A Letter from the North and the Isles, to Ophelia in Brussels
Written by the UK and Nordic Hubs, collaborators of the upcoming Satellite BEYOND, “Different Times, New Solutions: CAE Nordic-Baltic Satellite Meeting” taking place in Riga, Latvia 14-16 April 2026.
This letter is a part of Culture Action Europe’s At the Heart series, “Love Letters to Culture.” This February, we’re inviting hosts of the upcoming 2026 Satellite BEYOND events to write their own love letter. Not necessarily to a person, but to something that holds meaning within their Satellites: a location, an object, a site, an event, a fleeting moment between people, or something more abstract, like potential, hope, care, continuity. These letters speak to what members love about culture, why this matters where they are, and what makes their Satellite more than just a programme.
What an intimate privilege to see where care blossoms across our network’s communities. Learn more and join us at a Satellite near you.
My dearest Ophelia,
Doubt thou the stars are fire,
Doubt that the sun doth move,
Doubt truth to be a liar,
But never doubt we love thee.
We write to you from many shores at once,
from the long light of the Nordic summer,
from the Baltic winds,
from the restless stages and studios of the UK.
We are many voices, yet one breath,
artists, cultural workers, keepers of fragile commons,
speaking now as Hamlet once did,
not mad, but made so by the times.
You, Ophelia, stand at the centre of our orbit.
We look to you for direction,
for language when the world grows coarse,
for courage when policy forgets poetry.
You taught us to read the stars as a compass,
to believe culture is not ornament but necessity,
not a whisper but a force.
And yet, my love,
between Elsinore and Brussels lie corridors long and narrow,
where forms are many and time is thin.
We arrive with full hearts and empty pockets,
asked to conjure gatherings, bridges, futures,
with a purse light as a sigh,
two thousand euros to carry a continent’s conversation.
Forgive us if we smile while counting coins,
for love has taught us grace,
but rent has taught us arithmetic.
Do not mistake this for reproach.
It is a confession.
We would cross seas still,
we would speak, host, gather, imagine,
even when the conditions make loving hard.
But love, if it is to endure,
must be fed, trusted, and paid its due.
So hear us, Ophelia.
We remain yours, steadfast and true,
asking not for riches, only for fairness,
that our devotion be met with care,
that our labour not vanish like a ghost at dawn.
Remember us when you walk the halls of Brussels.
We are here, still setting sail,
still choosing love,
still believing this story can end otherwise.
Ever yours,
Hamlet
PS I forgot to tell you how things changed since you floated downstream
Garlanded with hedgerow flowers, a muse for Millais.
Painters, poets and the like now wait in bread queues, sign on the dole
Or live out their lives waiting tables, washing dishes, wiping arses
Cracked hands red raw, too sore to hold paintbrush or pen
Eyelids too heavy to see the ‘Exit’, minds dulled by mindless drudgery
Their imagination plundered, their skills devalued, their livelihoods stolen
Schooled in infinite possibilities, emerging to a zero sum game
Drowning in debt and despair, ambition an alien concept,
Creativity afforded only to those with wealthy parents
Government plaudits for the cultural industries reward advertising,
Gaming and growth agendas that threaten to destroy us all
The Tempest is upon us and your sister Miranda is marooned
The starving artist in a garret is no longer just an 18th century romantic stereotype
But a completely avoidable 21st century tragedy
There is nothing intelligent about the artificial means to reproduce
Our works, crafted from a creative impulse that burns in our hearts
Keeps us awake at night and fills our waking hours with wondering
Taylor Swift knows well the ‘Fate of Ophelia’
“Pledge allegiance to your hands, your team, your vibes”, she intones
So dear sweet mad Ophelia, teach us how to read the runes
To take succour from the resilience of nature
Let the show-girls run the show, dictate the terms and conditions,
Let the actors, musicians, dancers, writers, stage technicians et al
Hold court in the palaces of the powerful
Let fair begin here.