Last week, I was supposed to be at the Evergreen conference speaking about small-scale placemaking. Instead, I was at home sick. It’s now Monday, and I’m still recovering.
To be honest, I spent far too long trying to convince myself I could still make it work. Maybe if I rested all morning. Maybe if I only stayed for my session. Maybe if I masked and kept my distance. Maybe if I just pushed through.
And in hindsight, that instinct feels deeply connected to the very thing I was supposed to speak about. Across Canada, we celebrate small-scale, grassroots city-building because it is creative, nimble, community-led, and often able to move faster than larger systems. We celebrate murals, gardens, block parties, laneway activations, and neighbourhood interventions because they make our cities feel more human.
But what we talk about less is what holds this work together behind the scenes. In very small organizations, there are rarely extra layers of staffing or backup systems. When one person steps away, things can stall completely. The work is often held together by people stretching themselves thin, carrying multiple roles, answering emails late at night, managing logistics, facilitating community relationships, fundraising, troubleshooting, and quietly absorbing pressure that never appears in project budgets.
A lot of “low-cost” placemaking is only low-cost because the real costs are absorbed elsewhere.
By workers.
By artists.
By organizers.
By volunteers.
By community members.
Sometimes by people trying to attend conferences while sick because missing an opportunity feels impossible. Eh hem.
I care deeply about this work. I’ve seen firsthand how small interventions can strengthen neighbourhood relationships, create belonging, and help people feel more connected to where they live. But if we want this work to be sustainable, the people doing it need to be sustainable too.
That means properly resourcing engagement, coordination, stewardship, administration, and care. It means recognizing that community-led work is labour-intensive. It means acknowledging that “small-scale” does not mean effortless.
And sometimes, it means staying home and recovering instead of pushing through.
I’m still disappointed I missed the conference - I am having serious FOMO at the moment. But I also think this experience unintentionally reinforced the point I was planning to make: we cannot continue building healthier, more connected communities on the backs of people who are running themselves into the ground to make it happen.