Hi friends, Because you all get the uncut verison...this is what being the founder of a nonprofit actually looks like. I'll use one Fourth of July weekend as an example. Every plate I'm about to describe is still spinning today. While other people planned cookouts, I spent the holiday driving between restaurants in a Baltimore neighborhood, asking whether someone could sponsor a community event. I stood in lines, handed out notecards, introduced myself, heard "no," and left information behind hoping it would reach the right person. Then I went home and drafted more emails while I ate a hotdog I made on the stove. The next morning, I attend a church outside my own denomination, because showing up matters. I wanted the neighborhood to know I was committed, that I was not asking people to trust an organization whose founder was unwilling to be present. That weekend I worked Friday, Saturday and Sunday. I stopped at 2:24 Monday morning because I needed a few hours of sleep before my full-time job. Fifteen emails were scheduled to leave my inbox at 8:00 a.m. and on Monday at noon, I found out the community no longer wanted to proceed with this project. 30 hours of my life every week since November, gone. My 2003 Toyota Avalon has had a missing driver-side mirror. I should have prioritized the mechanic over the holiday. Instead, I prioritized that neighborhood, because it was one of the few stretches of unscheduled time I had. That decision says more about this season of Nosreme than almost anything else. People see the public-facing version of a nonprofit: the completed artwork, the community event, the grant announcement, the smiling photograph. They do not see the plates spinning behind it. I am, all at once, the fundraiser, program director, partnership manager, social media manager, event planner, proofreader (and I don't do a great job at that job), and administrative support. I am tracking grants, coordinating with artists, reviewing website updates, checking our bookkeeping, and planning the Rotterdam portion of our exchange. I am also scouring the internet for events in the arts and construction industry because I need to network everywhere while building visibility through LinkedIn, follow-ups, panels, and an endless number of meetings squeezed into the noon-to-1:00 p.m. I am pouring my time, energy, and personal salary into Nosreme while trying not to let anyone see how thinly stretched I am. I sleep five hours a night—even though my acupuncturist told me to protect my "golden box." I'm scared if I stop spinning even one plate, people will realize how much of this organization is still just me. But am also the person holding the vision, that is the part that keeps me going. When I have a full day to work on Nosreme, I feel pure joy. When I speak with artists about opportunities they’ve never been offered before, I feel energized. I can see how my background as an architect, organizer, and Baltimorean is finally connecting in one place. Nosreme is becoming a way to bring artists into projects that historically excluded them, showing how public art can help Baltimore meet larger goals around development, workforce, and neighborhood identity. Building this vision also means learning to perform a delicate dance for funders. I’m not going to lie: that part is exhausting. (Sometimes you just want to say, “Give us the money already!”) But every time someone experiences one of our completed projects, the response reminds me why I keep going. I don't think founders should sacrifice their health, their weekends or their driver-side mirrors. That is not sustainable, and the grind should not be romanticized. A founder can be deeply committed and still need infrastructure. A strong vision still requires administrative support, communications capacity, financial systems, and people who can help carry it. Those are not distractions from the mission. They are what allow the mission to survive. I don't have all of that infrastructure yet. What I have is an enormous number of plates I refuse to let fall. How You Can Help If you’ve read this far, thank you for supporting Nosreme—whether you’ve been here since 2022 or just started following our work today. If you have a bit of bandwidth to take a plate off my hands, here is how you can volunteer this month: - Content & Social Media: Brainstorm post ideas for LinkedIn or come out to help film quick street interviews for Instagram.
- Spread the Word: Forward this email to one person in Baltimore who believes in the power of public art.
Ready to jump in? Reply directly to this email and let me know how you'd like to help! - Ariana Parrish, Founder & Executive Director of Nosreme Baltimore | 
