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Wednesday August 13, 2025
The Arts Community Just Ripped Open a Conversation Portland Desperately Needs to Have
This week’s Insider is more of an open letter of gratitude to the arts community for coming out in force on Monday night to testify on the music venue moratorium. That meeting was unlike anything I’ve ever seen in City Hall. Council chambers were overflowing, two additional rooms were filled, and the energy was electric. The testimony was passionate, heartfelt, often hilarious…and everyone knew how to use a microphone. Seriously, most people who testify at public comment either won’t touch the mic or fumble with it like it might break. You all grabbed it, twisted it, found your level, and went for it.
You didn’t just “show up,” you showed up exactly when it mattered, and more than once. (Sorry again about the AV problems at the last meeting. In hindsight, we should’ve just handed the board over to you. Clearly, you know more than we do.)
All of this effort and energy and expertise made it impossible for this conversation to be swept under the rug. But I need to get real with you for a minute, because I think we’re at a tipping point and I want to speak plainly about that.
It’s tempting in moments like this to see two sides: the “No to Live Nation” side and the “Yes to the Arts” side. When a powerful corporate entity rolls into town, the threat is obvious, urgent, and it can galvanize opposition. That framing is useful for organizing, but it has its limits. A deeper truth at play here is that the fight for a thriving arts scene in Portland isn’t just about stopping something; it’s about building something better. We need to immediately pivot to that fight, and here’s why: Portland starves it’s artists.
For a city that prides itself so highly on the arts, we drastically underfund our creative community. We rely heavily on private philanthropy, but the public dollars we contribute are paltry compared to other cities. In a country that has been propagandized into seeing taxes as a “burden” rather than a powerful force for good, some think turning to private donations is a reasonable solution. I think it’s insulting.
National data from the NEA and Americans for the Arts reveals just how wide that gap it: Minneapolis invests roughly $8–$9 per resident, San Francisco more than $20, and Providence $6–$7. Here in Portland, we’re at only about $1–$2 per person. The state as a whole ranks 35th in the nation for public arts funding, spending just $0.79 per resident, compared to what Massachusetts spends: $4.46.
Non-profits can do a lot to fill gaps, but this chronic underinvestment from the public realm makes it harder for artists to thrive, limits the cultural vitality of our neighborhoods, and leaves us far behind peer cities that see the arts as essential to their economy and identity. If we say we value the arts, our budget needs to reflect that. And here’s the punchline: any community benefits agreement we negotiate with a large entertainment venue should include substantial public matching funds, so that we’re not just relying on the private market to uphold a public good. Without that, we risk building our cultural future on a swamp.
For me, that is reason enough to slow things down, take stock, and use this moment as a turning point for real investment in our creative community. That’s why I voted in favor of the moratorium and where I will be focusing my efforts from here.
Let’s Make Time for Dreaming
I recently spoke with someone who helped shape the original 1980-90s vision for the Arts District on Congress Street. Back then, it wasn’t just about banners and branding, it was about a thriving, city-supported ecosystem. A place where artists could afford to live and work. Where storefronts and public spaces buzzed with creativity. Where city government championed the arts as part of civic life.
Fast-forward to today, and much of that vision has faded or is outmoded. City-produced materials are generic, stripped of the artistic voice we claim to celebrate. Our civic events are often safe, predictable, and flavorless, the opposite of what art should be. And we’ve “art-washed” Congress Street, draping it in the language of culture while expecting artists to provide the vibrancy without giving them the resources, space, or stability to do it.
Meanwhile, Congress Street is facing vacancy, empty office buildings, reduced foot traffic, and concerns about safety and drug activity. These conditions could be the perfect catalyst for an arts-led transformation, but only if we move from branding to building. The new vacancy ordinance we’re working on could link artists directly to property owners, turning empty spaces into creative incubators. But it will only work if we give it your energy, your vision, and the resources it needs to succeed.
If we want a bold, thriving Arts District in Portland, we need to dream it first…and then organize relentlessly to make it happen.
Where We Go From Here
This moratorium fight isn’t just about one company, one building, or one vote. It’s about whether Portland is ready to treat the arts as a public good, just as essential to civic life as schools, parks, and roads are.
You’ve cracked the door open for that conversation. Now let’s blow it off the hinges. Let’s demand city budgets that match our rhetoric. Let’s integrate art into all municipal work. Let’s update the Arts District vision for 2025 and beyond. Let’s build structures where artists are decision-makers, not afterthoughts.
You’ve shown the power of organizing around a common cause. Now, let’s keep going. Let’s make “Yes to the Arts” more than a rallying cry. Let’s make it the way we govern.

ksykes@portlandmaine.gov 207-558-5764
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