Just as the winter chill leaves the Valley, thundering drums, kimonos and origami cranes appear for Matsuri, Phoenix’s 25-year-old festival of Japan.

The desert couldn’t be farther removed from the mist-filled jungles and pagodas of Japan. Yet, the festival historically draws 50,000 to 60,000 visitors over its two-day operation.

In recent years, an increasing number of young people come out to revel in the explosion of Japanese youth culture.

“You mean costplay or the anneemay?” said Brian Flanigan, the regional park manager for Heritage Square. He’s referring to cosplay and anime, the costumed culture of comic-crazed kids common to Japan.

“You have to attract a wide variety [of people],” he said. “There’s some controversy over that, but it’s what is current in Japan.”

I didn’t find Flanigan to debate the legitimacy of Japanese culture trends, however. I sought him out to explain the hidden parts of the festival — the money and labor it takes to bring festivals like Matsuri to Phoenix.

The hemorrhaging state budget has many people worried — among them, purveyors of foreign cultures. They worry that governmentally superfluous festivals like Matsuri will sit at the end of the financial food line, picking up only scraps, if anything at all.

Due to the budget meltdown, Flanigan told me that cultural festivals throughout Phoenix must rely more and more on their own resources, unable to count on the state’s flighty funding.

“Matsuri is 25 years strong; with the [prior] support of the city, they were able to stash away,” he said.

Every year, Matsuri used the city’s allocated money to the fullest, but festival managers skimmed any excess off the top and stashed it away for a rainy day.

Today is that rainy day.

Most of that saved money now goes toward basic services — trash, bathrooms, festival insurance and staff — that the city normally funds.

More than likely, city funding could soon dwindle to near nothing.

Income from booths and organizations also offsets the cost, but it just isn’t enough to cover everything.

The money provided by the state for utilities and technical machination has already decreased dramatically — dropping 50 percent last year and 100 percent this year. That money will never return, Flanigan said.

Officials have no idea what next year will bring, but nothing on the financial end of things looks good, he added.

Lucky for festival fans, volunteers and devoted organizations won’t let disastrous forecasts deter them.

“There are a lot of things that feed that dynamic,” Flanigan said. “It’s not just finance.”

He’s right. Loyal fans, myself included, won’t let the tradition die.

It’s up to the community to ensure these cultural gems don’t fade. So far, grants and donations have helped established festivals; however, I worry about the yet untraditional.

Phoenix residents encompass incredibly diverse backgrounds, all of which hold the promise of unique community festivals.

Not counting Oktoberfest, a holiday more focused on drinking than descendants, Phoenix lacks a truly German festival.

Last year, I covered the Arizona Center for Germanic Culture’s first Christkindlemarkt, a traditional celebration from Germany. However, with zero state money to start up, the upstart festival could easily sink below the obscurity line.

Lack of funding is no excuse to put the future on hold. If anything, it’s the best time for Phoenix to gain ground against other urban centers. If the state can’t handle the burden, it may be time for residents to show just how much they value their heritage.

Join Channing in his hunt for cultural diversity, particularly culinary diversity, at channing.turner@asu.edu.