15 Years & $1M In Funding Later, Danielle Caruana Shares How The Seed Fund Started

Fifteen years ago in an airless and depressing hotel room, in an entirely forgettable town in the middle of America, after an achingly unsatisfying day off, our one-year-old daughter Banjo, delirious on sugar and jetlag, John [Butler] and I had a crackpot idea, or maybe a moment of divine inspiration. We had been toying with the concept of an independent grant fund for artists, run by artists. We wanted to reinvest in our culture and our people, and we wanted to create a portal for others to do the same. Kind of like a circle of life, kind of like Lion King, but mostly not. Here in this suffocating room, we had our first glimpse of how this idea, which had been floating between us for some time, might actually come into reality.

We hadn’t been able to work out how to do it without going through existing government grant channels, yet we were allergic to the idea of getting tied up in bureaucracy or agendas that we didn’t feel aligned to. As Banjo crawled around on that over-patterned orange and brown synthetic carpet, we decided that we would just create a fund ourselves, from scratch: we would run the whole thing, and we would decide what categories we would fund and how the process would run. Within five minutes we both went from laying depleted and fatigued on vacuous bedspreads, to both sitting upright, our impassioned hands gesturing wildly.

I jumped from the bed and pulled out my international calling card, and after dialling the number and re-inputting the 23-digit pin three times, I immediately called two people – first, Jacqui Geia, a respected and rebellious arts worker, manager, grant writer and connector who I had worked with on a couple of projects; second, Carlo Santone, a musician and manager in Blue King Brown. I knew these two would get it, a guerrilla grant fund, run by the arts community, funded by the arts community, for the arts community. They were on board by the two-minute mark of the conversation, which was fortunate because those calling cards were a total rort!

Within a month Carlo, John, Jacqui and I were all sitting under a huge tree in Jacqui’s backyard in Williamstown. By the end of that meeting we had set our intention to embolden and empower our community of musicians and artists to be connected to each other and supported by each other.

Look, I’m going to strip the romantic filter here for a second; we had no fucking idea what we were doing. I can’t even remember how we promoted that the fund even existed. I mean we were (and still are) total small fries in comparison to the sums that the government bodies have to dish out. By closing date, when Jacqui turned up at our makeshift ‘office’ in a warehouse in Collingwood, with 450 applications (all in large envelopes complete with photos and CDs and full old-school press kits), we got a serious dose of, “Holy shit, this is real!” We immediately engaged someone to manage the fund: enter Stacia Goninon stage left, who swung into action creating workable systems to keep this thing afloat!

In that first year we funded such an broad and eclectic mix of projects, from supporting Afghan refugee Adam Janali in putting on a solo exhibition in Perth, to The Suburban Sistaz: a touring troupe of female hip hop artists delivering workshops for at-risk women. We paid for violin lessons and drum kits, and we even contributed to Dan Sultan’s post production and marketing expenses on his debut album Homemade Biscuits, among much more. Our categories were Multicultural Art, which was exclusively available to artists who were in Australia on a Temporary Protection Visa; Workshop And Professional Development, for artists wanting to work with a mentor or present a workshop series to mentor other artists; Social Activism Through The Arts, a fund for artists to install art which would be experienced free to the public which held a social message; Music Marketing; and Indigenous Music. We asked ourselves what areas of our arts community we felt passionate about and set up a category to suit it!

It was a pretty wild ride, and a very steep learning curve. While meeting to go through the first round of acquittals and decide which categories we would announce for our second round, we realised we wanted to do something a little deeper, more than just money – we wanted to bring our network of people together and create our own mini mentorship program, a workshop of sorts. Another spark was lit and in about as much time as it once took to dial someone overseas using an international calling card, the seed for The Management Workshop was sown, and with it an old saying that we felt fit our agenda: give a person a fish and they eat for a day, teach them how to fish, they eat forever. We no longer wanted to hand out meals, morsels, stopgaps of funding – we wanted to create a space for knowledge sharing and connection, we wanted artists to become self-sustained of their own making, knowing they are buoyed by their peers.

In a flurry of calls and excited conversations (more wild hand gesturing) with just about everyone we had ever worked with in the music industry, we had three days worth of panellists signed up and we were off and racing. Our first workshop was in 2006, for three full days, two months after the birth of my second child (madness). Twenty-five participants, around 20 panellists; over nine hours a day of facilitated conversations. Again we were bowled over by what we hadn’t planned for. We hadn’t factored for the connections and relationships that would be made by the 25 participants, all emerging managers and self-managed artists, who suddenly had each other to lean on, where before they had been trying to work it all out on their own. This was as powerful as the information that was shared.

I cannot believe that the fund is now 15 years old. I can’t fathom that this year we will deliver our 11th Management Workshop, now called The Future Makers. It is still Stacia, Carlo, John and I at the helm of the fund. Unfortunately Jacqui passed away soon after our first Workshop. She was incredibly proud of what we made together, and was so excited to facilitate many of those first conversations, bringing her incredible gusto and ‘think outside the box’ attitude into play at every opportunity.

Fifteen years is a long time to keep anything going, and looking back from this perspective, I am struck by a few key things: I am so proud of our small, tight-knit team that has stuck together through reshaping ourselves over and over to stay true to our intention over so many long, philosophical conversations about the ‘why’ of what we are doing. I am encouraged and inspired that an ambitious yet clear spark of an idea can create a real shift for many people. Carlo sums it up beautifully here: "The Seed’s rock solid foundation is based on the most crucial thing for any project – clear intention and purpose. This has not shifted throughout the years, and is a great example of how the power of a focused intention can ripple into a limitless amount of amazing outcomes. Although firmly grounded, The Seed is in constant evolution, this year's workshop will be a game changer."

The Future Makers (Management Workshop) has become our primary focus now. This is where we know we are creating our most powerful and long-lasting impact. This year we will put the largest group through yet – 33 participants agonisingly selected from over 300 deserving applications. These 33 will join over 250 emerging managers and self-managed musicians who have been through the workshop so far. The workshop is completely funded by The Seed Fund, which takes contributions from established artists and arts workers in our sector, while panellists from all areas of our industry generously donate their time, investing back into their community – models of generosity. 

As I cast my mind back to that hotel room, that gross sticky carpet, a couple of shaggy and shagged parents in their late 20s, an idea, a spark, a couple of phone calls, a meeting under a tree... somehow it all stuck, it all added up to something greater than we ever might have even allowed ourselves to dream it would. It has been the vehicle for connection that we naively hoped it might. I meet Seed alumni at every single music function I go to – they are scattered throughout festivals, award nights – and the acknowledgement of what we have shared and how we support each other runs deep, a knowing that we are all stitched into something greater than ourselves, a fabric of culture, and we all hold a responsibility to hold each other up, a responsibility to grow each other.

To date The Seed Fund has distributed over $1,000,000 worth of funding and initiatives, all raised through the private sector, predominantly from musicians and arts associates who are committed to seeing our community thrive.