Luis Tiliano spent weeks looking forward to a Twenty One Pilots concert.
He paid about $250 for a ticket and $170 on his outfit of a T-shirt, thrifted floral pants and special edition Air Jordan 13 sneakers. But he isn’t interested in dropping $35 at the Winspear Opera House, the Dallas Symphony Orchestra or the Dallas Museum of Art.
“I personally don't like the idea of investing or putting my money towards those,” Tiliano said. “When I think of those [art institutions], I'll be honest, I think of the status quo white man setting the tone for it kind of like in the corporate world like the jacket, the button up, the tie.”
The 22-year-old is part of the elusive generation that local nonprofit museums, theaters and performance venues have been trying to attract for years – a generation that for myriad reasons is less likely to support the arts through patronage, memberships or donations.
Organizations have good reason to be concerned. Research from SMU DataArts shows that in 2024 art organizations nationwide received about 59% of their revenue from contributions. But younger generations are giving less to the arts than their predecessors.
It’s a pattern that Jon Bergdoll, associate director of data partnerships at Indiana University’s Lilly Family School of Philanthropy, has noticed.
Not only has overall giving in the U.S. declined since the Great Recession of 2008, each successive generation is giving at a lower rate. From 2003 to 2019, giving rates dropped 42% among early adults ages 22 to 37, according to the center’s Next Generation of Philanthropy report published earlier this year.
“With younger households, giving rates are much lower in general as are giving amounts typically,” he said.
If younger donors continue to give at lower rates, the future of many arts institutions could be strained. In North Texas, the Dallas Museum of Art receives about 62% of its revenue from contributions and the Nasher Sculpture Center receives about 88% of its revenue from contributions, according to their most recent tax records.
Dallas Children’s Theater knows what’s at stake. The organization announced layoffs in June with more on the horizon and the canceling of shows and classes. The theater’s former Executive Director Samantha Turner told Arts Access in a June interview “enormous financial challenges” were the reason for the changes.
“We need to expand who’s supporting us. We've had an incredible foundation of donors who have made the 40 years of us possible, but it's the next 40 years that we need to fund and there are new donors that need to come join us in that effort,” she said.
In early September, DCT announced Michael Meadows as its new interim executive director. He said he is working to safeguard the organization’s financial future.
“My focus is … to take a deep strategic look at our business model and fundraising efforts to build a more financially stable and sustainable future for Dallas Children's Theater,” he said.
So, why are Gen Zers and Millennials giving less? Members of those generations, experts and local arts advocates say these groups have different means and motivations behind their giving than their predecessors. These shifts show Gen Zers and Millennials view the arts in a fundamentally different way, which means arts groups will have to catch up or be left behind.
‘Bills, Bills, Bills’
During the work day, Tiliano can be found calling customers in Bank of America’s back office.
With his annual salary of about $55,000, like many of his peers, he simply has less discretionary money to give to the arts.
“I feel like it's even a struggle to still put money towards buying art and things like that. I feel like that is a hindrance or a block a lot of times just if I want something specifically or I see this art is expensive, it really just deters me from getting it or even just supporting the artist just because of the price range,” he said.
Research published by the University of Chicago Press found the average Millennial has 30% less wealth at the age of 35 than Baby Boomers did. And while Gen Zers are accumulating wealth at greater rates than their parents at the same age, many are facing high costs of living, student loan debt and a housing affordability crisis.
The problem of securing a younger donor base to fund the future of the arts has long been on the minds of arts leaders and foundation heads such as Katie Robbins, president and CEO of the Hoblitzelle Foundation. Over decades of giving, the foundation has given away more than $27 million to North Texas arts and culture groups.
Robbins said often the challenge is that “the arts in particular does get categorized as sort of a nice to have, not a need.” Though she believes the arts are vital to having a vibrant community, she said “it's harder and harder to kind of tell that story.”
Even the wealthiest young donors aren’t as interested in giving to the arts. A Bank of America study of affluent Americans with at least $3 million in investable assets shows 22% of older donors give to the arts compared to 12% of younger donors.
Bergdoll said Gen Z and Millennials are more focused on basic needs.
The arts ranks second to last among the top 10 causes Gen Z and Millennials have given to, according to the Next Generation report.
“What younger donors tend to be a little bit more inclined to do is ‘I care about this cause, maybe it's homelessness. I'm going to give to whatever charities I view in this moment as being the best way to deal with this problem,’ ” he said.
And while this issue-based focus can be helpful for certain nonprofits, Bergdoll said it may not be ideal for the arts.
“I could see where it could be a challenge for arts because the arts are very organization-based for the most part more so than cause or issue based.”
It also appears that Gen Z and Millennials want to be more involved in how organizations are using their money.
Darryl Ratcliff, an artist and cultural organizer in North Texas, said gone are the days when donors would hand an arts group a blank check and walk away. These days, they want to be involved – and not just in a perfunctory way. They want to know where their money is going and have input on what is done with it.
“There's definitely moments I've observed where folks in the younger branch of the larger organization feel like they aren't really being truly heard from the overall organization leadership,” he said.
In May, he launched his own small $1,000 monthly grant for artists in Dallas called Creative Seeds. The fund is almost entirely funded by Gen Z and Millennial donors.
He launched the fund by tapping into the vast network he’s built and posting about the grant program on his Instagram stories. Now, it gives away about $1,000 each month to a different North Texas artist.
He said it’s important to foster relationships between donors and artists directly.
“Folks want to know not just your organization, they do want to know the creatives as well. So I think organizations that can clearly show how they're not just presenting art, but also directly supporting artists kind of have a leg up.”
‘The Times They Are a-Changin’
Frisco resident Avon Nguyen, 28, both works at IBM and is an influencer who posts food and lifestyle videos on TikTok and Instagram.
Unlike some of her peers, she’s a frequent museumgoer and has memberships that cost about $500 a year to the Dallas Museum of Art, the Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth and the Kimbell Art Museum. Still, right now she doesn’t give an unrestricted donation on a regular basis to these types of organizations.
“I’m definitely no billionaire so I can’t hand over a blank check currently in my financial status,” she said.
While she does donate about 8% of her salary each year, it doesn’t go toward the arts. She directs her donations to support animal welfare, domestic violence victims and foster children.
“Those are all really important for us. So it automatically gets taken out of my pay,” she said.
With her “fun money,” she buys clothes like trendy moonboots and got a Jesse McCartney meet-and-greet ticket for about $500. And she enjoys filling her home with contemporary art pieces like giant sculptures of a balloon dog and crayon. Her most expensive purchase is a 5-foot-tall auctioned KAWS sculpture that cost about $16,000.
“I think a really big thing about the younger generation is being your own person, being an individual,” she said.
Like Nguyen, younger art collectors are looking for “nontraditional” art like sneakers, comic books and Birkin bags, the types of conversation pieces they can talk about with friends and online.
Meanwhile, younger Gen Zers like Tiliano care about building community through art like embroidery and thrifting, which he can do with friends. As a member of Texas Latino Pride and the Association of Latino Professionals for America, he said it’s important that he spends his money on art that reflects his identity and values.
He said he’s more inclined to buy from a smaller nonprofit that’s run by a POC entrepreneur than a large art institution that feels “prestigious.”
“It is very like, ‘Oh, I went to this, I was able to do this, I have this painting’ kind of vibe,” he said. “So I like the idea that the arts are shifting towards being more personable, more invested in our community and seeing how we together become the art.”
Historically, art institutions have been exclusive spaces. The arts often skews toward a largely white and older audience, according to the Survey of Public Participation in the Arts.
It’s a persisting challenge that art institutions have struggled to navigate and one they will quickly have to figure out given that Gen Z is the most racially and ethnically diverse generation yet.
Those identity issues can have a trickle-down effect to how these spaces feel for visitors who often see the arts as elitist or exclusive.
For some Gen Zers, going to the museum can even be perceived as “cringe.” Dallas high schooler Sophia Joson, 17, said that perception alone is enough to deter some of her peers from going.
She thinks about the viral stereotype of the “performative male,” a guy who goes to an art museum drinking matcha while listening to indie music because of how he wants to be perceived.
“People might not want to engage in experiencing the arts in fear of being labeled like that because it is cringey to have a name like, ‘Oh, you're so performative,’ ” she said. “I would not want to be called performative, even if I genuinely enjoy it.”
And she does genuinely enjoy the arts.
Joson is a rising senior at Dallas ISD’s School for the Talented and Gifted who plays the violin and is a theater lover.
“When I was younger, my mom would take me with her when she would go watch musicals,” she said. “I memorize all the soundtracks and so I'm just like a big fan.”
Joson remembers falling in love with the shimmering lights of The Little Mermaid as a little girl. While she loves the immersive experience of theater, it’s especially meaningful to her as a point of connection with her mom, who first fostered her love for the art form.
However, Joson’s mom pays for the tickets to attend and she’s uncertain about whether she’ll want to pay hundreds of dollars for her own theater tickets in the future.
Who’s currently funding the arts?
The McDermott Foundation. The Meadows Foundation. The Bass family. The Hoblitzelle Foundation.
All have had a sizable role in uplifting the arts in North Texas. They also reflect the data showing most major donors to the arts are wealthy, older and white.
As these families prepare to pass on millions of dollars in wealth, their Gen Z and Millennial successors will determine who and what is deserving of support. Currently, the data from the Next Generation of Philanthropy study shows the arts are not a top priority compared to older generations.
Shafkat Anowar/The Dallas Morning NewsArt philanthropist Grace Cook reacts as she checks out some art works at Galleri Urbane during the opening reception for Jessica Drenk’s Elemental Form and Lorena Lohr’s Desert Nudes, as a part of her evening art events on, Saturday, Sept. 6, 2025 in Dallas.
Grace Cook, 37, is one of the youngest members of the McDermott family who’s taken on the arts as a kind of personal mission.
These days, she spends much of her time serving as a board member, raising money, chairing galas and attending concerts, exhibitions, plays and opening nights across North Texas. Her influence on the arts has reached most corners from The Arts Community Alliance to The Cedars Union. Arts Access has received grant funding from the McDermott Foundation.
The young philanthropist is adamant that younger generations aren’t disengaged, but that perhaps they haven’t been invited into the arts in ways that feel relevant to them.
“It’s not that they don’t care about the arts. It’s that the opportunities to connect often don’t reflect how they already experience creativity,” she said.
That’s why Cook said organizations need to be focused on forming long-term relationships with donors because “too often, the ask comes before the relationship.”
“Without that connection, support doesn’t feel personal. It feels transactional. If arts institutions want long-term support, they have to start with long-term relationships.”
Large institutions like the Dallas Museum of Art are trying to cultivate those relationships with young donors through groups like the DMA Junior Associates. Laura K. Wise, 38, the co-chair of Junior Associates, said she aims to build a community, not just an affinity group.
One way they do that is by facilitating immersive experiences in the community, like an event in late July when they hosted a tour of a Fort Worth building that is being transformed from a former Ku Klux Klan building into a community center.
“So people can feel like, ‘Hey, I made a friend here and we're now going to this art gallery here as friends.’ You’re really trying to push that community element, but also that money is going to support the museum, which is why it's really important for us to continue to grow our membership.”
Smaller organizations like Cara Mía Theatre say they’ve long focused on community engagement, but turning that support into dollars has been challenging.
David Lozano, executive artistic director at Cara Mía, said the theatre has always aimed to foster a genuine sense of community that isn’t transactional. And for many in the community, the organization has become known for its inclusive programming that reflects the experiences of Latino communities and speaks to complicated issues such as the challenges DACA recipients face.
“Our goals are to be able to create that sense of belonging where people feel connected to others in their immediate community,” he said. “It's not a question of just buying a ticket and then going to the show and leaving.”
In the past, they’ve done that by hosting post-show discussions and symposiums. Each year, they also host the annual Latinidades Festival, which involves a mix of theater shows, performances, food and dance.
And while groups like Cara Mía have really become known for their sense of community, it’s been difficult to bridge the gap between that connection and cultivating a base of young donors who fund their work.
Around 40% to 50% of the theatre’s funding comes from private donations and foundations. And the organization’s major donors who give over $10,000 are in their mid-to-late careers or retired.
“I think that's the million dollar question, is how do we operationalize [the building of community]?” he said.
Lozano believes the answer has to be about collective action rather than having each arts organization fend for themselves.
“If we want to see that company sustain itself or even grow and operationalize even more, they're going to need the support of the village that is the people of Dallas, the city government, the foundations and private donors,” he said.
For now, Lozano said North Texas arts leaders are often just focused on doing the next right thing, especially now as they’re focused on increasing ticket sales which have been in decline and the potential impact of losing city funding.
“We're trying to just keep doing our work right now with the volatility of things going on,” he said.
Still, he says “we’re going to need a bigger vision.”
It’s something Gen Zers like Nguyen, who want to see art thrive, can already feel.
“This is so morbid, but people are gonna die soon,” she said. “And if younger people don't have an interest in art, I fear … [museums and theaters] will become obsolete.”
Arts Access is an arts journalism collaboration powered by The Dallas Morning News and KERA.
This community-funded journalism initiative is funded by the Better Together Fund, Carol & Don Glendenning, City of Dallas OAC, The University of Texas at Dallas, Communities Foundation of Texas, The Dallas Foundation, Eugene McDermott Foundation, James & Gayle Halperin Foundation, Jennifer & Peter Altabef and The Meadows Foundation. The News and KERA retain full editorial control of Arts Access’ journalism.
