The April edition of Free Range Thinking (a short newsletter on nonprofits and storytelling, available for download here) shares an insight that should be second nature to all arts managers — the compelling and endearing qualities of flaws and imperfections.
The story focuses on Character, LLC, a consulting company that revamps and refreshes brand icons, such as M&Ms, Goldfish crackers, and Ronald McDonald. Among other things, the company runs an intensive Character Camp for brand managers, who tend to make a common mistake:
When corporations bring their characters to camp, [Character founder David] Altschul says, the most frequent problem is perfection. ”The characters are charming, friendly, and helpful,” Altschul explains, ”and the closest they come to having a flaw is when they’re described as a little mischievous.” What the marketing managers find delightful, however, is deadly dull to the audience. It’s the flaws, Altschul says, that make characters interesting. Or as his partner, Brian Lanahan, succinctly puts it, ”Superman is boring without kryptonite.”
It’s an insight as old as theater — conflict, flaw, and tension are what make narratives compelling. And yet, read through most arts marketing materials or grant applications and what will you find? Perfection, triumph, success, and positive spin. Their performances are always exceptional. Their audiences are always ecstatic. Their reviews are always resounding (or mysteriously missing from the packet). Their communities are always connected and enthralled. In short, they are superhuman, disconnected, and insincere.
I’m not suggesting that cultural nonprofits shouldn’t publicly celebrate successes — heaven knows they’ve earned them. I’m just reminding us that imperfection and struggle are part of what makes great art great. And evidence of that same struggle in an arts organization makes the insulated and iconic seem more real and human.
So the next time you find only superlatives in your communications or your grant narratives, take an honest look at what you’re talking about. Odds are that there’s a flaw somewhere in your organization’s character, or a target you didn’t quite hit, that will make your story more powerful and more real.
What a great post, Andrew. You make a number of points that could be of real value to grant-writers.
Anyone who has reviewed grants — especially many of them at one time in a competitive context — knows that a grant narrative that doesn’t feel real isn’t interesting. Strings of superlatives make every application read the same after awhile.
Most funders want to believe that their gifts will make a difference to an organization. While sustaining excellence is a worthy goal, funders that I know are more attracted to solving problems or strengthening areas of weakness.
An organization without weaknesses doesn’t seem to need a funder’s intervention.
I look forward to reading your blog every day, as do most of my friends. Thanks for another great post.
Neill
Intriguing as always, but I will admit this one had me a little stumped. I can see the grant applications very well; it’s harder for me to apply this to marketing communications. How on earth do we find a way to highlight our flaws in a way that doesn’t send our audiences running for the hills?
In giving it more thought, I think it’s more about brand engagement than anything else. If part of your brand is that you are a place of experimentation, a place where people can come and expand their horizons, this is a little easier. But if you claim you present/produce the “best” of whatever art form you happen to deal in, you’re on a slippery slope, because your audience is going to decide for themselves what is best and what isn’t.
As in most things, it’s about telling the truth. If the show isn’t the glittery blockbuster your audience has come to expect, you’d better find a good way to tell them that. If you’re trying to fill a gap in the community’s artistic fabric, what’s wrong with saying that? As marketers, we are so caught up in clever wordsmithing that we often forget to talk about what the show/exhibit/class really is, and what it isn’t. Thanks for the reminder.
Thanks Neill, and great points Jodi,
Where I’ve seen struggle, conflict, and imperfection work best in marketing efforts (even for those organizations that lay claim to the highest quality) is when they open up the rehearsal, development, or backstage elements of an event.
To see a dancer miss a combination in rehearsal or struggle with a leap, for example, makes the final event that much more breathtaking. Knowing how hard it is, how fragile the moment can be, combines the imperfection and excellence in a stunning contrast.
The same could be said for backstage glimpses of the duct tape and binding wire that hold together an otherwise spectacular set.
That said, some audiences HATE that view of things, and want the fantasy to remain a fantasy. So, it’s best to share these elements of your work in a way that visitors can opt into by choice (think weblogs, on-line videos, backstage tours, open rehearsals).
Just some thoughts. I welcome others.
This post resonates with me in regard to both organizations and artists.
Within organizations, telling the stories of our failures can make the subsequent successes much sweeter. When I taught Disney history to new hires, it was critical to tell the stories of Walt’s initial failures and rejections in order to cultivate their empathy for both Walt and the massive organization that bears his name. On an internal basis, telling the stories of adversity can remind staff (and board and volunteers) of the effort and struggle that eventually yielded the opportunities now in their hands. And it can also communicate that failure is a healthy part of a living organization.
In regard to marketing artists, I agree that insight into the highs and lows of an artist’s background can build common ground with potential audiences and paint a multi-dimensional picture of the person, not just the product that appears on the stage. These are often the kind of stories told in personality profiles in magazines and newspapers, so perhaps knowing about an artist’s struggles could help us prepare a more compelling media pitch.
Andrew, what a great idea virus. The mirage of perfection. As an ideal, in the abstract, perfection is a noble pursuit, no? But everyone understands intuitively that without the blemishes, the perfect face is meaningless. That irreguarities add character to anything natural or human. I think Beethoven got that idea amazingly well.
Another angle on this for nonprofits is the way they try to micro-manage their message with the media… “Everything’s perfect, just perfect, thank you” …when of course it’s not. The illusion of a “perfect reputation” to uphold in the media. I think a lot of board members (and PR directors) think that media should only get positive messages.
My own experience (as a former Festival Director) is that reporters respond pretty well when you hang out the dirty laundry early and often. It builds credibility. Then, if things get better, there’s a real story to tell. And if things get worse, you’re not perpetually in damage control mode.
In other words, stop trying so hard to manage the information. Instead, make a practice of sharing your challenges as well as your triumphs – your pain and your joy. One without the other is either very sad news or a lie. PR folks will have my head on a platter for this one.
Although I agree with all of the comments made about showing our flaws as arts organizations in order to make our audiences feel part of the process, I also think that there is a certain danger in it.
It seems to all come down to the amount and level of flaws we show. Although it might be a good idea to let reporters know what issues might be on the horizon with an organization, it is also important to remember that in order to inspire faith in the organization for donors and audiences, we must also show the way out of those issues. We must present the solution, as well as the problem.