Jumper

Diane Ragsdale on what the arts do and why

Archives for 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.

Why not rid ourselves of the nonprofit burden?

Chad Bauman, Director of Communications at Arena Stage, has suggested in a recent post on his blog that perhaps nonprofit resident theaters should consider casting off their nonprofit status. These are surprising words given the rather generously supported theater where he works. When I suggested in my recent post L3C Cha Cha Cha (referenced by Mr. Bauman) that some nonprofits might have been more appropriately organized at the outset as L3C’s (if such a model had existed at the time) I was not suggesting that current nonprofits give up their 501(c)3 status. Putting aside the ‘charitable and educational’ mission implications for the time being (an important topic for another day, perhaps), there are clearly legal and financial implications of such conversions that would need to be weighed:

  • First, once you add the tax burdens and increased expenses and eliminate the contributed resources to support both capital growth and ongoing operations I would venture to say that the current programming model, buildings, and administrative staff infrastructure for most resident theaters could not be supported. Becoming for-profit doesn’t simply result in the loss of government grants. Among other things, giving up nonprofit status also means losing the ability to accept tax exempt contributions and losing (in some states) property tax exemption. I assume it may also result in the necessity to pay higher wages to actors, stage hands and more competitive wages to administrative staff.
  • Second, donations come with restrictions and the assets of a nonprofit cannot simply be turned over to a for-profit. To use Arena Stage as an example, public and private donors gave money in good faith to support its operations (now and in the future), and to build its impressive buildings believing that funds would be used in perpetuity to support the mission.Would those gifts need to be returned or transferred to another nonprofit? Would the buildings need to be turned over to a qualified 501(c)3 organization? Would Arena need to pay back-taxes on its buildings? (BTW, it’s recently been reported that the Annenberg Foundation may ask for the return of the remainder of its $50 million gift to the Philadelphia Orchestra because the symphony has recently filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection).
  • Third, I think that Mr. Bauman may be overestimating the degree to which additional user fees (higher ticket prices in exchange for VIP amenities, for instance) could compensate for some portion of the loss of contributions, especially when Arena is already charging as much as $110 for tickets (in other words, I’m not sure how much more people would be willing to pay). Furthermore, Arena could lose patron trust and goodwill by converting to a for-profit: to the degree that some of its loyal subscribers actually care about its mission and go to shows at Arena Stage in order to support that mission, it’s not unreasonable to think that some might shift their loyalty to another nonprofit theater (Woolly Mammoth, for instance)?
  • Fourth, Bauman suggests that some of a nonprofit’s donors (its board members, for instance) might become ‘investors’; perhaps, but then one assumes they would be expecting to share in profits. If surpluses are small or nonexistent then it stands to reason that, in time, such investors would find somewhere else to put their funds. Moreover, I don’t recall hearing any commercial producers saying it’s become easier in recent years to find investors for their shows. Bauman also suggests that becoming for-profit could eliminate the volatility inherent in the nonprofit business model; but I’m not sure why he thinks that a market-driven model would be any more stable than one reliant on contributed revenues? Commercial and nonprofit entities alike are in search of new business models these days.

From where I sit (and albeit, that is not and never has been at the head of a theater like Arena) large leading nonprofit arts institutions (like Arena) benefit from the nonprofit model far more than they are burdened by it. The majority of all contributions to the nonprofit arts and culture sector flow to such institutions. If any nonprofits would benefit from considering a new model it is most likely those smaller institutions that have a very slim chance of ever becoming recipients of significant contributions (hence the recommendations in my L3C Cha Cha Cha post). Indeed, given the fact that Arena Stage has a brand new $125 million building, I imagine largely paid for through contributions (one assumes with significant gifts from the Mead and Kogod families), it strikes me as somewhat cheeky to suggest that the nonprofit model is not working for Arena and that such donations are easily replaced with other revenues sources with a few tweaks to the business model.

Sisyphean Toil image by sellingpix, licensed on Shutterstock.com.

Oh, nonprofit model. Where do we go from here?

DER Blogging on AftA's ARTSblog May 16-20

May 16-20 I blogged for Americans for the Arts on ARTSblog. AftA brought together a group of thinkers to ponder the future of the nonprofit model. (Cue dramatic music.) In all seriousness, I’m honored to have been asked to contribute to the discussion.

Here’s the framing post for the discussion, written by Valerie Beaman and my three posts: L3C Cha Cha Cha, Need a new way of working? How about the old way?, and The Blurring/Vanishing/Missing Line Between Commercial and Nonprofit. And if you go to AftA’s Private Sector Blog and scroll to posts during the week of May 16-20 you can read the rest!

Outsourcing Admin: Not Just for the Money Savings

In a post a few weeks back I suggested that, rather than radical innovation, the arts sector might see some pretty great results through some common sense improvements. I suggested as an example “communities of organizations forming cooperative agreements for the use of space, or investments in shared technology, or other resources.” Strategic alliances, shared services, and partnerships sure sound good on paper but, one might ask, are they paying off in practice?

A couple weeks I ago I was directed to a great post on the blog of Betsy Sturdevant, principal bassoonist for the Columbus Symphony; it’s entitled YES, things really have changed for the Columbus Symphony. Sturdevant walks readers through the dire straits the Columbus Symphony faced the past several years and some of its recent positive changes. Here is an excerpt on the beginning of the turnaround:

The recession resulted in further decline in donations and ticket sales for the orchestra, and by February of 2010, the Columbus Symphony’s financial status had became dire.  The orchestra’s new leaders, CEO Roland Valliere and Board Chair Martin Inglis, determined that the orchestra would have to either cease operations or radically restructure.  The musicians voted to accept compensation cuts of 20% in order to save the orchestra, and the symphony’s administrative duties were turned over to CAPA, the Columbus Association for the Performing Arts. CAPA’s dynamic President and CEO Bill Conner became the symphony’s CEO, and Roland Valliere became the symphony’s President and Chief Creative Officer. Now, only a year later, it’s safe to say that the Columbus Symphony has experienced a remarkable turnabout.  The symphony has benefited greatly from its affiliation with the highly-regarded CAPA.  Turning over administrative duties to CAPA saved the orchestra thousands of dollars, and since CAPA is an extremely well-run organization with competent, dedicated employees, the symphony is now well-managed. 

The list of successes that follows is pretty impressive: revitalized board; new donors and increased contributions; amicable negotiations and a new musicians’ contract signed six months early; balanced budget; terrific new music director; two new concert series; streaming of concerts; and increased goodwill among community members.

Two keys to the Columbus Symphony’s great outcomes seem to be: (1) CAPA (Bill Conner) appears to be providing very sound management and to be gaining the confidence and respect of musicians and community members alike; (2) liberating Roland Valliere to fulfill the new position of Chief Creative Officer appears to be liberating the Columbus Symphony to renew itself and become an inspired, dynamic, more responsive, and creative entity–what arts organizations often are when they are young and small, but which they sometimes cease to be as they become more institutionalized.

I was curious about this partnership between the Columbus Symphony and CAPA and so I followed the link to the CAPA Website, whose home page looked a lot like the home pages of any number or PACs in the country, filled with promo for upcoming shows. But when I clicked on “About Us” I found a link called “Shared Services.” I clicked through and this is what it says:

Shared services arrangements offer a streamlined ticket buying experience for patrons and season subscribers while allowing our partner arts organizations to focus on their missions and the artistic quality of their work. […] Services are personalized to fit each organization’s needs, and can include marketing, public relations, finance, human resources, IT, and development/fundraising. CAPA also provides shared ticketing services … production, booking and management services.

There is a long and impressive list of organizations with which CAPA works. I am not at all familiar with CAPA or any of these partnerships; but I gather from Betsy Sturdevant’s post that Columbus Symphony’s alliance with CAPA seems to be, just as CAPA suggests, allowing the orchestra to focus on its mission and programs.

This past week Anne Midgette wrote a post called  Looking for good news about orchestras in which  she asks “which orchestras are doing the best?” and answers with the Los Angeles Philharmonic, the Pacific Symphony, Orchestra of St. Luke’s, the New World Symphony, Orpheus, and Wordless Music. She comments that these organizations represent a different approach to playing the same kind of music and then lists a few things they all have in common: “smaller administrations, more flexible concert formats, and higher-than-usual job satisfaction from their musicians” She ends saying, “Don’t underestimate these factors as a key to success in the future.” It’s a great post. I concur wholeheartedly with Anne on her list of orchestras and factors of success.

From my vantage point, it seems that Columbus Symphony might be added to the ‘good news’ column for the orchestra field. To respond to a changing environment organizations need greater flexibility. Outsourcing administration and shared services may be wise tactics for institutions (midsized, in particular) with overbuilt capacity. Moreover, outsourcing admin may leave organizations hands- and minds-free to pursue mission. 

  Two postscripts:

  1. I wish to send thanks to all who posted or emailed me directly in response to last week’s minor rant on innovation. There were some terrific comments posted, which I encourage all to read.
  2. I want to send a shout out to David Zoltan (ArtsAppeal) and everyone that presented at TedXMichiganAve. I wish I could have seen you all live and I can’t wait to see the videos.

Cubes Union image by monarx3d licensed on Shutterstock.com.

The mad, mad chase for innovation in the arts

A few weeks back, I wrote in a post that I’m beginning to wonder whether the process of adapting to a changing environment has become harder for arts organizations than it needs to be because many arts funders seem to be fixated on the idea that future success will come only through ‘radical innovation’. I suggested that perhaps we could see some pretty great results through good-old-fashioned, common-sense, it’s-about-time, just-do-the-right-thing, ‘improvements’. I’m not suggesting that ‘innovation’ in the arts and culture sector should not be enabled or supported (it should). But I am skeptical of the funder-driven ‘innovation in the arts’ bandwagon. Here’s why:

First, once new ideas are funded within funder-led ‘innovation’ initiatives, they tend to get heralded (by the press, funders, and field experts) as ‘innovative’ before they have demonstrated that they are. As an example, the Dance Theater Workshop and Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Dance Company merger has been called ‘innovative’; but the idea to merge a dance company and a presenting organization is not, in and of itself, an ‘innovation’.

In the long run if this new hybrid organization proves to have a stronger and more sustainable business model, and if it is able to create new or greater value (for artists and audiences) than either organization could on its own–and if other organizaitons can learn from and replicate this success–then one might very well call such a development an ‘innovation’ for the arts and culture sector. The other possibility is that it represents the (pragmatic?) acquisition by one organization (that desperately wanted a permanent space) of another organization (that had a space and was desperate to have its debts eliminated).

Second, related to point one, the path to innovation is often paved with many (sometimes boring) small experiments, small successes, and small failures–in other words nothing that sounds very sexy on a grant application. Funding ideas that sound innovative is quite different from sustaining an organization’s ongoing capacity to learn, adapt, and innovate.  The ‘innovation grant’ seems to encourage organizations to dress up, scale up, or amplify otherwise well-conceived and feasible strategies for modest improvements, in order to make them seem more ‘radically innovative.’ 

Receiving the grant can not only destabilize an organization as it attempts to take on more than it can handle, but  can put extraordinary pressure on its new souped-up ‘innovation’ to succeed. More to the point, it can make it difficult to let go of the idea if it is not panning out as expected, particularly if it was heralded out of the gate as a potential ‘model’ for the field.

Third, it seems that funders have made innovation a priority under the misguided belief that ‘funding’ is what makes organizations able or inclined to innovate. Organizations (entrepreneurs) innovate because they are discontent with the status quo and feel compelled to find a new way forward. They innovate because they see something is missing in the world and feel compelled to create that thing. Innovative organizations do not need a two-week retreat at a spa, or a high-paid consultant, or a big carrot or stick from a  national funder, to encourage or enable them to innovate. Providing innovation-inducing ‘seed money’ to risk-averse institutions seems like a waste of precious grant dollars that might be better directed (in the form of multiyear general program support) to ‘naturally innovative’ organizations (if innovation is the end goal).

Finally, it’s perplexing and annoying to others in the arts sector when funders give ‘innovation grants’ to projects and organziations that are not, actually, innovative–particularly when one knows the projects that did NOT get funding. I’m not sure how this happens but I suspect it is in large part because ideas that are truly surprising, that may even defy written rules and conventions, are unlikely to make it all the way through the grantmaking process at most risk-averse foundations (in no small part because they make lawyers nervous).

All of this prompts me to ask:  Does innovation happen because one feels incentivized or mandated to innovate? Can one pursue innovation? Or is it a side-effect of … any number of things: having one’s organziational eyes wide open to a changing environment; having strong values but flexible practices; having vision and creativity; having the courage to see the truth and act; continually seeking to create greater value for your constituencies and develop new sustainable resource streams … for instance?

Eating Ideas image by Scott Maxwell / LuMaxArt, licensed from shutterstock.com.

A bankruptcy and a canceled season: inevitable or entirely avoidable ends?

Recently, the Philadelphia Orchestra announced it would be filing for chapter 11 bankruptcy protection (the reorganization variety) and Intiman Theatre in Seattle let go of its staff (including its artistic director) and canceled its season in an effort to get a handle on its operations and save itself from an imminent death. These announcements (on the heels of other similar announcements) prompt a few questions:

First, whenever I hear that an arts organization has had recurring deficits (often leading to the accumulation of excessively high debt), my first question is: does this organization’s trustees know how to read an audited financial statement and a cash flow statement? This is a sincere question. Just a few weeks ago the Intiman boad announced that it had (nearly) met its first fundraising goal and had hired Susan Trapnell to help the board and artistic director come up with a long term plan. Upon being hired, Trapnell evidently made the pretty quick (and astute) judgment that the short-term operational and fundraising plan that had been in place was not a viable one (hence the layoffs and canceled season).

I know Susan and have the utmost respect for her and faith in her abilities; but why did the Intiman board need to bring Susan in to tell it that its plan was unrealistic? The Intiman trustees are presumably smart people, some of whom even run businesses; couldn’t they tell by looking at the financial statements that $1 million was not going to be enough to keep the organization going given its debt-to-income ratio and cash flow projections? I mean, c’mon. Furthermore, you don’t need an MBA to know that if expenses are exceeding revenues year upon year that the business model is not sustainable and at some point the cash is going to run out.

Unless I’m missing something, it seems that this situation might have been addressed years ago (either through permanent closure or through a restructuring of the organization in order to bring expenses in line with revenues). If it had, then perhaps Intiman could have avoided laying off its entire staff and canceling its season on such short notice. It seems that the staff and artists that work with the Intiman, as well as subscribers, suppliers, and donors are the ones now paying for the fact that this situation was allowed to get so out of control.

Second, who are the winners and who are the losers when  a nonprofit organization files for bankruptcy? Another sincere question. I understand that there are serious consequences to declaring personal bankruptcy. But is this also the case when a corporation, and specifically a nonprofit corporation, declares bankruptcy? I ask because in the announcement the Philadelphia Orchestra sent to its donors bankruptcy protection seems like a mere speed bump on the way to brighter days. The letter actually strikes me as rather upbeat in tone, all things considered. I think it’s worth asking who or what benefits from this ‘strategy,’ as it’s been called; and who or what is harmed?

To be fair, the letter does talk about the causes of the $14.5 million structural deficit. The leadership writes: “Yet, let us be frank about the myriad factors contributing to the financial challenges we face. Our structural deficit has been created by a decline in ticket revenues, decreased donations, eroding endowment income, pension obligations, contractual agreements, and operational costs.” They then go on to ask their patrons to stick by them and contribute to the upcoming “Listen with Your Heart” campaign. I found myself reading the letter again, looking for a sentence in which the board and staff actually take responsibility for having, evidently, made some poor decisions over the years. It’s not in there.

And, OK, I’m just going to ask this: In the case of Syracuse Symphony, (and other debt-saddled arts organizations filing for Chapter 7 bankruptcy protection), I find myself wondering whether its filing has amounted to, in essence, a ‘get out of jail free card’? Especially with comments in the press that they don’t want to “burden” a future organization with “the current symphony’s debt, pension liability and musician contract”. Unless I misunderstand the comments in the papers, it seems to me that it may be the current board that does not want to be burdened with repaying the debts that accrued under its watch or to honor contractual agreements to which it agreed.

Again, I find myself wondering who are the winners and who are the losers in this scenario? I’m not saying that Syracuse Symphony and other organizations that have reached the point of no return should not close their doors. But there is another way to dissolve an organization: having responsibly paid all of one’s debts and obligations and having created a financial transition plan for the staff and musicians. Of course, for this to happen one must recognize that the end is coming and have the courage to close in time, when one can still do so gracefully.

Finally, is it just me, or is it concerning to anyone else that we have evolved our major cultural institutions to a point where they are so highly inflexible that in order to ‘downsize’ or ‘transform’ they must run themselves into the ground and then declare bankruptcy?  Or cancel their seasons and lay off their staffs? Again, I may misunderstand these situations. I only know what I’ve picked up from the press articles. I welcome enlightenment from others.

These events do not come as a surprise to me (or probably to most who have been following these organizations for any time). Evidently, these ends were a long time coming. In that sense, they might have been inevitable. However, the very fact that they were a long time coming leads to me think that these ends might also have been avoidable.

Image of keyboard with ??? instead of  ‘enter’ key by Fuzzbones licensed at Shutterstock.com.

Letting go of the lifestyle to which some arts groups have become accustomed

Syracuse Symphony, Detroit Symphony, and the New York City Opera have all been in the news this past week. To some degree these three organizations share a common circumstance: the conditions under which they were created and grew over time have changed and, in recent years, they have begun to experience difficulty sustaining their operations at the level to which they (and their stakeholders) have become accustomed. These organizations are not alone in their struggles.

Syracuse announced that it is filing for Chapter 7 bankruptcy because it is unable to pay off its debts; Detroit’s musicians have recently voted to end a six-month strike, accepting pay cuts necessitated by a deteriorating financial situation; and NYCO’s chairman has announced that it is struggling to pay off a $5 million deficit and will not announce its next season until it has a balanced 2011-2012 budget. 

There should be no shame for organizations that are coming down the mountain, so to speak—just as there should be no shame in having one’s net worth and lifestyle change dramatically through divorce, or from losing one’s assets or high-paying job due to the recession or retirement. However, people (and organizations) sometimes respond to challenging material circumstances either by being in denial about them (and continuing to spend money as if they still have it) or by being bitter towards the world because they no longer have all that they once had.

Thomas Friedman writes in The World is Flat, “when a company is the pioneer, the vanguard, the top dog, the crown jewel, it is hard to look in the mirror and tell itself it is in a not-so-quiet crisis and [that it] better start to make a new history or become history.” It is, indeed, a difficult reality that many arts organizations may not be able to sustain the level of operations (the programming output, the staff size, the employment terms and salary levels, the opulent buildings, the perks, etc.) to which they have become accustomed (in the short term or even in the longer term).

Many arts organizations have closed in the last few years. By-and-large these were not ‘planned sunsets’. Those that even recognized it was necessary to change (and I’m not sure many ever did), evidently did so too late in the game—after debts had mounted beyond the point of being managed, and goodwill had eroded beyond repair. In other words, after years of being unwilling to accept that circumstances had changed.

The sooner organizations can face their changed circumstances and make the necessary changes the more likely they are to have control over their destiny. And please know, ‘make the necessary changes’ is not my euphemism for ‘birth a radical innovation.’ In fact, lately I’m beginning to wonder whether the process of adapting to a changing environment has become harder than it needs to be because funders and others have become so fixated on the idea that future success will come only through ‘radical innovation’.

I’m not saying that innovations should not be enabled or pursued, but I have a hunch we could see some pretty great results through good-old-fashioned, common-sense, it’s-about-time, just-do-the-right-thing, ‘improvements’:

  • Arts organizations avoiding redundancy and, instead, seeking to provide what’s clearly missing in the cultural landscape in order to find a less competitive and more valuable niche;
  • Communities of organizations forming cooperative agreements for the use of space, or investments in shared technology, or other resources;
  • Complementary partnerships and alliances aimed at supporting the development, creation, presentation, and distribution of work, or providing stable sources of support for artists, or providing pathways for people to discover and experience the arts.

To name just a few.

And, oh yeah, all organizations living within their means—even if their means are diminishing—and doing so with grace.

End of the Paved Road image by Tom Grundy licensed from Shutterstock.com.

Nonprofits redistributing ‘surpluses’ to patrons?

Recently I came across an academic paper examining the relationship between performing arts organizations and their patrons that includes a description of a patron loyalty program developed by the Bach Choir of Bethlehem in the early twentieth century (Kushner and King, 1994).* BCB’s model is unlike any current model I have yet encountered (though this may be due to my lack of awareness not to a lack of similar models) and it strikes me as both simple and enlightened. Here’s my summary of the 1994 description of BCB’s model in the paper:

The BCB is a nonprofit organization that has been operating continuously since 1912. Its orchestra members are full-time professionals most of whom live in New York or Philadelphia and its choir is made up of volunteers. It has paid administrative staff. It presents an annual festival over multiple weekends. Its performance facility has just over 1,000 seats and is scaled. Since 1912 BCB has employed a system of “Guarantees” which give patrons the opportunity to book first and to choose seats according to the number of years they have supported BCB with an annual minimum pledge (in 1994 this was $50).  The average (mean) pledge has exceeded the minimum each year and no discounts are offered on ticket prices. The Guarantee pledge is made in advance of the Festival but is not payable until after the Festival. Importantly, Guarantors are not asked to pay the entire amount pledged, but are only “assessed” a percentage, which is based on the actual deficit resulting from the annual Festival operations. Approximately one third of the Guarantors opt to pay the full pledge amount rather than the lower assessment amount. The number of Guarantors who do not honor their commitment is negligible.

According to BCB’s Web site it still offers the Guarantee program and the Gurantor minimum pledge for 2010 is $125, or $50 for those under 35. I like many aspects of this model but the part I find particularly compelling is that by assessing Guarantors at an amount lower than they have pledged, BCB essentially ‘redistributes’ back to them any Guarantee surplus donations at the end of its season (as opposed to taking the opportunity to beef up the annual budget in order to make ‘good’ use of them). It’s clear that demand exceeding capacity (most years) has been a key to the success of this model for BCB.

However, I wonder if there is a way to modify this idea for a nonprofit arts organization facing the opposite problem: a tough-to-sell show. Could patrons that buy early and first be provided with an incentive to try to help fill seats to such shows by offering modest ‘consumer surplus rebates’ if a show that is not expected to sell out does better than anticipated? Imagine the following scenario on a show in which the producers have budgeted ticket revenues conservatively, at 50% capacity:

You reserve a top-tier ticket to a show for which the house is scaled and the prices are listed as $30, $42, $58, $75; your credit card number is taken but your card is not charged at the time of purchase. Instead, you are told that the organization will charge you the day after the performance and that the organization will reward you with a lower price as more tickets are sold to the performance. It also provides you with an easy method for alerting friends that you have bought tickets for a particular night and encouraging them to do the same.

For instance, if the performance reaches 62% capacity, your $75 ticket drops to $71.25; at 75% capacity it drops to $67.50; at 87% capacity it drops to $63.75 and at 100% capacity it drops to $60.  At each level, the ‘new’ ticket price would be extended to all new purchasers of a ticket in the ‘$75’ section.

With tough-to-sell shows those that buy early are often ‘penalized’ as they end up paying a higher price than those that buy later (who are able to find a discounted ticket). But with this BCB-inspired model, the more tickets that are sold the more everyone benefits (including the organization, which earns more than it would if tickets capped out at 50% as projected). The model assumes that those who buy early are the most enthused about the show and thus most willing to pay more initially and most willing to help spread the word to others if given some tools, encouragement, and incentives to do so. 

No doubt some are thinking, “But if the tough-to-sell show gets a positive review and starts to take off at the box office, just at the point when the organization could have been pocketing some significant surpluses (by employing dynamic pricing, for instance, and increasing prices in response to increased demand), it would be lowering prices and leaving money on the table – that makes no sense!” It makes no sense if one’s only motive is to maximize profits. But perhaps it’s not entirely lunatic if one’s primary motive is to create greater social value and develop a loyal, invested, fan base.

There may be many reasons why this particular idea would not work. Nonetheless, I am compelled by the concept of, in essence, ‘redistributing surpluses’ back to those patrons that regularly jump in feet first. It strikes me as a way of conveying to them that they are viewed as genuine partners (and thus worthy of sharing in rewards as well as risks) and not simply reliable sources of cash.

Image of hand with cash by Mikeledray licensed from Shutterstock.com.

* Kushner, Roland and King, Arthur E. (1994) “Performing Arts as a Club Good: Evidence from a Nonprofit Organization”, Journal of Cultural Economics, 18: 15-28.

We gather here today to … wait, why are we here?

It’s that time of year–the arrival of the annual spring/summer lineup of conferences hosted by the national service organizations in the arts and culture sector. Many will soon be filing into Ballroom D at the end of the Hutchinson Concourse on the Mezzanine Level of some Conference Center/Hotel to hear leading field practitioners share their insights on Innovation in the Arts Sector. Those not in Ballroom D will be hiding out in the bar socializing, having informal discussions, and networking (also known as ‘having a good conference’).

I’ve been attending the annual conferences of national, regional and local arts service organizations in the US for nearly 20 years. I think we’re overdue to turn the arts conference format on its head. In 2010 I was sitting on a dais speaking on a panel at an arts conference and the following thought popped into my head (right before I gave my two-cents on, as I recall, ‘technology and the arts’):

Any one of those sitting in the chairs facing this dais could be up here speaking on this topic. Why are four of us on the dais and the rest sitting in chairs facing us? Instead, we need a room with some coffee or beer and a bunch of couches and chairs and the opportunity for a long chat.

Increasingly, it seems that we’re all absorbing the same tweets, blogs,YouTube videos, TED talks, audio interviews, articles, and reports, and that anything that is truly interesting hits the Internet and spreads to the field quickly. We come to these annual conferences primed and ready to discuss.

There are, of course, alternatives to what has come to be the ‘traditional’ conference format–for instance, Open Space Technology meetings and unconferences in which the agenda or topics for discussion are not determined by the organizers but are determined by the participants. Arena Stage uses a closed fishbowl format (a circle of discussants surrounded by a circle of listeners, with people moving in and out of the inner circle over the course of a few days). At the Scarcity to Abundance convening that I attended in January I noticed that this format had the effect of flattening hierarchies among participants, democratizing the conversation, and enabling everyone that spoke to be ‘heard’.

The TED format seems to be the major innovation in meeting formats of the past decade. I’m a fan of the talks and watch them online all the time but I’ve never been to a TED conference. I suspect, however, that it’s not the right format for the national arts service organization conferences. Unless we invited people who are not working in the arts to speak to us, it seems that there would be a lot of repetition in the talks. TED conferences are interesting because of the intentional diversity of them–the variety of fields, cultures, subjects, points of view, styles, and modes of thinking represented by the speakers. We all use the same jargon at arts conferences and all have (virtually) the same story to tell.

Many sessions at these annual arts conferences currently feature practitioners or consultants or others presenting findings from research or outcomes from new (often described as ‘innovative’) practices they have tried. But now such dissemination of data and experiences could happen just as easily via a Webinar. The NEA released three new reports via Webinar a few weeks back and it was highly effective, as well as time- and energy-efficient.

It seems that technology has made redundant much of the purpose of the annual arts conference and that the yearly gathering of the field (if there is still a reason to have one) needs to be transformed. I’m not suggesting there is not a reason for everyone to get on a plane and fly across the country to hang out; but I am suggesting that the purpose (and thus the structure of the event) might need to be radically different from the corporate-style, top-down, sit-and-learn-from-the-leaders-in-your-field conferences to which we’ve all become indoctrinated.

People sometimes wander the halls of these conferences sighing and saying, “It’s the same conversation we’ve been having for 5, 10, 15, 20 years.” I’ve long thought that this was because the same people have been sitting in the room year after year ‘leading’ the conversation. But perhaps it’s also something about the structure of these events? If form dictates content, perhaps if we blew up the traditional conference format and got some new people in the room talking to each other we would succeed in moving the field conversation forward, as well?

Interior of Modern Conference image by ariadna de raadt licensed from Shutterstock.com.

sector transformation, unlikely to be kind or gentle

In 2008, Paul Light (professor of public service at NYU and author of numerous books) wrote an article for the Nonprofit Quarterly in which he speculated on Four Futures for the nonprofit sector arising out of the recession: (1) Rescue Fantasy: nonprofits saved by significant increases in contributions; (2) Withering Winterland: organizations starve themselves into a weakened organizational state; (3) Arbitrary Winnowing: survival of the largest, oldest, and best connected; and (4) Transformation: a redesign of the sector that leaves it stronger, more vibrant, more sustainable, and more impactful. Light wrote:

“The nonprofit sector can always let the future take its course … but in doing so, it would almost surely experience either the withering of organizations that comes from inaction or a random winnowing based on influence and ready cash, not performance. It can reap the benefits of transformation only by deliberate choice.”

Dr. Light’s prediction appears to be panning out; across the nonprofit arts sector we have by-and-large witnessed a winnowing and a withering the past couple years. For all the jabbering about transformation, we don’t (yet) appear to be manifesting it.

I’ve been reading essays by the economist Joseph Schumpeter who identified innovation as a critical dimension of economic change and emphasized the importance of the ‘new firm’ and the ‘new entrepreneur’ as the vehicles for innovation. He also popularized the term ‘creative destruction’ in economics – a term derived from Marxist economic theory, which Schumpeter used to represent the destroying of old economic structures in order to create new ones.

In the arts and culture sector we seem to want to reap the benefits of transformation without the process of creative destruction. We say we want transformation but we refuse to let underperforming organizations die, or shy away from de-funding what has always been funded in order to fund that which has never been funded, or desperately try to maintain an overbuilt infrastructure. Such reactionary impulses to preserve the status quo will not result in a kinder and gentler transformation. To the contrary, they may result in stagnation of the arts and culture sector. As Light says, we can let the future take its course. I fear, however, that if we do so we may regret what we have become in years to come.

In 1968, the sociologist Robert K. Merton coined the term the Matthew Effect (in sociology) to describe the propensity for those who already possess power or capital to leverage those resources to gain more power or capital; the term comes from the bible passage Matthew 25:29: “For to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away.”  (NRS version)

Is arbitrary winnowing the future we want? With more being given to those who already have the most? Survival of (only) the oldest, largest, and best connected, and not necessarily the best performing? 

If not, if we are sincere about wanting transformation, then the gain of progress is unlikely to be accomplished without the pain of losing or challenging some longstanding industry structures, beliefs, practices, jobs, conventions, and hierarchies.

No pain no gain image by Andy Dean Photography licensed on Shutterstock.com.

Arts Ed: An opportunity for arts nonprofits to create shared value?

A new acquaintance recently recommended the Jan-Feb 2011 HBR article, “Creating Shared Value“ by Michael E. Porter and Mark R. Kramer. The authors define the concept of shared value as “policies and operating practices that enhance the competitiveness of a company while simultaneously advancing the economic and social conditions in the communities in which it operates.”

The article, which is compelling, gives several examples of policies and practices that create shared value, including: food companies traditionally focused on taste and quantity refocusing on the fundamental need for better nutrition; firms focused on holding down wage levels and reducing benefits refocusing on the positive effects that a living wage, safety, and wellness programs can have on employee productivity; and firms re-conceiving products to serve disadvantaged communities and by doing so developing robust new markets. One of the recurring ideas of Porter and Kramer is that companies need to shift the short-term/zero-sum mindset that investing in ‘doing good’ will harm profits. The authors posit that companies that refocus on creating societal and economic value, in the long term, can generate increased profits.

It strikes me that arts nonprofits may have a similar short-term/zero-sum mindset when it comes to investments in arts education: because such investments don’t pay off in immediate returns at the box office, and may siphon resources away from other areas, many will not invest in arts ed, or will invest only in response to incentives, when dedicated funding is available (and available only for that purpose). Moreover, those arts education departments and programs that are created (even with dedicated funding) often seem to receive insuficient organizational attention and resources.  

On Twitter a few days ago, someone referred to education in arts organizations as the ‘tail wagging the dog.’ I wonder if this idea stems from another issue–the sector having at once too liberal and too narrow a conception of what it means to exist for ‘charitable and educational’ purposes? On the one hand we posit that our educational purposes are fulfilled simply by putting on shows or exhibits and creating program notes; on the other, when we decide to invest in ‘education’ programs, they often end up being limited to two types of activity: kids at craft tables or adults listening to erudite lectures.

One of the definitions of education provided by Wikipedia is ‘the act or process of imparting or acquiring particular knowledge or skills’. There seems to exist a far greater range of knowledge and skills and means of imparting and acquiring them than arts nonprofits are currently embracing. Given the newly published NEA report indicating a significant correlation between taking an arts course and adult participation, increased demand for arts education and participation activities (noted by the National Arts Index), and the dearth of such activities for some members of society, there would seem to be tremendous opportunity for nonprofit arts groups to respond to this societal need.

As I suggested a couple weeks ago, it does not seem unreasonable to think that addressing this societal need could provide new (earned and contributed) revenue streams for arts organizations, and (in the long term) increase interest in performances, exhibitions, etc. In my previous post on the subject I suggested arts/ed hybrids as a possible solution– but by no means do I think this is the only or best path forward. What does seem clear, however, is that arts organizations that want to pursue this path need to take the role seriously and invest accordingly.

If doing so seems to be at odds with a mission ‘to produce excellent shows’ then why not consider a dual mission and add the statement ‘and to help members of our community gain the knowledge and skills necessary to have an expressive life’ (thanks Bill Ivey)?

I often hear organizations protest that arts education is the role of government, not arts nonprofits. Perhaps, but nonprofits were created to fill societal needs that government either cannot fill, or chooses not to fill. Who better than nonprofit arts groups to step in and invest in developing quality resources to meet the societal need—and if Porter and Kramer are right—to potentially strengthen themselves while doing so? The Joffrey Ballet’s investments in dance classes for the public, which yielded significant returns to the organizations strikes me as a great example of this. And there are many more, including Elizabeth Streb’s Trapeze Academy, (which I’ve mentioned before), Chicago Symphony Orchestra’s Beyond the Score programs, and  the Metropolitan Opera’s Live in HD broadcasts and ancillary programs. To my mind, these organizations are creating ‘shared value’.

Image of TMobile Do-Re-Mi Flash Mob at Antwerp Central Station.

Which nonprofit arts orgs deserve these pennies?

In response to last week’s post, Leonard Jacobs posted a thoughtful essay at The Clyde Fitch Report in which he made many excellent points–many of them fair criticisms of my post. I cannot adequately address all of Jacobs’ points in this post, but I hope to address a few while expounding upon some of my previous comments.

In my first post, I was endeavoring to both (1) discuss perceptions of the current threats to funding (which Jacobs rightly says are not ‘attacks’ in the sense of the culture wars) and (2) make the assertion that the current case for cutting support for the arts seems to rest on behaviors of organizations that are often held up as leaders but that, to my mind, do not exemplify the highest principles or the best (or even most common) practices of our field. Here’s are some further thoughts, specifically on responses to the proposed cuts:

(1)   I believe the percentage of the population that is actually hostile to the arts (philistines, if you will) is relatively small (at least I hope so; perhaps I am naive on this matter?). Furthermore, because I’m not persuaded that rhetoric will change their minds, I think advocacy efforts are better focused elsewhere. I’m not proposing to do away with advocacy as Jacob’s construed from my previous comments. There’s no danger in continuing to hone and strengthen the case for the merits of the arts. However, as I’ve said before, if the arts actually mattered more, to more people, then perhaps their value would be self evident and advocates wouldn’t need to work so hard to defend funding for them.

(2) Jacobs and others seem to take the view that the threats are largely political and symbolic. I tend to agree. Some that would cut arts funding believe big government is bad and it should be reduced or eliminated across many areas; others that government support and intervention in some areas is justifiable but the ‘arts’ do not merit such subsidies because they largely benefit those that could pay anyway (the very wealthy and the upper middle class). In either case, since ‘the arts’ matter to a small percentage of their constituencies anyway, the recession offers a good opportunity for politicians to put forward cuts to the arts (which, conveniently, most people seem to equate with ‘the fine arts’ and ‘snooty organiations with expensive tickets’).

So what about that new report from the NEA (to be posted on Feb 28th) that Jacobs mentioned, which indicates much higher participation levels than previously reported? Importantly, these expanded participation rates are due to an expanded definition of participation from one limited to ‘attendance’ to one including (as I recall from the Webinar last week) media related participation and amateur/hands-on participation. In other words, it appears that a lot of the ‘participation’ unearthed by this new report may be happening outside of the nonprofit arts ‘establishment’.

(3)  The final point I was endeavoring to make in my last post is that perhaps there would not be a general perception that the arts primarily serve those who could pay for them anyway if the sector itself did not hold up as ‘exemplars’ those organizations that are elitist, exclusive, wealthy, and extravagant.   

I get that many such organizations exhibit qualities that are often associated with ‘leadership’: they are the largest firms; they have been around the longest and have staying power; they have high profiles and clear brands; they often do very high quality work; they are powerful and able to attract talent; they bring prestige to their cities and people often feel civic pride about their presence; and they are highly professionalized and institutionalized operations (no artsy flakiness in these shops). In other words, they exude qualities that one associates with being at the top of the corporate heap.

These may be qualities of leadership by corporate or commercial standards, but are these the right metrics for leadership in a nonprofit context?  Where and how do we account for leadership in the sense of being the best at pursuing and achieving charitable and educational ends?

I observe many organizations that are doing work that lives up to (what I would consider to be)  ‘nonprofit’ ideals. Generally, they seem to be undervalued and underfunded. I am, thus, troubled that a significant portion of the contributed resources going into the nonprofit arts and culture sector is (and has been for years) directed to organizations that seem to want (in principle) to behave like either country clubs or commericial entities.

Which leads to my question: Does it (should it) mean something different to be a ‘leading arts institution’ vs. a ‘leading nonprofit arts institution’? Is it time to question a  hierarchy that puts (in perpetuity), for example, the Lyric Opera of Chicago above Chicago Opera Theater; or Roundabout Theatre Company above the Foundry Theater? As I said last week, perhaps we need to re-think what constitutes leadership in the nonprofit arts sector. If we’re not sure anymore, perhaps it’s time to figure this out.

Switching gears a bit: I understand from Scott Walters’ post on his recent visit to the NEA, that we in blog- and tweet-land have ruffled feathers by daring to question the establishment. I want to express my respect and thanks to Scott for having the courage to speak candidly both at the meeting and in his follow-up post. I’m glad he was in the room. I also LOVE his most recent post on ‘excellence‘.

PS: Thanks for the essay, Mr. Jacobs. I appreciate your consideration of my post and the thoughtful feedback. I may  pick up on the pricing thread next week … Yrs, DER

Image of Please Help Penny Jar by Aron Hsiao, licensed from Shutterstock.com.

Perhaps we need to rethink which nonprofit arts groups are considered leaders in their fields?

Many have written in the past week on the pending and proposed eliminations of the Kansas, Texas, and South Carolina state arts agencies (among others). For a roundup of the news on this front I recommend this post on Createquity. Some see these attacks as yet another sign that the country is filled with philistines, some see them as symbolic or purely political, and others as the reasonable end of decades of disregard by arts organizations of their communities-at-large.

The arts (which in the minds of most people equates with ‘the fine arts’) are clearly not everyone’s cup of tea (and no amount of rhetoric will probably change this); having said this, it would be shortsighted to dismiss current attacks as being driven primarily by barbarians. Many politicians evidently perceive that they can safely target the arts for cuts on the basis of their being exclusive, elitist, extravagant, or wealthy (and suggest that taxes and subsidies would be better directed elsewhere) because the arts often serve and are defended by a relatively small percentage of their constituencies. Furthermore, and rather unfortunately,these arguments against the arts are not just political rhethoric; they are reasonable accusations that can be plausibly lobbed at more than a few so-called ‘flagship’ nonprofit arts groups.

Candidly, I find it increasingly difficult to defend why a nonprofit theater company (even, and especially, outside of NYC) needs to charge $100+ for its tickets, or why a nonprofit opera company needs to charge nearly twice as much, if not more. I’ll save for another day my thoughts on the downsides of coupling the price of admission and the value of the arts experience in the minds of consumers, but for now suffice it to say I agree with those who have expressed the opinion that lowering ticket prices (or otherwise reducing financial barriers) is the number one change that many flagship, fine arts groups need to make–both to demonstrate that they are earnest about being ‘inclusive’ and to increase attendance.

Secondly, for decade upon decade, many arts organizations have essentially paid lipservice to their educational missions, despite the fact that many people do not have meaningful exposure to the arts growing up and there is research that suggests that such exposure is linked to adult participation. (It seems that it would be in the best interest of arts groups to take their educational missions more seriously.) Nonetheless, I recognize that, in particular, hands-on participation activities are not (today) a core competency of many arts groups (although one might posit that over the next 10 years they will need to become so).

Given research demonstrating a link between hands-on participation and attendance, what if (over the next five years) 30 percent of all nonprofit arts organizations were (voluntarily) re-engineered as arts education hybrids, specifically designed to provide sustained adult and youth arts participation activities as their primary, if not exclusive, purpose? Perhaps doing so would (1) be a more effective method (than current practices by arts groups) for broadening and deepening engagement with the arts; (2) eventually lead to an increase in attendance and enjoyment by people at traditional organizations whose primary purpose is to produce or present great exhibitions and performances; and (3) in the short term, bring new revenues into the sector and reduce competition for audiences and resources?

Finally, at a time when many Americans do not have jobs, cannot pay their mortgages, and cannot afford other essentials it’s easy to pin adjectives like extravagant and wealthy on the arts when they continue to show up in the news under headlines such as these: (1) leading organization needs bailout (again); (2) leading organization breaks ground on fancy new building despite recession; (3) leading arts group unable to afford fancy new building built five years ago; (4) leading organization announces high-priced, celebrity-studded show or gala that is guaranteed to sell out; (5) executive of leading arts group making in the ‘high six figures’ takes 10 percent cut in pay due to recession; (6) leading arts group closes its doors after years of accumulated deficits, mounting debts, financial mismanagement, overspending, and poor board oversight. Headlines like these corroborate the perception that arts organizations do not merit subsidies because they are already wealthy or spend more than is necessary, wise, or justifiable.

The large majority of organizations are not exclusive, elitist, extravagant, and wealthy; but those that are, particularly when they are heralded as ‘leaders’, give the nonprofit arts sector a bad rap. Perhaps organizations that would prefer to target and price their performances exclusively to the upper middle class, who believe that the arts primarily exist to serve the highly educated cultural elite, who are not interested in fulfilling their educational and charitable missions, or who lack the will or discipline to exercise fiscal moderation, should be restructured as private, for-profit, membership-based clubs?

Or if that’s a preposterous idea, at the very least it may be time to question whether such organizations should continue to be lauded as exemplars of the nonprofit arts realm? Perhaps we need a new conception of what constitutes a ‘leading’ nonprofit arts organization in the 21st century? It may be time to set the public record straight.

Image of fallen chess king by Herbert Kratky, licensed at Shutterstock.com.

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