Flip open the glossy pages of any well-heeled publication—doesn’t need to be local, any will do—and the society section smiles back, with perfect pearly whites and nary an orthodontic misstep in sight. These beautiful people have arrived to see and be seen, wrapped in lush fabric and jewels, noshing on (never “eating”) fine foods and drinks, and almost always in the service of a good cause. Galas and similar high-dollar events remain a cornerstone of nonprofit fundraising—a chance to get the word out about an organization’s important work in education, medicine, the arts, or another hole in the social contract requiring a patch.

These parties court big spenders who make generous donations, but also demand heavy upfront costs. For Houston’s smaller arts organizations, throwing an elegant evening soirée just isn’t a cost-effective option. This means taking advantage of their inherent creativity to plan a good time that won’t reduce their annual budget to a few dead moths and motes of dust.

Harrison Guy, founder and artistic director of Urban Souls Dance, says he attends various galas hosted by organizations he supports. Tickets to these events can range from $300 to $500, which can lock out potential donors. “For the work that I do, it just doesn’t make a lot of sense, because the people that would want to be in the room wouldn’t be able to afford a ticket,” says Guy, who also serves as the director of arts and culture at Fifth Ward Cultural Arts District.

Urban Souls’ fundraisers require minimal overhead, which increases margins and makes events more accessible to a broader range of economic circumstances. When the dance company operated as a for-profit organization, it funded performances by holding small donation drives before each show. “We never wanted to really be in debt to anyone,” Guy says. These events typically took the form of happy hours or small community gatherings, where the team would announce the amount needed to fund the evening’s entertainment. Attendees would collectively contribute what they could until the target number was met. This straightforward, no-frills model carried Urban Souls through into its recently bestowed nonprofit status, because it works.

Jessi Bowman, owner of FLATS Film Lab—Houston’s only community darkroom for analogue film—agrees with Guy’s philosophies. Having previously worked at FotoFest, the Houston Center for Photography, and Project Row Houses, Bowman witnessed firsthand how galas and auctions proved lucrative for the nonprofits themselves, but alienated supporters hailing from lower tax brackets. Many artists could not afford to attend the organizations’ high-dollar events, which fiscally undergirded their careers. They felt more like afterthoughts rather than active participants or valued team members. Because of this experience, Bowman’s fundraisers now welcome everyone who wants to contribute—from those unable to give at all to those who can afford $300 VIP tickets, and every price point in between. “We’re trying to move away from this kind of classist divide that has happened in those sort of [fundraising] scenarios,” she says.

On December 5, FLATS, Ice House Radio, and boutique clothier Wonderlikewander will partner up for a live fundraising event at Sanman Studios in North Downtown. Anyone can tune in to the livestream. Styled like an old-fashioned telethon, it will feature performers including comedians, an Elvis impersonator, and host Antoine Culbreath. There’s no financial barrier at this event: If folks have a small increment like $5 (or less), all they need to do is call in during the telethon. For those with a little more money to spare, there are tiered options at different price points, including live attendance at the event, a cocktail hour, and dinner. “We’re trying to make this super accessible but also allow for people to really see who they’re funding and the community that they’re putting their money into,” Bowman says.

Catastrophic Theatre also avoids galas, instead crafting smaller, creative experiences that keep overhead costs low. Like Guy, Tamarie Cooper, the theater’s producing artistic director, still attends and enjoys the sit-down, catered dinners and high-rolling environments thrown by other nonprofits she supports; they just aren’t feasible with Catastrophic’s budget. “Necessity is sort of the instigator of creativity,” Cooper says. “…Having a smaller budget to put toward fundraising events sort of makes you have to start thinking out of the box.”

It’s a challenge Cooper and her team relish. The theater has always offered pay-what-you-can tickets to performances, incorporating an “art for everyone” approach into its overarching ethos. Entry fees to the big parties are higher by design—the lowest ticket price for the theater’s 2025 camping-themed fundraiser was $75, but as Cooper points out, that’s still not exactly steep. “It’s including an evening of food, drinks, and entertainment,” she says. “You’re not going to find that for less money if you go out in town for that.”

Even for individuals where $75 is a make-or-break sum, the staffers at Catastrophic don’t want them to feel like they have to miss out on a good time because of money. Cooper ensures that all volunteers are given ample time to eat, drink, and be merry once their shifts end. She herself remembers being young and helping out at fundraisers, being ordered not to enjoy any of the entertainment and nibbling on bologna sandwiches in a tent away from the attendees. Breaking that cycle is important to Cooper, primarily since many of the volunteers also work for the theater.

There’s no FOMO like what Bowman also describes as an issue with events she was a part of in the past. Volunteer campers at Catastrophic’s big party this year still got to participate in earning merit badges, making art at the craft table, singing around the campfire, wearing costumes, and eating delicious Mexican food alongside paying attendees. The thickness of their pocketbooks didn’t impede their ability to uplift a nonprofit they love.  

Latin American arts organization MECA similarly throws one large annual event as its major fundraising push. It costs nothing to attend its annual Día de Muertos festival, and yet they still inspire generous donations to help keep their programming afloat.

According to MECA executive director Armando Silva, the nonprofit once held traditional galas, but abandoned the model in the early 2000s due to mounting expenses and a greater commitment to the local community. Along with the class disparities inherent in high-ticket-price events, Silva points out the racial condescension that is sometimes necessary to lure in wealthy philanthropists. “You could tell them, ‘I’m here with the poor little brown people, and they need help,’” he says. “And really, it sounds horrible and crass, but that really is what it was.”

MECA’s leadership wondered why the underserved Latin American neighborhoods they so ardently supported couldn’t also form the core of their donor base, away from the ivory tower supporters. Silva says Guy’s work at Urban Souls has been particularly inspiring when strategizing on how to reach a much more inclusive donor pool. A thoughtfully produced, culturally relevant event open to all feels far more aligned with MECA’s overarching mission than requesting money in exchange for a gala ticket. “It also opened up the door so that people who are really invested in our work can feel like they contribute at the best level they can,” he says.

Guy advises any new or aspiring local arts organizations to start small, even if they harbor big dreams. Success and sustainability rely on prioritizing cost-effective strategies rather than shooting straight for the high society columns. Fellow creatives, Houstonians, and folks who’ve had to tighten the purse strings lately still want to help, especially since the National Endowment for the Arts and other grant givers themselves suffer from budget woes these days. Nonprofits should let them. “Start with the people closest to [you]. Those are the people that will support you no matter what, and I think it’s okay to start with those people in mind and to grow things out,” he says. “I wouldn’t waste a lot of time trying to attract people that have no interest in what you do.”