Each May, the RI State House Rotunda transforms into a living canvas of creativity, passion, and advocacy. Arts Day at the RI State House serves as a yearly, bold declaration that the arts DO in fact matter; that they build community, that they even save lives. And in 2025, amid a climate of financial uncertainty and cultural contention, this declaration rang especially clear. The 2025 celebration, held in the elegant State Room on May 8, brought together artists, educators, youth performers, lawmakers, and advocates under the soaring white dome of the State House. It felt like a moment to pause and take stock of what the creative community continues to offer a world that often asks it to justify its own existence. From the very first note played by the Newport String Project, a youth-centered chamber music initiative from Newport that exemplifies what community-based mentorship looks like, to the powerful performance by Classical High School senior and 2025 Poetry Out Loud state champion Emmanuel Obisanya, the atmosphere was one of celebration, but also of urgent purpose.
As Todd Trebour, Executive Director of the Rhode Island State Council on the Arts (RISCA) and master of ceremonies, reminded us throughout the afternoon: This is not just about art for art’s sake. It’s about memory. It’s about impact. It’s about survival. Trebour asked the audience to reflect: What is your first memory of being moved by art? When did it make you feel seen? Heard? Empowered? The room fell silent, and was then filled again with the warmth of shared experience. I found myself reflecting on my own path — how I once helped a younger student learn the saxophone, watched him surpass me, and felt a joy greater than any solo I could have played alone. It’s this power to connect, to teach, and to heal that makes the arts not merely worthwhile but essential to the human experience That message was underscored, perhaps most powerfully, by the keynote speaker, Harold Steward, Executive Director of the New England Foundation for the Arts (NEFA). Steward’s presence was a grounding force. It was not flashy, nor performative, but potent in its honesty. He spoke plainly about the fear and disillusionment many feel amid federal funding cuts and the tightening grip of bureaucratic austerity. Nonprofits, especially those led by and serving marginalized communities, are once again being told they are undeserving. Steward made it plain: “We’ve been here before.” And that cyclical erasure — that gaslighting of entire cultural communities — is not new for people of color, queer people, or anyone whose existence has long been treated as a liability instead of a legacy.
But he didn’t just leave us there in the pain. He offered a personal story, of his grandmother, a woman who instilled in him the resolve to keep going and lift his head high even when the world tried to bury it. “Did you do your best?” she would ask him. “Then that’s all that matters.” His words served as both a balm and a challenge: Stay aware, stay engaged, and above all — stay resilient. As someone who’s wrestled with bouts of low morale and the numbing routines of digital overconsumption, his message hit me hard. I’ve been the person lying in bed, scrolling through pseudo-life, ruminating over the increasingly bleak state of the world, losing sight of creativity. And yet, the arts — whether music, writing, or teaching — have always been the light pulling me back. Steward reminded us that the act of creation, especially in dark times, is a radical act of hope.
Don’t think that Arts Day was just politicians making speeches. The Rotunda was filled with tables manned by local organizations — the City of Providence’s Department of Art, Culture, Tourism; the Puerto Rican Institute for the Arts and Advocacy; East Providence Arts; CCRI’s Department of Art; and many more. This was the grassroots in action: schools and community groups showing off work, meeting potential collaborators, and reinforcing the idea that art lives everywhere, not just in elite galleries or curated festivals. The numbers back this up. RISCA’s own data shows that the creative sector contributes $2.37 billion to Rhode Island’s economy, representing 3.25% of the state’s GDP. Nearly 700,000 adults and over 150,000 youth participate in arts programming annually, with more than 10,000 artists engaged across the state. Not vanity statistics. Proof that investment in the arts yields real-world outcomes.
Programs like the Big Yellow School Bus, which funded 58 arts field trips this school year and reached over 5,000 students, are vital. They provide many children with their first exposure to live performance, to sculpture, to spoken word, and maybe even to their future careers. Harold Steward’s very presence on the podium affirmed this. His life and leadership — from founding the Fahari Arts Institute to managing the South Dallas Cultural Center to now leading NEFA — prove that the arts are one of the last strongholds of freedom and self-expression in an increasingly conformist and corporatized world. He challenged us not to take the arts for granted, especially now that even basic cultural funding is under threat. I couldn’t help but think about the young people I’ve worked with who are bright, capable, imaginative kids that have been taught to expect failure, who’ve stopped trying before even beginning. When society continuously tells them that their pursuits, particularly artistic ones, are frivolous, it robs them of their futures. But events like Arts Day push back against that narrative.
They show that the arts are worth fighting for. They’re not just some nostalgic indulgence in which you need to have something “serious” to fall back on, but a tool of survival, healing, and resistance. If you were in the room that afternoon, you left with something. Maybe it was the memory of a song that moved you to the point of goosebumps and tears. Maybe it was the resounding echo of Steward’s voice. Maybe it was just the reminder that you’re not alone. It’s not enough to attend one day and feel inspired. We need to support local artists, find creative ways to fund creative programs, advocate for arts education in schools, and challenge the systems that continuously cut creativity out of budgets and out of lives.
Because the truth is, we can’t just expect one elected official or administration to come along to pick us up and save our beloved pursuits. But as artists, educators, and community members, we can lift each other up in amazing ways. And that’s more than enough reason to keep going. After all, as Steward’s grandmother said, as long as you did your best, that’s all that matters. •
Photo: Cheikh Higgs
