Rewriting the Script: Setting the Stage
The first time I realized that fundraising mirrors theatre wasn’t in a donor meeting or a campaign kickoff—it was during my first Opening Night Gala of the Seattle International Film Festival.
Nearly 3,000 attendees filled McCaw Hall for the premiere of Your Sister’s Sister. Next door, the exhibition hall buzzed with anticipation. Twenty food vendors lined the perimeter, adjusting trays and warming stations as they prepared to serve the crowd. Live music pulsed from one corner of the room. Film screens flickered in another. The air carried a layered hum of conversation, clinking glasses, and hurried footsteps. Everywhere I turned, something demanded attention.
Behind the scenes, I was juggling volunteers, checking in with colleagues on the events team, and making sure donors and VIPs felt cared for. It was organized chaos. Every cue mattered. Every role was essential. There was no room for missed entrances or forgotten lines.
When the film ended and the crowd surged into the exhibition hall, I felt the same rush of adrenaline I once had standing in the wings before a performance.
That’s when it struck me: this is theatre.
Fundraising has its own script. Its own ensemble. Its own rehearsals and performances. There are stage managers—the development staff who keep everything moving. There are actors—board members, executives, and artists who step into the spotlight to convey mission and impact. And, of course, there’s an audience—our donors—without whom the curtain would never rise.
But in this production, the audience isn’t passive.
Donors aren’t simply watching from their seats. They are part of the story, helping make the performance possible. Their applause doesn’t just validate the show—their investment ensures it happens at all.
That Opening Night Gala clarified something for me: fundraising isn’t about perks or transactions. It isn’t about who gets the best seat in the house or whose name appears on the wall. It’s about connection. It’s about inviting people into a story that reflects our shared humanity and transforms communities.
Yet too often, arts philanthropy has been scripted in a way that excludes rather than includes. We have elevated privilege over purpose, perks over impact. Donors are treated like customers to be satisfied rather than partners in change.
That script no longer works—and if we’re honest, it never really did.
So this is a call for a rewrite.
A new script for arts philanthropy—one rooted not in transaction, but in equity, access, and belonging. One that understands fundraising not as begging or selling, but as an act of artistry and advocacy. One that invites every donor—whether they give $5 or $5 million—to take their rightful place in the story of the arts.
Because in the end, fundraising is theatre.
And in this playhouse, there should be no velvet ropes. No locked doors. No empty seats.
The stage is wide. The curtain is rising.
Everyone deserves to be part of the performance.
Subscribe
This essay is part of an ongoing series exploring how arts philanthropy can move beyond transaction and toward belonging. Subscribe on Substack or below to receive future essays as they are published.
