Jumper

Diane Ragsdale on what the arts do and why

Archives for June 2011

On toilet-scrubbing Boomers & succession planning

In last week’s post, I asked whether the nonprofit art sector in the US constitutes ‘good work’ from the perspective of the artists and staffers working therein. The paragraph on ‘scrubbing toilets’ sparked quite a bit of attention and stimulated several comments on succession planning. While succession planning (or the lack of it) in the nonprofit arts sector was not the solution (problem) I was aiming at in my first post, it’s a compelling topic, so I thought I’d share a few thoughts.

In 2005, Jerry Yoshitomi and I co-moderated a panel session at a Grantmakers in the Arts conference called Bye Bye Boomer (Hello Retirement); or Is It Time to ‘Retire Retirement’? In advance of the session we created a little survey and polled our friends and contacts. It was informal and non-scientific. We just wanted to use the responses to help stimulate a conversation at the session. We had an equal number of Boomers and those younger than Boomers take the survey. Here’s my recollection of the gist of the more memorable (read: hostile, moving, or passionate) responses from our convenience survey:

Boomers reflected that they had worked hard to achieve their positions (and decent salaries, finally!) and resented feeling compelled to move along just because others coming up were eager to take over and they were nearing official ‘retirement age’. Additionally, almost none of them could afford to retire (having no pensions or savings from years of low- or no-paying nonprofit work). Many were put off by unwilling-to-pay-their-dues young upstarts expecting decent salaries and top posts straight out of college and to work bankers’ hours.

Younger respondents resented that they were stuck with useless degrees and loans to pay off and that they had few options, none of them appealing: (1) start your own small (and unlikely to become large) company that pays nothing (hard to do when you have $60,000 in student loans to pay off); (2) work day and night for low wages in an established institution and hang out for a couple decades in the hope that you will eventually be promoted; or (3) take over an organization that’s been driven into the ground and spend years trying to ‘fix’ the institution without ‘changing it’ and thereby offending the board, funders, donors, and current patrons.

I’ve since seen such sentiments reflected time and again. But these arguments are beside the point (and perhaps growing a bit tired). Whether or not Boomers should stay in their nonprofit posts for 20 more years or begin to turn the reins over to a next generation (or at least promote them to positions with meaningful authority) is not a decision that should be based on ‘what’s owed’ to Boomers (for their years of no-wage toilet scrubbing) or to those (overeducated grads saddled with debt) who are eager to grab their jobs.

What about what’s best for the mission? What’s best for the arts and culture sector?

Plenty of my friends are Boomers and many of them are incredibly effective in their leadership positions and have deep knowledge of and ties to their communities (relationships which translate into resources for the institution); it’s hard for me to imagine that their individual institutions or the sector as a whole would be better off if they all suddenly began jumping ship. Having said this, I think the arts and culture sector will be stagnant 20 years from now if it doesn’t start trusting (and investing in) 18-35 year olds and heeding their ideas on how to produce, curate, finance, ‘market’ (will we even use this term in 15 years?), and distribute both mediated content and ‘live arts’ events.

Four Eyed Monsters is a 2005 film by Susan Buice and Arin Crumley. While it is a very low budget digital video production, the young filmmakers gained significant attention for their use of various web-related strategies for distributing and building an audience for their film. As I understand it, Buice and Crumley were wooed by several companies (with no toilet scrubbing required as part of the deal) when their methods for creating, marketing, and distributing their film came to light.***

What was considered to be incredibly innovative by the arts and entertainment industry establishment appeared to be completely intuitive for Buice and Crumley. We talk about the need to ‘find new models’ … ‘re-think the nature of liveness’ … ‘change the relationship between artist/audience’ … ‘get rid of artificial divides (disciplinary, nonprofit/commercial, business/art)’. I don’t think smoke starts pouring out of the ears of the Millenials when they try to think about these things. The new paradigms just make more sense to them than the old ones.

My intuition would never have led me to the marketing and distribution tactics created by Buice and Crumley. I was incredibly enthused when I heard about Four Eyed Monsters. I was also envious as I realized that I probably couldn’t trust my instincts for how to market anymore. I’ve joked with friends that perhaps we need reverse professional development programs in the nonprofit arts sector: Boomers and GenX leaders taking courses taught by those in GenerationY. I’d sign up.

A few years back a national service organization contacted me as they were designing a new comprehensive professional development program aimed at ‘young/future/emerging leaders’. They solicited my thoughts on what such leaders want and need to learn. I said (essentially): “I think many of them are, for the most part, overdeveloped from the standpoint of workshops, seminars, and webinars. What they need and want is the chance to put into action what they have learned. Make some decisions, exercise some judgments. Act. Fail. Reflect. Learn. Act. Succeed. Reflect. Learn. Can you give them that?”

Do young people make mistakes? Sure. Did I when I ran my first organization at the age of 30? Or my second at age 34? Uh huh. And last I checked people don’t stop making mistakes when they turn 40 or 50 or 60. There is greater risk in keeping the next generation tethered (and bored and frustrated) than in unleashing their power and perhaps having them make some mistakes.

There were some terrific comments on last week’s Jumper post–notably a particularly thoughtful one from David Dower about his experiences both scrubbing toilets in exchange for the opportunity to learn/participate early in his career, and (later and currently) mentoring the next generation. David is a great leader who is striving to provide a platform for his staff to exercise their ideas. And there are many more like David (in small and large institutions across the US).  I certainly hope they do not leave the sector anytime soon. I also hope that when their young staffers are ready to run institutions that they will have the opportunity to do so.

As to those leaders who need to move on for the good of their institutions but who are reluctant to do so (perhaps because they are not psychologically or financially prepared to let go) … well, how and when to deal with them, and whether or not to require them to come up with succession plans and perhaps give them emeritus positions and salaries for a period of time (just a thought),  is in the hands of governing boards across the US. Let’s hope they are paying attention.

*** Thanks to friend and (20 Under 40 author) Brian Newman for first turning me on to Buice and Crumley and countless other great new ideas, companies, & perspectives these past five years.

Toilet brush and gloves image by Kiselev Andrey Valerevich licensed by Shutterstock.com.

It may be excellent work … but is it good?

A few years back I heard Howard Gardner speak in a lecture series at MOMA in NYC called The True, the Beautiful and the Good, Reconsiderations in a Postmodern, Digital Era. I attended the lecture on ‘the Good’ in which Gardner described ‘good work’ (in the sense of one’s vocation/job) as work that is excellent, engaging, and ethical (for more on this idea, check out Gardner’s Goodwork Toolkit). As soon as I heard the description my mind began working on a question: By-and-large, are nonprofit arts organizations doing ‘good’ (i.e., excellent, engaging, and ethical) work? While there are many arts organizations that are beloved by the artists and staffers that work there, anecdotal evidence seems to suggest that (at least at some institutions) one or more legs of the ‘goodwork’ stool may need shoring up.

Some have written that Philadelphia Orchestra’s filing for Chapter 11 Bankruptcy is a ploy to enable them to renege on the pension benefits that they once promised to musicians.  A post on Norman Lebrecht’s blog describes the new Metropolitan Opera contract for conductors as one which requires them to ‘sign their lives away’. And of course there is the oft-referenced and remarkable statistic that orchestra musician job satisfaction ranked below that of prison guards in one study (Allmendinger, Hackman, and Lehman (1996), p. 202).

Likewise, the book Outrageous Fortune is chock-full of observations by playwrights that would suggest that the process of having their plays developed by a major nonprofit resident theater is often demoralizing or oppressive. Moreover, some playwrights say they prefer working for TV over the American theater not just because it pays more but because it is often more creative.

And while (in the good news column) some nonprofit theaters have in recent years modified their stances on subsidiary rights (in favor of playwrights) it’s not clear that the move was entirely altruistic; some simply seem to have realized that the relatively small amounts of money they were making off the artists were not worth looking like jerks and potentially losing goodwill and funding. More importantly, one might ask how such rights ever became the standard in nonprofit organization contracts?

I talk with young arts administrators who have graduated with the aspiration to do ‘good work’ in a nonprofit arts organization who, one or two years later, are bored and frustrated. They feel like cogs in a machine, or like slave labor, working long hours for low pay (all the more challenging if they know the artistic or executive director is making 15 or 20 times as much) and doing not very interesting work. The last point is an important one. I often hear Baby Boomers decry that they had to scrub the toilets and take out the trash at their theaters when they first started them. Yeah, well so did almost every entrepreneur that ever started his or her own small business. But let’s face it, taking out the trash (much less doing data entry) is much easier to endure if you know that you also get to program the season, or have dinner with a major American playwright and discuss her work, or choreograph a new work later this year.

If I had a dime for every time a nonprofit arts admin staffer said to me, “our organization is filled with people under 35 who have great ideas but the artistic and managing directors have no interest in what we have to say” I’d be able to buy a round-trip ticket Amsterdam to NYC. Similarly, actors, musicians, dancers, and other artists (unless they are celebrities) are rarely invited to share their opinions on programming or marketing or fundraising strategies. While I acknowledge that some may have no interest in such matters, my sense is that some do but that their ideas often die on the vine because no one thought they’d be worth picking.

This all strikes me as wrong. It seems that nonprofits should hold themselves accountable for being places where process matters as much as product and where ‘good work’ reliably happens. Places where administrators and artists alike are able to do excellent work (e.g., are given sufficient rehearsal time), are engaged in the work (e.g., have the autonomy to be creative and feel ownership of the mission), and are treated and behave ethically (e.g., contracts do not advantage institutions at the expense of artists).

Yes, organizations face uncertain times and unfavorable financial circumstances. Such an environment can require dramatic changes in the size or scope of an institution. Union contracts may very well need to change and it may not be possible to sustain the infrastructure that was once created–and administrators and artists alike must face this reality. But what are we safeguarding as we make such changes? If not the promise of ‘good work’ then is it worth keeping the doors open? How these changes happen is as important as whether they happen.

We have for years taken for granted that nonprofit arts institutions are inherently more trustworthy than commercial entities and are (more) worthwhile and creative places to work. However, the experiences of at least some artists and arts administrators would suggest that even when arts organizations appear to be achieving a certain kind of excellence (selling out the hall, doing great work on stage, raising lots of money, or balancing their budgets), the toll exacted for that ‘excellent’ work may be ‘goodness’ in the process.

Image of arrow signs by IQoncept, licensed at shutterstock.com.

The crucial gap once filled by Florida Stage

Last week, it was announced in the Miami Herald that Florida Stage would be filing for Chapter 7 bankruptcy protection and closing its doors for good. I am haunted by the thought that the American Theater has just lost an organization without fully grasping the critical role that it played. It appears that the move to a new space was a key factor in financial troubles that eventually left the company with a $1.5 million debt (significant for a theater of its size). This closing has left me feeling sad and disappointed in the trajectory of the American Theater.

Do funders and others understand what is at risk if we cannot sustain the midsized theaters in the US that often take great risks and do great work (think Woolly Mammoth) and often at a fraction of the overhead expense incurred by much larger theaters? As has been noted in the press, Florida Stage was one of the midsized gems in the regional theater in the US. It had a national reputation for producing new work and was a founding and leading member of the National New Play Network (a consortium of midsized theaters that work together to co-commission and produce new plays). However, it seems that this award-winning theater was not sufficiently valued by national and regional funders, donors, and audiences to sustain a $4.1 (or even $3 million) budget. Are we headed for a future in which no theater in the US can commit to a ‘season of new works’ as Florida Stage did for years?

As regards the challenges faced as a result of the move to the new space–well, I wish I could say that this was a surprising result. Unfortunately, over the past few decades we have seen way too many examples of successful theaters (and other arts organizations) seeking, or being encouraged, to trade-up to niftier digs and then falling into financial turmoil as a result. We all know this story: the first couple years generally go OK as there is often great enthusiasm for the new space and people like to put their names on buildings; 3-5 years later organizations are often panicked when they realize that that ticket sales are coming in lower than projected, the electric bill is higher than projected, and the donors that were so enthused to put their names on a brick or a wall are not quite as enthused to provide additional operating funds to support the mission and pay the running costs. Behind the eight ball, these organizations do not generally close; instead, they often ‘evolve’ their missions to suit their new buildings (i.e., begin taking fewer artistic risks).

The case of Florida Stage appears to be somewhat extreme: it seems that audiences in its new venue were significantly lower than they had been in the year prior to the move. Because they closed so quickly, we’ll never know if they might have been able to sustain a larger budget and still maintain a longstanding commitment to new works.

Last week, I penned a post for Arts Queensland’s blog: Are arts groups creating too much of a good thing, or not enough? Can we answer the question? (It’s essentially on the supply demand issue and evaluation.) In it, I wrote:

Rather than using evaluations to help funders assess and rank organizations based on one public value criterion (e.g. excellence) rather than another (e.g. innovation), perhaps they should be used to help organizations and funders alike better comprehend the arts ecosystem (how it works, where it’s healthy, and where it’s ill) and their role in it; to understand where they are playing an important role; to understand where they may be duplicating efforts or missions with other organizations; and to understand where gaps in the system exist that need to be addressed.

Not all, but certainly many small and midsized theaters are highly valued by playwrights, actors, designers, directors, and others because they will work with artists before they have established themselves (or ’emerged’ as we sometimes say) and, thereby, help to advace their careers (at which point the larger regional theaters will often pick them up). In other words, many small and midsized theaters appear to be doing critical ‘artist and repertoire development’.

It’s a sad reality that, generally speaking, it’s difficult for even the best midsized theaters to compete against the regional behemoths (with their much larger development departments) to secure high profile board members, high net worth donors, and significant grants (the exception, perhaps, being capital funds to build new buildings). Like salt to the wound, not only are midsized theaters often overlooked by donors and funders, but they often end up reading about much larger theaters being awarded grants that will enable them to commission, develop, or produce one or two new works, or put on a festival of new plays, amidst a season of otherwise safe, if not downright commercial, fare.

I’m not sure why Florida Stage could not attract larger audiences in its new space and there is, no doubt, more to the story than I could glean from the papers. Candidly, I wish the board might have been willing to form a strategic alliance with another organization, or move out of the Kravis Center and relocate back to Manalapan, before closing the doors of the theater ‘for good’. Or, at the very least, I wish that the financial troubles had been made public long before the theater reached the point of no return–allowing for the possibility of a consortium of funders and donors to come together and help the organization dig out of its debt and develop a new business plan.

Perhaps these (and other) options were considered but were not feasible? If so, I’m sorry that Florida Stage was left with no option except to close.

While $1.5 million is a significant amount of money to raise, I hope and trust that in making the decision to close the board members of  Florida Stage weighed its debt not simply against the annual operating budget of the theater and the pockets of those board members potentially saddled with the financial burden, but against the critical role and great value provided by Florida Stage in the local, regional, and national artistic landscape. Years from now, I’m betting that artists and funders will be talking with regret about the ‘crucial gap’ that was once filled by Florida Stage and has yet to be replaced by another theater.

Gold cubes image by F. ENOT, licensed at Shutterstock.com.

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