.  But for this to happen again - this year, with all we know, with all we have said, with all the evidence that we continue to lay out? That’s not just alarming any more ; it’s absurd. Who was it that said: “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.” That’s right, apparently the same fellow who said “Not everything that counts can be counted.” Go figure Einstein!

Given the year we’ve just had, what’s the strategy to take things forward? The Arts Council of Northern Ireland’s 10-Year Strategic Plan, 2024–34 - which had only recently been developed through extensive consultation and which has guided every funding application over the past year, seems to have been effectively pushed aside. Now, whatever you may feel about such strategies , we all need parameters to work within, especially when we anticipate gaining investment from the hard-pressed public purse. And we know that despite that corporate language and the objectives, this is intended to support the creative sector here and all that flows from that. But that sectoral engagement and those ambitions have seemingly been overwritten by just a few lines in a ministerial statement and a Letter of Expectations. And when you compare the broad, ambitious aims of the ACNI strategy - supporting artistic excellence, inclusion, sustainability, and access across all communities - with the minister’s rather minimalist declaration and somewhat vague expectations, whilst the contrast in presentation could not be starker, there seems to be so much alignment in the substantive priorities and direction: wellbeing, inclusion, community engagement, creative participation, and collaboration. So why, then, the realignment? Why the implication that what we have all been doing over the years has somehow failed, when the strategic direction of travel already broadly matches? Priorities such as widening participation, enhancing inclusion, fostering innovation, and contributing to wellbeing are present in both. Given this alignment, it is reasonable to ask: why introduce ambiguity, risk, and delay when the means to deliver those objectives are in place? 

And, if that isn’t the case, what is? Where is the ministerial strategy for the arts… what's the timeline?

Meanwhile, our Programme for Government, for what it's worth, talks of wellbeing. Of tackling inequality. Of cross-departmental collaboration. Of investing in people, place, and opportunity. But how does it square with the fact that not one arts organisation knows if it can keep its staff, deliver its projects, or even pay the electricity bill?

What’s more, every publicly funded arts organisation in this country is governed by unpaid trustees, (directors and board members), whose own personal liability is the guarantee that underpins all these charities. And all publicly-funded arts organisations are charities, with objectives approved by the government, to carry out fundamentally beneficial support to our society. Each and every one of them. Its volunteers who offer oversight to them, who are charged with the responsibility to ensure that their charities are run safely and compliantly. What do these people do today, as a whole sector holds its breath…again? Do they have reserves? Is it too risky to operate a charity in this situation, with no surety about anything? Should their risk registers light up red across the board? At what point do these organisations fall foul of charitable legislation around illegal trading? Is this the way good governance works or do those politically charged with supporting the arts bear some responsibility too?

The PfG talks more about enabling sectors to flourish. It talks about innovation, creative industries, skills development, cultural inclusion, and mental health. It gestures toward a vision of a joined-up, vibrant society. But on the ground? The people delivering all that vision: the organisations, volunteers, artists, facilitators, and communities, what do they get?

Yes, this April Fools day, just who are the fools? It's us isn’t it?

Because we are asked to believe. To trust that funding will come, with no guarantee it will. That a strategy is coming. That investment is on its way. Are we deluded? 

Despite it all, the sector endures. It adapts. Perhaps foolishly, it still shows up. But let’s not mistake that faltering resilience for consent. Let's not pretend that the sector's determination is a vote of confidence in all this. People have mortgages, dependents and families, responsibilities… and loads of skill and ambition.

Elsewhere in the UK, investment in culture is being ramped up. Grand announcements. Real money. Concrete commitments. Here? We’re still waiting …

So again: are we the fools?

The ones who still perform on the high wire—with no safety net in place, only protective redundancy notices waiting in the wings? The ones who must keep their balance while the ground beneath them shifts unpredictably? 

The minister first announced “new priorities” back in July 2024. It’s now April 2025. So:

Where is the strategy?

When will we see a draft?

Who has been consulted in its development?

When will the statutory consultation begin?

And what will the timeline be for implementation?

Because if this drags on, we may well find ourselves at the end of 2025, once again facing a December deadline for annual funding applications without a coherent strategy to apply to… And what then? Will it be the same next year? Will this whole sector be asked to suspend disbelief again and accept this narrative, this continuing drama?

And why, having refined so many multiple cultural strategies, reports, and consultative frameworks (culminating in the ground-breaking cross-departmental co-designed Investing in Creative Delivery 2023, which took two years and involved expert input from all corners of culture arts and heritage sectors), does government continue to rewrite the script? Why, when representatives and leaders responded to the challenge and have co-designed and collaboratively developed expressing articulately, objectively, just where culture, arts and heritage are and how they can be better supported, why is all that being sidelined, as we wait for piecemeal strategies, one for the arts, one for culture… all apparently coming soon? 

I recall being at a meeting, way back in 2003, where representatives from across those self-same sectors bemoaned the fact that we continued to have work in silos instead of recognising how interconnected our processes could become and how much more effective our collective creative and community facing support could be. That was 22 years ago. As glaciers recede at a frightening pace across the globe, we can no longer point to their incremental pace…Culture and arts and heritage don't live in isolation  - they live in schools, in hospitals, in youth centres, businesses, in streets and city halls, old people's residential care, as well as theatres, pubs, institutions, museums, libraries, tourist attractions…They underpin who we are and what we do. They are interconnected. They are the very basis of how we see ourselves and how we let others see us. 

And the ministerial Letter of Expectations of February this year, talks about respect, pointedly saying that funding must not support anything “disrespectful of any tradition.” What does that mean? Is it disrespectful to our tradition of making art in our community, our long established customs of supporting truly ground-breaking arts organisations and artists, to now further destabilise the work we do, the work we have shown to be exemplary, compliant with all existing ambitions and objectives; produced year on year despite the worst levels of under-investment in these islands for decades? Does that constitute respect? Is it respectful to the communities of interest, practice or place, communities on the very margins of society, and our artists and artisans, musicians and facilitators, or those whose ethnicity or perhaps disability creates even more obstacles to participate in the cultural life of this place… does it show respect for all our collective traditions and ambitions to have everyone hold their breath, performing a high wire act without a safety net?

Are artists meant to tiptoe quietly around everyone and everything; every interpretation of identity, history, or society? Has the traditional role of art making changed? And if we are to be told that it has, how do we respond? Will we be informed just how in the new strategy? 

And yet, across the water, in Westminster, Jennie Lee’s legacy from 1948 is being invoked again. Lisa Nandy, Secretary of State for DCMS, speaks of arts everywhere, of £270 million in new funding, of a renewed cultural compact with communities. Fit-for-purpose infrastructure. A vision of culture embedded in everyday life. A moment of renewal for citizens of …well not here. Because let’s be absolutely clear - UK arts policy has no impact in Northern Ireland. These announcements don’t trickle down or across. Even when there is a Barnett consequential, would we see any of that additional money that represents that hope of renewal? No,  the funding gets swallowed up in the Northern Ireland block grant, never to be ring-fenced or invested in our local cultural infrastructure. Not a penny of that cultural succour is guaranteed for any artist or organisation, or venue here. Or has there been a statement in that regard that I foolishly missed? Unfortunately, no, there hasn’t. 

So whilst we might applaud the creative ambition of “across the water”, we are not even an audience…just bystanders. 

So maybe that’s the ultimate April Fool’s, beyond the joke. That we keep going. That we do it for love, for community, for passionate belief. That we somehow convince ourselves that holding it all together is enough, is a necessity turned virtue. But is it? The definition of resilience is not being overwhelmed. 

So no, perhaps we shouldn’t smile politely through this one, on this April Fool’s Day…

Five Years On: locking down

March 2020 was a time of huge uncertainty. Information was conflicting, government advice was unclear, and the arts sector—like many others—was left wondering how best to proceed. As CEO of Community Arts Partnership, I found myself facing a difficult decision: whether to wait for official mandates or to act pre-emptively to protect staff, artists, and the communities we served. I consulted our board and impressed on them the urgency I felt. 

We decided to close our doors before government restrictions were enforced. It was not an easy decision. The weight of responsibility was immense, and there was no precedent for a crisis of this magnitude. Where some in the contemporaneous media questioned whether it was necessary, for me and our staff and board, we expressed relief, understanding quickly and sympathetically the seriousness of the situation. That early decision to shut down all direct contact work marked the beginning of a long and challenging road.

Closing the doors was just the first step. The immediate challenge was figuring out how to keep things going in a world that had suddenly shifted online. The scramble to adapt was chaotic: staff members had to set up home offices overnight, artists needed to find new ways to engage with their audiences, and community groups—many of whom relied on face-to-face interaction—had to adjust to digital platforms that were unfamiliar and, in many cases, inadequate for the kind of work they did.

Some aspects of the transition worked better than expected. Digital meetings and collaborative tools became lifelines, allowing work to continue in a way that wouldn’t have been possible even a decade earlier. But there were also gaps. Not all projects could be transferred online, and for some artists, the shift to digital engagement meant an immediate and perilous loss of income and opportunity. We found ways to support. We signposted and we filmed; we edited, we zoomed and then we zoomed some more. The shift wasn’t just logistical; it had a profound emotional and psychological impact on everyone involved. And for the very vulnerable, it meant trying our very best to offer some continuity. 

With everything in flux, maintaining financial stability was of course a critical concern. Arts organisations faced an existential crisis, with many fearing they would not survive. Many artists went into freefall. The government response provided some relief: Northern Ireland received £33 million from the UK’s £1.57 billion Cultural Recovery Fund, which provided emergency grants to many. But it was understandably and regrettably slow. The Culture, Arts & Heritage Recovery Taskforce was established in May 2021 to oversee the sector’s reopening and long-term recovery. These interventions helped sustain many organisations through the worst of the crisis, but they were not a panacea, even if they had all been realised. And for a sector that was already struggling with decades of systemic underinvestment, artists bore the brunt of it. And so they left, or took any job to get by, or went to ground, unhappy, isolated and alone. 

For us in CAP, securing funding meant constant engagement with funders and policymakers, making the case for why community arts mattered even more in a pandemic. Some programmes had to be adapted or scaled back, while others found new life in digital formats. The efforts of the sector were so evident, but so was the vulnerability. 

What began as an emergency measure gradually became a long-term reality. Remote work, once seen as a temporary solution, became an embedded part of how arts organisations function. Even as restrictions eased, many aspects of remote working remained, changing the nature of collaboration and engagement. Even this year, after five years, some of the remote still remains. 

The shift had both positive and negative consequences. On the one hand, it has allowed for greater flexibility, reduced travel time, and enabled wider participation in meetings, workshops and events. On the other, it led to the loss of physical creative spaces, disrupted all the informal networking opportunities, all the chats and craic, and left some artists and many communities feeling utterly isolated, burnt out and vulnerable. The community arts sector, which thrives on in-person interaction, had to find new ways to build connections and foster collaboration.

Beyond the logistical and financial challenges, there was an even greater toll: the human cost. The pandemic took lives. Friends, colleagues, and community members were lost. Not necessarily to Covid 19 but those remote funerals became the only option for so many, stripping away the opportunity for collective mourning and leaving many with that grief unresolved. It also completely shifted school age kids towards even more screen time, on their own or at least, alone in an online connected labyrinth. Many still haven't bounced back from the isolation, the torturous home-schooling and lack of contact with peers and friends. For a great many, the effect of the pandemic will be felt for many years yet. 

The impact of these losses was profound, and the sense of isolation only made it harder to process. Our work in the arts, which is built on relationships and shared experiences, had to navigate not just professional challenges but that deep personal challenge. Even now, five years since it all started, we can all still sense the echoes of that grief and loss. Standing outside, apart.

Looking back, the decision to close down face to face work ahead of government mandates was the right one. It prioritised the health and safety of those we served, even if it came at a cost. It kept vulnerable staff members safe too. But no one knew how long it would all take and while many just lashed out at anything and everything, the careful and considerate took a beat and kept on working.

The pandemic may have indeed forced a re-evaluation of how arts organisations operate, highlighting the sheer immense vulnerability that we all share in times of crisis, but it also put us more in touch with those people and communities already challenged by health issues or those already struggling on the margins. The exacerbation of every deficit and difficulty was the pandemics long lasting price.

Where some aspects of the sector have recovered, others remain in flux. Face to face working is more prized than ever but while digital engagement has reshaped how many work, it has also become way more complicated and indeed, unsure. Spam, junk, scams, clones. They’re all more dangerously rampant than ever now . And AI seems to have only accelerated the level of level of everything - albeit washed in lazy computer generated platitudes and inaccuracies. Reaching out? Please, get a grip!

Remember building back fairer (never mind better, which was a forlorn hope, dashed hopelessly early). As the emergency funds are a thing of the past and everyone is fighting for funds from every possible avenue, the question now is not just how we rebuild, but how we ensure that the lessons of the past five years are not forgotten. How do we create a more sustainable, adaptable, and inclusive arts sector when there is little by way of new investment? How, when the arts have been summarily de-prioritised by our central government in the Assembly's PfG and replaced with top down short term missives about new priorities without any new monies, how do we survive, never mind grow? And how do we honour those that worked so hard and gave so much, at personal and often professional cost, along the way? Five years on, there are more questions than answers. The arts did matter…they should still.