Subsidized art must distinguish itself from the commercial sector through a fundamentally democratic approach, favoring shared experience over elitist creations, to better fulfill its public mission.
An anthropology of cultural sector practices seems essential to me. Should we differentiate the cultural production practices of the subsidized sector from those of the commercial sector?
In my view, this distinction is absolutely necessary—but not based on content (i.e., the type of work promoted, such as avant-garde in the subsidized field versus more mainstream approaches in the commercial sector). What must be distinguished is something entirely different: the ways of making art and the very conception of art supported by public funding. These practices, financed by citizens’ taxes, must by definition be democratic.
In the commercial domain, the objective is clear: achieve minimal profitability to ensure financial balance and, ideally, generate profits. But in the subsidized field, this logic is inapplicable. It would be ontologically wrong and ethically reprehensible. Yet, we too often see commercial logics—particularly in audience relations—transposed into the subsidized sector. To me, this is a democratic scandal, a distortion of the very nature of public funds and their objectives.
In subsidized culture, the goal is not financial balance but the optimal exercise of democracy through these means. One might think this overlaps with attendance—the more spectators, the more the democratic objective is achieved. Wrong: democracy is not measured by the quantity of participants but by the democratic impacts of participation methods, creation, mediation, etc. Evaluation must therefore focus on these impacts. Admittedly, this is complex, but it is necessary work that must continually be refined.
Take the example of live performance. In the private sector, a team (technicians, writers, actors, directors, etc.) produces a show whose ticket sales ensure profitability. The audience derives satisfaction from it: the system works.
But in the subsidized sector, if the venue is empty—which is common, as subsidized theater supports much creation but little dissemination—the deficit would be colossal. Some argue that the goal of cultural policies is to support creation, regardless of the deficit. Fine. But if we examine the texts closely, we see that this support aims for a diversity of creations disseminated in society, transforming social practices and contributing to democratic evolution. An expensive show seen by a handful of privileged individuals does not meet these objectives; the argument of “ivory-tower research” funded by public money thus holds no water.
How can we evolve forms of creation so they better fulfill their democratic role—without demagogy or a purely quantitative vision (which would then align with commercial logic)? With the same resources, we could rethink everything. Instead of an expensive, elitist spectacle, why not prioritize shared artistic experiences, inspired by John Dewey’s pragmatist philosophy (*Art as Experience*)?
Imagine: rather than a single show directed by one person, why not organize co-creation workshops with citizens? This wouldn’t necessarily mean amateurism but a professional practice that integrates the public more deeply. We could multiply formats—light shows, readings, meetings—enriching both artists and participants. Instead of funding one “grand spectacle” (with low attendance), we could offer a different experience each night, fostering learning and sharing: many “small spectacles” in place of one “grand spectacle.”
This approach, close to popular education (already experimented with in the 60s-70s by figures like André Malartre), would be more joyful, more alive, and far more democratic. It would legitimize demanding artistic practice without hierarchy between “overvalued” artists and “passive” spectators.
Some artists will reject this approach. Fine. But then, they should not use public funds for projects unrelated to its purposes. Let them turn to the commercial sector. As for the argument of “artistic exigence,” it remains valid—but why not create works just as ambitious, less costly, and more accessible, using digital tools?
The future of cultural policies lies in overhauling production methods and redefining art itself: no longer as a dominant object but as a shared practice—which is far more demanding, as it involves everyone.
Having supported teams in this transition, I’ve observed that far from harming artists, this approach fulfills them. Yes, it requires self-reflection, but this is beneficial. Fears of “diluting excellence” are unfounded: on the contrary, this path deepens the bond between art and society. Most professionals who try it find renewal, turning not to defending an outdated tradition but to inventing forms in tune with today’s world.
My multidisciplinary practices—spanning creation, cultural action, training, and support in a wide range of cultural, social, and educational contexts across France—provide me with a privileged, subjective, and in-depth observatory of the cultural sector in France.
This sector is weakened by its position, often deemed “non-essential” by many political leaders, by the competition from digital platforms in cultural practices, as well as by challenges and obstacles related to the difficulty of establishing interdisciplinary collaborations and the scarcity of evaluations, which are often poorly conducted and instrumentalized.
My observatory allows me to identify dynamics that work, as well as difficulties I observe. Here, I propose to share my analyses, methods, and suggestions, hoping they may prove useful. My goal is to contribute to a stronger cultural sector in the future, as I believe that defending a cultural sector funded by taxpayers’ money holds the potential for emancipation, the development of freedoms, democracy, and the capacity to act—in a way that is fundamentally different from what private actors produce.
This is possible if there is no hypocrisy, and in my view, it comes at the cost of a commitment to lucidity and self-questioning, a choice to deconstruct representations, and perhaps to challenge certain privileges and systems of domination.