We run programs to make a difference. To open doors, change trajectories, celebrate excellence. But here’s the uncomfortable question we rarely ask ourselves: How do we know if we’re actually doing any of that?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not in a vague, feel-good way. But really knowing. Being able to point to specific people and say “this program changed things for them.” Understanding which parts of what we do create real impact, and which parts are just… nice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Most of us can’t. We run our programs, announce our winners, share the press release, and move on to next year. Meanwhile, someone who won three years ago might have landed their first commercial client because of the credibility we gave them. Or maybe they’re still struggling and our award made zero difference.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We don’t know, and that should bother us (it certainly bothers me since we’ve failed to do so with our past programs!)<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You decide to start measuring impact. You add questions to your application form. Create follow-up surveys. Build tracking systems.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then something weird happens.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The moment you start measuring “career advancement,” every application suddenly claims they’re on the verge of a breakthrough. Start tracking “commercial success” and watch artistic risk-taking disappear overnight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A competition which starts heavily promoting alumni success stories \u2013 gallery representation, international residencies, the works, might unexpectedly lose 30% of their entries next year scaring away emerging artists who thought “if that’s the standard, I’m not ready.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The very act of measuring success can make programs less accessible (but increase the level of quality entries) – it’s a very delicate balance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“We think we’re making a difference” isn’t a strategy. We tend to default to thinking this way when we’re too busy, or we’re intimidated by the process of doing so.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Looking under the bonnet may be scary but it shows us what works and what doesn’t. It will give you insights on how to trim things that don’t work for your participants and increase resources on the work that makes a real difference in their lives.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Plus – stories expire. You can’t depend on that one winner from 2019 anymore. Funders want proven patterns, not anecdotes. They want to know this year’s impact and last year’s and the year before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Impact is not built of hope, it comes to life through carefully planned action.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Traditional impact reports are far too generic in their outlook:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
What does that even mean? Career advancement could be anything from “got an intern position” to “now running the Tate Modern.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Compare that to: “A photographer was working part-time in retail while building their practice. Six months after winning our award, they landed their first commercial commission. The client referred directly to the award when they approached them. They’re now fully self-employed and just hired an assistant.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then add: “This photographer is one of 73% who report similar career shifts.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Story bring the statistic to life. Statistic proves the story isn’t cherry-picked. You need both to complement each other or you are missing a critical piece of your jigsaw puzzle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
With more competition for the same funding it’s now more vital than ever to stand out for grants and sponsorships. Everyone’s claiming impact. But when you can say “73% of our participants increase their creative income within 12 months, here’s how” and back it up with real stories? That’s when funders lean in. That’s when sponsors renew for another year.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Numbers get you attention, stories get you the check.<\/p>\n\n\n\n