The Collapse of the Last Line of Defense

Public support was once the final bastion of art. It served as the only mechanism through which art could defend itself from the logic of the market—a space where the essence of artistic creation could be protected from the accelerating demands of capital.

Yet in today’s South Korea, public arts support no longer fulfills this role. Year after year, nearly identical support programs, review processes, and bureaucratic briefings—anchored in superficial performance indicators—have gradually ossified into a system that prioritizes administrative convenience over artistic vitality. The structure has shifted from improving creative environments and preserving artistic integrity to proving compliance and producing measurable events.

Support exists, but rarely reaches its intended recipients. The system exists, but no longer functions. It claims to serve artists but operates increasingly at odds with their lived realities. Experimental work gives way to “institutionally compatible” work, and creation itself becomes a calculated maneuver.
This is not merely a matter of bureaucratic inefficiency or flawed design. It is a symptom of a deeper structural crisis—one that threatens the authenticity of creation and the diversity of the ecosystem. We are now at a critical juncture, one that demands we move beyond the question of “what and how to fund” and instead ask, “why, for whom, and in what way should we stand together?”


 
A Distorted Ecosystem Shaped by Institutionalization

1. The Exam-Driven Logic of Grant Systems: Only the ‘Well-Informed’ Pass

Public funding in Korea often operates like a standardized test. Artists are judged based on uniform applications, rushed deadlines, and bureaucratic metrics. In this process, the internal trajectory of the artist’s work—their attitude, vision, and long-term development—becomes secondary. What matters more is fluency in administrative language and familiarity with the system.

Administrative dexterity and information access, rather than artistic depth, become decisive variables. Those immersed in their studio practice find themselves outpaced by “strategic applicants” adept at navigating funding structures.

This mirrors Korea’s college entrance culture, where a student’s life trajectory hinges on a single exam. Similarly, an artist’s survival is often determined not by their art, but by a well-crafted grant proposal and tidy portfolio. The system does not uncover potential; it selects for those already conditioned to fit within its narrow confines—at the cost of experimentation, diversity, and non-quantifiable forms of artistic integrity.



2. The Nomadic Artist: When Funding Becomes the Goal

An even more alarming development is the transformation of funding from a foundation to a goal in itself. Artists bounce from one residency to another, one grant cycle to the next, becoming nomads in a system that encourages constant movement but no rootedness.

Out of necessity, they adapt their work to fit the parameters of each grant—formatting their creative process to match institutional expectations. This leads to repetition of project-based outputs designed to satisfy short-term institutional mandates, not long-term artistic growth.

The result? A gradual erasure of the very essence of art: uncertainty, experimentation, and purposelessness. Art becomes defined not by inquiry or expression, but by its ability to satisfy forms and metrics.



3. Evaluation Without Critique, Operation Without Stewardship

Within the bureaucracies of public institutions lies a further problem: the absence of true critical engagement. Evaluation processes are largely perfunctory, with little time or room for thoughtful reflection on content.

Assessors, constrained by schedules and templates, rely on quantitative indicators—media coverage, audience numbers, sales—while overlooking the philosophical depth, process, and context of an artist’s work. Post-support tracking and feedback mechanisms are often nonexistent or purely symbolic.

Thus, artists and their work become disposable commodities, valued only in terms of administrative metrics. Art’s presence in public support is reduced to something shallow, fleeting, and transactional.


Reviving Publicness Is Reviving the Artistic Ecosystem
The original intent of public funding was to enable non-commercial, experimental, and sustained artistic practices. Yet today’s system mimics capitalism’s logic of competition and exclusion rather than resisting it.

True publicness begins not with systems but with attitudes—seeing artists not as recipients or contractors, but as collaborators. To rebuild this ethos, the following shifts are essential:


- Flexible Evaluation Standards:

Move beyond short-term deliverables and numeric outcomes. We must create evaluative space that honors the unique contexts and long-term visions embedded in each practice. While public programs require objectivity, that should not come at the cost of depth. Emphasizing process, not just product, and tailoring assessment to each field’s specific nature can expand inclusivity.


- Diverse and Participatory Program Design:

Currently, most support structures are administratively designed, with little input from those working in the field. Involving artists, critics, and independent curators from the outset ensures relevance and reduces the gap between institutional frameworks and real-world practices.


- Systematic Post-Support Feedback:

Funding must not end at selection. A system that observes, documents, and reflects on artistic progress after funding can offer critical insights for future programs. This long-term view affirms that growth is not instantaneous—and cannot be reduced to statistics.


- Collaborative Ecosystems Between Artists and Institutions:

We must transcend the binary of selection and oversight. If institutions continue to engage with artists even after funding ends—by offering platforms for continued dialogue or collaboration—then support becomes more than a transaction. It becomes a foundation.


 
So, Who Is Public Arts Funding Really For?

Support is not a gift—it is a social contract to sustain a shared cultural ecosystem. Art must be seen not as a subject to be evaluated and controlled, but as a form of mutual inquiry and care.

Public funding should reflect a reciprocal process—between creators, administrators, critics, and citizens—centered on nurturing art’s inherent values. It must offer not just financial resources, but structural room for breath, reflection, and risk.

Support is not charity. Administration is not management. Art is not a hurdle.

We must ask not “who to give to and what to fund,” but “how do we build something together?” Only then can public support return to what it was meant to be: a ground on which genuine creation can begin again.

Jay Jongho Kim graduated from the Department of Art Theory at Hongik University and earned his master's degree in Art Planning from the same university. From 1996 to 2006, he worked as a curator at Gallery Seomi, planning director at CAIS Gallery, head of the curatorial research team at Art Center Nabi, director at Gallery Hyundai, and curator at Gana New York. From 2008 to 2017, he served as the executive director of Doosan Gallery Seoul & New York and Doosan Residency New York, introducing Korean contemporary artists to the local scene in New York. After returning to Korea in 2017, he worked as an art consultant, conducting art education, collection consulting, and various art projects. In 2021, he founded A Project Company and is currently running the platforms K-ARTNOW.COM and K-ARTIST.COM, which aim to promote Korean contemporary art on the global stage.