Our draft 2026–2027 Rates Guide is now live — and we’re sharing it early so we can shape it together as a community. Feel free to create your own and if you already have one, we encourage you to share and discuss it.
Talking about pay can feel uncomfortable, and that silence has contributed to low fees and poor conditions. We hope this guide builds confidence, encourages open conversations, and reminds freelance artists that you’re not alone. As a community, we can organise for better standards and stronger business practices.
This guide benchmarks fair pay, highlights hidden costs, and shows the wage gap between the culture sector and freelance dance artists. It’s a tool for negotiating your worth, costing your full labour, and organising for safer, fairer and more sustainable working conditions.
*This draft doesn't contain specific details of services being offered. This can be risk assessed, based on each artist's practice and how they value their time and service.
**This also doesn't specify how artists should manange their practice, these rates are our guide for negotiating and planning so artists can and should charge more if that suits their practice.
Share the guide, talk openly about rates in your circles and communities, support each other in refusing low pay, and stand together to raise standards across the sector.
Feel free to also comment below:
What do you think? What’s missing? What needs to happen next?
FREE OPEN TRAINING SESSIONS EVERY FRIDAY WITH RAIN CREW 🌧
Starting 11 October 2024, come down and train with us at Charing Cross Library in Central London every Friday from 7pm-9pm.
Charing Cross Library mini-hub and Rain Crew are hosting free open training sessions for dancers across London. Everyone is welcome, with no costs attached. Just show up.
If you have any access requirements, you can let the Charing Cross Library team know in advance using the #WelcoMe platform.
If you have any questions or concerns, DM us or send an email to [email protected].
Follow @wcclibrariesandarchives for more activities and spaces.
We hope to see you there!
📸 @williamhartley
#RainCrew #WeBringTheRain #2035
🍄 Hiphop & Mushrooms; The Art of Reclaiming Space 🍄
Mycelium is the underground web of fungi, the part you never see. The mushroom is just the fruit; the good stuff is beneath the soil, growing in the cracks, in the spaces where no one thinks anything valuable could survive. Mushrooms don’t ask for permission, they don’t wait for perfect conditions. They spread quietly and persistently, adapting to whatever environment they find, breaking down what’s dead and feeding on what’s alive.
Hiphop was born in public space, in the cracks of cities that did not care for the people living in them. And it turned those cracks into culture. It fed off the energy of the streets, the noise, the chaos, the people and in return it fed the city right back, giving it rhythm and language and life. The city shaped Hiphop, and Hiphop shaped the city. A relationship that was symbiotic and messy like a living ecosystem.
But public space is disappearing, it's being regulated, surveilled, privatised and sanitised. You feel it when you pass a gated park with no people in it. Or a fancy building that is completely empty but has security guards ‘protecting’ it. The city is filled with ‘hostile’ or ‘defensive architecture’ aimed at fighting perceived social disorder and keeping people in check. It's dictating where we can be, when we can be and how we can be. It’s made us forget what community feels like. It's made us forget how to resist.
Hiphop got pushed indoors, into studios with polished floors and mirrors that reflect you back at yourself but don’t reflect the world that made you. And with the loss of space, we lose the chance to contaminate each other with ideas.
But there is hope! Maybe reclaiming space means being a bit more mushroom. Refusing to wait for permission and taking up space together. The roots are still alive beneath us and the city is still full of cracks where something wild could grow again..
Want to read more about mushrooms, hiphop and public space? Well you're in luck: https://lnkd.in/ekiW_eMZ
In April 2025 we held a series of Accountable Spaces sessions that explored safeguarding, community safety and collective accountability. These helped us to create some:
- Accountable spaces principles to minimise risk of harm for people using community spaces
- Safeguarding guidance and processes for handling situations of concern
- Collective accountability and community safety approaches for how we sustainably manage situations within the informal community settings that artists often operate in.
We're now holding some similar sessions in April 2026 to check-in and to update our approach. The sessions are an open discussion format and we'll produce some guidance to share after.
Online link in bio
6pm-7:30pm on Wed 08/04/26
Charing Cross Library (In-person)
6pm-7:30pm on Friday 10/04/26
Drop us a DM if you have any questions and see you there!
Where Do Our Values Go When We Clock In?
Professionalism as a Politics of Silence
Someone once said to me, “Personally, I support Palestine, but it’s different when you’re running an organisation.” I’ve been thinking about that sentence ever since. Not because it’s unusual, but because it’s so common that we barely notice how revealing that really is..
It raises a question that feels more and more urgent to me; why do our morals and principles seem to disappear the moment we turn on work mode?
This post will probably get shadow banned 😅 But I wrote some more about this dissonance, the gap between what we believe and what we perform, and what it costs us when our values don't make it past the office, studio or stage door.
🔗 in the bio!
What if funders applied to the people? Part 2..
The other week, I posted a proposal; What if funders applied to the people? Some loved it, some said that it would never work. Some people said if funders applied to the people, many artists would be missed. But the current system does not work. Artists are being overlooked right now with the efficiency of a well‑oiled machine. The system is broken now.
The idea that a new model might also overlook people isn’t an argument against the need for change, it’s an argument for implementing change constantly. If we only introduce new systems or ideas once they solve every single problem perfectly, we will never introduce anything at all.
The current funding system is built on unpaid labour. Artists create essays, budgets, partnerships, theories of change, community impact statements, safeguarding plans, climate strategies, all before a single penny is confirmed. Funders, meanwhile, are paid salaries to read these unpaid essays and decide who is worthy. The power imbalance is built in. The current system places all the blame and responsibility on the artists for either not applying, or not applying well enough.
So, let’s cook. What could it look like? Funders going out into the real world, attending rehearsals, community sessions, open mics, exhibitions, youth clubs, town halls, living rooms, street corners, car parks, squat parties and protests. Some funders might think they already do this, but it would take more than attending panels and conferences they get invited to. They’d have to get their hands dirty, and it would immediately expose which spaces they’re not in.
And the middle‑man problem I spoke about? Gone. If funders applied directly to artists there would be no need for large institutions to act as intermediaries, siphoning off the majority of the budget for their organisations infrastructure while offering artists crumbs. The money would go where it was meant to go.. to the people doing the work
This maybe isn’t a perfect solution, but it’s not meant to be. It’s a provocation, a dream. A reminder that the current system is not inevitable and it’s not sacred.
Dancer first - Host always! @odbchilly from @chillybristolbreakin ! From the floor to the mic - he'll get them all hype !
Big up your favourite dancer's favourite host...
Newham Palestine Solidarity Campaign were delighted and honoured to welcome our guests from the West Bank, Palestine on Thursday 5th February 2026, with CADFA.
It was a truly wonderful evening in Newham with so much warm energy.
We had our Zeinab speak and we learnt more about CADFA from Abed and Nandita, who help to run the organisation which brings Palestinian children to the UK, as part of a cultural exchange, beyond the checkpoints.
We had amazing and powerful performances from Speit and the Rain crew which made it an evening we will not forget.
We hope to hold many more events with CADFA, Speit and the Rain crew in the future.
A big thank you to Speit and everyone involved in making it a special event for our young visitors from Palestine 🇵🇸 ❤️🥰
We will not forget you and hope we see all the children and adults from the West Bank again soon.
@speit@raincrew@c.a.d.f.a@palforumuk@london4pal@prayer4gaza@x_flutterbybeautiful_x
#freepalestine #beyondthecheckpoints #endapartheid #freepalestinianhostages #freedompalestine #freedom #freechildprisoners #freethepeopleofpalestine
Partners often work with artists to access three assets: your brand, your expertise and your community. But artists don’t always understand why a partnership begins or ends, and when partners walk away, it can feel personal even when the project was tied to specific goals and timelines.
Artists can spend a lifetime developing these assets, often unconsciously and therefore, they may undervalue their time, under‑deliver on expectations or damage what they’ve built.
Partners often enter the relationship with clearer objectives, yet artists may see the relationship as a breakthrough, interpreting the project as a turning point or a sign that “big things are coming.” so when the project ends, disappointment can follow.
Clarity helps. Both artists and partners benefit from understanding how these relationships form, how they contribute to each other’s missions, and what each party takes away when the partnership ends.
On "brand"
Art helps people connect with themselves and others. Empathy is the artist’s tool; authenticity is a crucial outcome. People connect to what they recognise as real because it reflects a truth within themselves.
Partners may want to borrow your brand, your identity, lived experience, values or credibility, to strengthen their own. For many artists, their body of work introduces them before they enter the room. Yet artists often feel pressure to appear "neutral" or "objective" to be “professional,” sanitising their point of view to appear more marketable.
This can undermine the very thing that makes an artist valuable: a subjective, courageous, culturally rooted point of view.
For example, many artists in the dance community hold strong beliefs, yet you wouldn’t know it from their work. Over time, avoiding risk becomes a habit. You become good at what you practice most, and if you practice saying nothing, you eventually become excellent at silence. Ironically, this makes you less marketable, not more.
Understanding the value of your brand helps you be intentional about who you lend your authenticity to. When a partnership ends, you can know whether your brand was return intact, strengthened or harmed.
🎥 @withsoph_
What if Funders Applied to the People?
Arts funding in the UK is like a weird obstacle course where artists are forced to compete for tiny pots of money, answering ridiculous questions.
‘Describe your entire artistic practice, life story, all your trauma, and future impact on society in 100 words. Explain how your project will solve social inequality, boost the economy, and revitalise the local high street in 150 words.’ Then a group of strangers decide whether your work is innovative and meaningful enough. And after all that unpaid labour, you get an automated rejection email: Unfortunately, due to the high volume of applications...
What if... stay with me, the funders were to apply to us? Funders get to decide who gets support without ever having to prove their value to the people actually doing the work. Imagine this shift, practically. Funders would submit their applications to artists, collectives, and communities. They would have to demonstrate:
- How well they understand the artform: Not in a “I once saw a dance piece and didn’t get it” way, but in a real way.
- Their track record: Have they supported diverse artists? Have they caused harm? Who did they apply to? Who did they not apply to?
- Their values: Do they truly support the communities they claim to serve?
- Their internal diversity: Who’s making decisions? Who’s in the room?
- Their actual usefulness: Do they listen? Do they show up? What's there beyond cash?
- Their money: Where does it come from? Are people harmed because of their funds?
- Their agenda: Who are they accountable to? Who do they listen to? Whose problems are they solving?
This would genuinely be a better use of time and money. Right now, thousands of artists spend hundreds of unpaid hours applying for grants they statistically will never get. Funders, who get paid to do their job, spend thousands of hours reading applications that don’t align with their priorities. Everyone is exhausted. No one is happy and the power dynamic is way off.
I wrote some more about in the link in the bio, let me know your thoughts :)
🔗 https://lnkd.in/ejrm_mvv
A client will contact three dance artists for a quote and instantly know the sector’s rates, while many artists don’t know what their peers charge because we don’t talk to each other as workers. Fear of charging too much or too little keeps us silent.
Artists often set their rates around a client’s budget instead of defining their own. This would be like a shopkeeper asking how much money you have before telling you the price.
Many freelance artists mistake their clients for their employer and hold them to standards they don’t hold for themselves.
Some say they weren’t given a contract, when artists should have their own templates, or addendums to attach to a client or partner's contract, to protect their work, time and conditions.
Artists often feel a client “asked for too much,” without recognising that most clients aren’t set up to assess risk, labour or health and safety. That responsibility sits with the artist: to risk‑assess the work, understand the impact on their labour, and ensure it’s reflected in the fee.
Resentment can also build when years of experience aren’t recognised by clients who barely know you. But instead of triaging enquiries, educating clients and charging for that expertise, artists often absorb the cost themselves.
And while many expect higher pay for years of service, most clients focus on impact and avoid age‑based rates which could be a breach of the Equality Act 2010 and increase pay gaps. Pay in most sectors is usually based on skills, impact and responsibility, not age or time served. Defining these can help in discussions with clients.
Art is often framed as valuable because it’s scarce, but cultural art is abundant, essential and deeply valued. Reframing our thinking beyond capitalist and parental conditioning can help artists understand the true value of their practice and our role in shaping it.
There’s a lot of experience within our communities, and there are many ways to make art sustainable, yet when artists don’t share perspectives, don’t organise and don’t act collectively, inequality becomes the norm.
🎥 @withsoph_
