There are no patrons. There are only artists. Have you noticed this Portland phenomenon? Someone here at the Dojo mentioned this to me and now it seems obvious.

We’ll have an event and I look up to survey a sea of writers rather than readers. Of course, if we have a sea that’s saying something. Elsewhere in town, as with every night, there are other literary-minded events to attend. There are other readings, galleries, shows, workshops, and fundraisers.

We are artists. We are Portlanders. We are legion. But where have all the patrons gone?

It’s interesting to consider arts like ballet and opera that enjoy financial support but that have trouble filling the stands. Do we want to see faces in the seats, or in our wallet on green pieces of paper?

The problem with a patron-less Portland is that all these artists need to survive where financial support is limited. So we show up for each other and clap and that feels pretty good, though chatting over our unsold books isn’t going to help with the mounting stack of overdue bills. It begs the question: can one be a financially fit artist who only relies on their Oregon neighbors for support?

And then, poof—it must be 10PM, when all the writers turn into pumpkins or something.