# The Cost of Maintaining the Wrong Structures
From a Fragmented System Toward What We Can Build Together.
After a weekend retreat with a small group of mid-Atlantic Teaching Artists, I am rooted in the strength of our togetherness.
Two weeks ago, Governor Wes Moore formally recognized Teaching Artists of the Mid-Atlantic (TAMA) with a citation honoring its work to uplift the transformative power of the arts as delivered by Teaching Artists. That recognition matters. I repeatedly see the arts sector acknowledging the possibilities of this occupation while continuing to operate within structures that limit it. TAMA is a growing network of artists actively building a sustainable profession with real consequences. But those efforts are not amplified; instead, parallel systems are recreated, continuing to sideline Teaching Artist–led infrastructure.
When the field fails to recognize and hesitates to invest in organizations actually built by and for Teaching Artists, it does not simply overlook existing infrastructure but narrows the profession’s future and contradicts the very transformation it claims to support.
Teaching Artists are regularly gathered for workshops, convenings, leadership discussions, and planning sessions on the future of Teaching Artistry. The language is often thoughtful, and the intentions are often genuine. Yet the structural conditions of the work remain unchanged, as they have for decades. I’ve been part of these conversations before, and I’m not confused about the limits of participation in those channels.
A system can appear stable while relying on an unstable workforce. That is one of the central contradictions of Teaching Artistry.
Teaching Artists continue to sustain these channels, while the institutions that support them struggle or hesitate to fully recognize the scope of Teaching Artist labor.
Organizations often begin rooted in community responsiveness and then evolve toward expansion, visibility, and funding capture. In that shift, they accumulate programs, staff, rosters, and reach. Not every opportunity needs to be held by the largest institution or the one with the longest artist roster. Scale is not proof of alignment, and large rosters are not proof of success for artists.
Scale is not proof of alignment, and large rosters are not proof of success for artists.
At some point, strong leadership includes the ability to say, "This is enough." Let others build too. What our field needs is leadership willing to accept scaling back as a legitimate form of sustaining forward.
Because when power, funding, and legitimacy continue to concentrate in the same places, the field narrows. Fewer grassroots structures survive. Fewer Teaching Artist–led systems stabilize. And the profession becomes increasingly dependent on institutions that may speak the language of transformation while still protecting their own dominance.
The result is stagnation that is rooted in inequality. A system can appear stable while relying on an unstable workforce. That is one of the central contradictions of Teaching Artistry.
“Institutional stability is not the same as people’s sustainability.”
I’ve read 990s showing administrators earning $100K–$1.4M while artists struggle for crumbs. I’ve seen recent rate increases framed as “fair, competitive compensation.” But modest adjustments—especially during periods of rising costs—do not resolve structural instability. And because Teaching Artists remain fragmented, our workforce absorbs these conditions individually rather than addressing them collectively. That fragmentation protects concentrated power. It keeps negotiation isolated. It keeps people grateful for incremental change while the broader structure remains intact.
Visibility within institutions is often mistaken for alignment with the broader workforce. But most Teaching Artists do not work inside institutions. Much of the work is community-based, and many practitioners do not even identify as Teaching Artists. This reflects an issue of worker organization and mobilization, and results in a widening gap between the language of the field and the realities of labor.
This contradiction becomes sharper when institutions claim to speak in the language of equity or transformation while continuing to undervalue the labor required to sustain that work. Teaching Artists are asked to facilitate transformation everywhere except within the systems that govern their own profession.
Recently, TAMA worked with a web developer to build a fair pay-rate builder for Teaching Artists. When ownership of the code was discussed, it was understood that an additional cost was required to retain it. The tool itself is a specialized infrastructure of coding. It is built with the expertise of professional Teaching Artists. It has real value for the field. Similarly, Teaching Artists should understand their labor in those same terms: infrastructure, intellectual property, and professional expertise.
Teaching Artistry must move beyond the framing of an “emerging workforce” and ask deeper questions about professional self-determination of our occupation. Let me be clear: this work is about workers organizing around shared interests, shared infrastructure, and shared power. The resources and tools we develop as an occupation must extend into how the system classifies us: how the Department of Labor codes us, how the government structures funding and tax codes, and how procurement flows through the Department of Commerce.
With that in mind, I proudly accept Governor Moore’s recognition of TAMA’s work. The future of Teaching Artistry depends on organizations like TAMA. Because no profession can sustain itself in the long term while the workforce remains structurally fragmented. Because institutional stability is not the same as people’s sustainability.
The question is not whether Teaching Artists can mobilize as a workforce. The question is what structures continue to keep Teaching Artists from being visible, supported, and sustained.
“Fragmentation protects concentrated power.”