Jumper

Diane Ragsdale on what the arts do and why

What are we incubating and to what end?

A couple weeks back Thomas Cott published an issue of “You’ve Cott Mail” centered loosely on the theme of innovation and business incubators in the arts world, in which he linked to a post by one of my favorite bloggers/researchers/thinkers, Devon Smith. Devon contrasted the concept of ‘incubator’ in the tech world and the arts world. After reading her post I was curious to read up on technology and business incubators and ask myself what, exactly, arts incubators are incubating and to what end?

Devon makes the point that in the tech world it is ‘demo or die’ and that, in contrast, many arts incubators tend to be about process without the expectation of a deliverable on a certain time frame. Devon characterizes it as ‘we’re here to support you in however much you get accomplished for however long you are here’. Beyond the expectation to ‘demo or die’, however, there’s something else I learned in my reading: business incubators, philosophically and practically speaking, perceive themselves to be incubating the entire enterprise. At the end of 33 months (the average amount of time spent in a business incubator) it is expected that the startup can leave the nest with a viable business model and product and fly on its own.

How do these business incubators develop the whole enterprise? Devon talks about this in her post, as well, but I found a couple things particularly interesting. First, while they don’t necessarily provide venture capital, business incubators often serve as brokers and introduce entrepreneurs to venture capitalists, other successful entrepreneurs, or people that have knowledge and skills needed by the startup. Second, a successful tech incubator will provide access to high-end technology, as well as high-level marketing support, comprehensive adminstrative support, and hands-on business planning.

After reading about business incubators it struck me that it seems important to distinguish the purpose of an ‘incubator’ from (1) a one-to-three week ‘workshop’ or ‘residency’, which is meant to give an artist time to further develop a particular project and (2) ‘access to affordable office space, basic equipment, and business classes’ — which seem to be common types of support offered to artists and arts companies. These are not without value; but I would suggest that (particularly when provided by separate hosts) they do not an incubator make, if ‘incubation’ suggests a range of support and services aimed at making a venture viable and launching it into the world with a greater chance at success.

Devon suggests that art incubators seem to be reluctant to hold the groups they are incuabting accountable for success beyond a ‘good process’ and hypothesizes that perhaps arts incubators are ‘too nice, too forgiving’. I wonder whether the laissez faire nature of many arts incubators is a symptom of two things. (1) The rejection for the past 100 plus years of the notion that great art works can be born of a ‘shared vision’ between patron/investor and artist. (2) The widespread belief in the ‘fine arts world’ that ‘being truly artistic, excellent and innovative’ and ‘keeping an eye to the market with the goal of eventually selling the work to a mainstream audience’ are mutually exclusive endeavors.

Yes, it’s important to distinguish between the processes that best support the making or preservation of culture and those that best support its exploitation. But distinguishing between these two processes does not suggest that the two cannot coexist or that we should necessarily reject the latter as a goal if we care about the former.

What is the goal of a successful arts incubator? What should it be? Is it wrong to think that it should be not only about improving the quality of the work but also about discovering avenues by which to exploit it (i.e. derive full value from it) in the marketplace?

 

 

 

 

50+ years of backing away from the hazardous ledge of imagination

Last week the NEA announced a round of 34 grants totaling $11.5 million as part of a new program, ArtPlace, which aims to integrate artists and arts groups into local efforts in transportation, housing, community development and job creation as an important tool of economic recovery. ArtPlace is a joint-initiative of the NEA and a consortium of foundations, corporations and federal agencies. Luis A. Ubiñas, president of the Ford Foundation and chairman of the ArtPlace Presidents’ Council, is quoted saying: “The arts are inherently valuable, and they’re also part of what’s going to get us out of this economic problem we’re in.”

I must admit I winced as I read this quote. The nod to the inherent value of the arts seems somewhat insincere nuzzled as closely as it is to the rather bold statement that the arts are going to save us from our economic woes. On a whim, I pulled from the shelf my copy of the W. McNeil (Mac) Lowry edited book, The Performing Arts And American Society. Lowry was the much revered grants officer at the Ford Foundation. As director of the arts and humanities program (starting in 1957) Lowry recommended massive infusions of capital into the cultural sector over a period of approximately twenty years.  On p. 5 he lays out the ten claims, as he calls them, that were being made for the arts in American society in the 1950s: “The arts were said to be:

  1. Important to the image of the American society abroad.
  2. A means of communication and consequently of understanding between this country and others.
  3. An expression of national purpose.
  4. An important influence in the liberal education of the individual.
  5. An important key to an American’s understanding of himself, his times, and his destiny.
  6. A purposeful occupation for youth.
  7. In their institutional form, vital to the social, moral, an educational resources of an American community.
  8. Therefore good for business, especially in the new centers of population.
  9. Components for strengthening moral and spiritual bastions in a people whose national security might be threatened.
  10. An offset to the materialism of a generally affluent society.”

At the end of the list Lowry remarks,

Note that the arguments advanced for the arts in the fifties almost totally accept their role as a means to some other end. It is equally noteworthy that many of the proponents of these claims were busy translating their interest in the arts into buildings, a rash of cultural centers across the country. The so-called ‘cultural explosion’ of the fifties and sixties was in great part promotional.

Indeed, when you think about what was going on in the world in the mid-twentieth century and read this list it’s quite clear that the arts were being promoted as a symbol of freedom and capitalism and democracy.

Later in his book (p. 206) he writes,

At [a] philosophical and moral level, we must deal with what remains of the Puritan dilemma in American history—the ideal versus the useful, the sacral versus the materialistic. Though we are more than three centuries beyond Plymouth and the Massachusetts Bay Colony, how strongly does this influence persist? Or is it largely our historical consciousness of a stereotype that makes us wonder whether the public accepts artists or their creations only as instruments to educational and social ends? Who needs them?

And (on p. 181) in a section sub-titled The Hazard of Imagination:

The metaphysic of intellectual and moral energy is no simple matter. The human imagination, poetic or scientific, has few limits. It is impossible, and once one might have thought it undesirable, to try to control either. Imagination—lyrical, artistic, or mechanical — is the mortal enemy of habit and routine. Anything  threatening habit or routine, those relatively safe paths by which we endure to survive our hazards of accident or circumstance, causes suspicion and fear in various kinds of degrees. The scientist, since he or she is associated with metrics which impinge upon the necessity of maintaining breath and blood, is always protected and supported more than poets or artists whose imaginativeness, invention, or fantasy are both unmeasured and immediately unmeasurable.

Economic impact arguments may fail to fortify the footing of the arts in society in any meaningful or sustainable way; but by George, they sure do succeed in talking us back from the hazardous ledge of imagination, invention, and fantasy (oh my!).

And thus, over the past 2-3 decades, in the absence of good metrics for assessing the value of our distinctive qualities and in the midst of one economic crisis after another, we have increasingly defaulted to economic impact arguments to make the case for the arts. Even in this so-called ‘creative economy’ it seems it’s not actual artistic invention that is valued; rather, the arts are valued for symbolizing and signaling the trendy variety of ‘creativity’ that is perceived to lead to economic regeneration and that cities, regions, and industry so desperately want to coin.*

Is it worth noting that the inherent value of the arts is no more easily measured in France than in the US?

But, of course, they do have something the US doesn’t have. Among other interpretations, Mr. Lowry’s book (written in 1977) can be read as a plea for the articulation of a cultural policy. Absent a cultural policy (as we remain nearly 35 years later) we are left to induce the purpose or role of the arts in US society from the nature of grants made (or initiatives supported) by the NEA and the public statements issued about them.

PS: Those who have been following this blog since I started it last November will know that I am not a fan of the economic impact defense. (See my first two posts on this blog here, and here for some thoughts on the topic.)

20 Sep 2011 amendment to this post: Carol Coletta has clarified that “ArtPlace is not a program of the NEA”. My sincere apologies for misconstruing it as such.

* For more on this topic see Chris Bilton (2006), Management and Creativity, pp. 158-66.

 

Works-in-process in an everyone-is-a-critic-now world.

If inviting general audiences into the artistic process now means potentially inviting them to share their feedback with the world does this change how we think about presenting works-in-development for public audiences?

Perhaps I have a skewed perception, but it strikes me that over the past couple decades (at least in the US) arts organizations have increasingly presented half- or nearly-baked works to the public and (in many cases) charged them money for the privilege of seeing this work. For a variety of reasons, we have invited patrons into the process and have sold them on the idea that (1) this will increase their knowledge and understanding of an artform or (2) their presence and feedback will be valuable to the creators.

It is perhaps worth questioning whether we are sincere when we say these things and under what conditions these statements are true.

A related phenomenon: sometimes we haven’t invited patrons into the process as much as thrust it upon them. Sometimes works ‘in development’ are not advertised as such; they are rather deceptively called ‘previews’ or ‘world premieres’. By this I mean (for example) preview periods which producers or artists use to make significant changes to a piece, or works that are essentially being developed in performance at one or more venues on their way to New York (though being sold to audiences as if they were finished).

Recently there has been a good deal of chatter and discussion about the impact of amateur critics or passionate patrons (and recently a professional critic or two) blogging or tweeting reviews or comments on works ‘in development’ or shows ‘in preview’. In general it seems these have been seen by artists and producers as breaches of trust. But given the growing power and influence of consumers, and given that we have welcomed them in and charged them money and promoted the importance of their presence and opinions, is it any wonder that they now want (or feel entitled or even encouraged) to blog about their experiences?

While some may wish that we could enter into ‘contracts’ with patrons and require them to respect the artistic process and hold their tongues, this strikes me as impractical, unenforceable, and potentially destructive to relationships with patrons. Here are some other options, posed as (quite sincere) questions:

  • Do we need to do away with works-in process for the general public and simply present work that is finished and ready for review?
  • If we do works-in-process, do we need to be much more honest and explicit with audiences about our reasons for doing them and what we consider their role to be (or not to be)? (We might start by figuring this out for ourselves.)
  • Is it possible that if a work-in-process gets a dig by a patron or amateur critic that readers are astute enough to know that the piece is still being rehearsed and will wait to form their opinions on whether or not to attend?
  • Is it possible that if a blogger writes a piece dismissing a work in its development he or she may return and write again about the evolution of the piece and that this story might be more interesting than simply hearing about the finished product?
  • Is it possible that any conversation about a work (negative or positive) is better than no conversation at all and will likely make people more inclined to see the piece?
  • Is it possible that among the opinions expressed by passionate patrons and amateur critics about works-in-process that we might actually find some valuable insights?

One final question regarding works-in-process that are disguised as ‘previews’ and ‘world premieres’: putting aside for the present moment the (perhaps quite legitimate) reasons why such things occur, we might ask ourselves whether a public performance that is being used to make major changes to an artistic work should be called something else.

Dress Rehearsal, perhaps?

 

But What Does Barry’s List Mean?

So Barry’s Blog posted its annual Top 25 Most Powerful and Influential Leaders in the Nonprofit Arts list last week. In years’ past I would see this list and bemoan the fact that it seemed to be dominated by funders. I never said anything because I thought it would probably come across as sour grapes since I was, at the time, a funder (but not one that made the list).  As it turns out, this year I squeaked onto the list … barely. And so (with this new found and, no doubt, short-lived position of influence) I have decided to raise the question:

What are we to make of this list and who is on it?

One point of clarification: my aim is not to debate the merits of individuals on the list. My concern is with the overall makeup of the list. I attempted to raise this issue by commenting on Barry’s post last week. Here’s an edited version of what I wrote, building on a comment by Rachel who noted the absence of arts organization leaders beyond Michael Kaiser:

Where are the amazing managing and executive directors of arts organizations on this list? For that matter, where are the artists and artistic directors? I find myself troubled by the fact that this list is so dominated by funders, bloggers (like me), policy wonks, and people running intermediary organizations – despite the fact that some of these people are friends and many are people I deeply respect. Even when I worked at a foundation I thought that it was not such a great thing that so many funders show up on this list each year.

Barry gave a thoughtful response in which he clarified (rightly so) that his list was about arts administration and organizational leadership, and that artists did not appear on the list because nominators were asked not to recommend artists. He also noted that while there were countless things about the sector that troubled him the fact that the list was dominated by funders and policy types was not one of them. Another commenter (following mine) asserted that we need the ‘wonks’ and encouraged them to ‘wonk on’.

These are all valid points. I deny neither the need for policymakers, or funders, or service organizations nor their importance as entities that (often, at least ideally) have both the benefit of a systems perspective on the field and the ability to intervene and have positive impact. They are powerful and influential; and some of them should be on the list.

But I would argue that we should not be content that among the 44-ish people that appear to represent the top 25 and those ‘bubbling under’ only one (Michael Kaiser) actually runs or works in a nonprofit arts institution (that is not related primarily to arts education). Notably, Barry agreed (with Rachel’s point) and said he thought there were “any number of exemplary leaders of performing arts organizations that not only could be, but really ought to be on this list.”

Believe me, I fully understand why the list is constituted as it is. But it suggests a power/influence imbalance in our sector that one-third or one-half of the list is not made up of leaders within arts organizations (and by ‘leaders’ I do not mean to imply ‘directors’) and particularly artistic leaders (yes, being influential and powerful in such areas as arts administration, funding, advocacy, and organizational leadership). As I also wrote in my comment on Barry’s Blog:

If this were the 1960s or 70s W. McNeil (Mac) Lowry at the Ford Foundation would no doubt have been on the list, but so would have been Zelda Fichandler (founding artistic director of Arena Stage), Joe Papp (at the Public) and several other artistic/producing directors (and that’s just the theater).

Robert (Bob) Brustein, founder of Yale Repertory Theatre and American Repertory Theatre (ART) at Harvard University has written (I believe) 16 books on theatre and society over the past three decades or so—the majority of those while he was serving as a director at ART. Regardless of whether one embraces his viewpoints, one cannot deny that the theater world is better off because he was actively contributing to the conversation on such topics as the role of theater in society and what systems (including management, financial, political) support or hinder the making of art. He was not at all hesitant to challenge the decisions of policymakers, funders, and others. In 2000 he contributed an essay to a great book, The Politics of Culture, (G. Bradford, M. Gary, and G. Wallach eds.) entitled “Coercive Philanthropy.” The title (rather wonderfully) speaks for itself.

We are not having an enlightened dialogue about the current state or imagined future of the arts if among the 25 (or 44?) most powerful people thinking about the systems for funding, managing, and administrating arts institutions (again, excluding the arts education subset of the list, which seems to have achieved a better ‘balance’) none are artistic directors, or artistic staff, or artists.

Cynically, I wonder whether artists (etc.) would end up on the list even if Barry removed the rule that excludes them from being nominated. I say this not because we don’t have another generation or two of Roberts, Zeldas, and Joes working in the arts and culture sector (please forgive the theater bias; it’s the history I know best), but because I don’t trust they’d get nominated.

Barry writes in the introduction to the list:

Like every other field or profession, there are those in the nonprofit arts who are powerful and influential. To pretend that any world (ours included) is not stratified, tiered, territorial and subject to politics and disproportionately controlled by an oligarchy at the top is naïve. I believe the people who work in our field are passionate and motivated and seek the higher good, but I also recognize that they are human beings, and that our field isn’t some separate and perfect world – and that power and influence are tangible currency – sometimes spent wisely, other times needlessly squandered.

What I take from this passage is that the field should be engaged with which names are on this list and which are not. Thus, I’d be curious what people think of the list. Again, I’m not asking for opinions on individuals who are either on or off the list (as Barry notes, people are bound to have diverse points of view on the merits of individuals on the list). Rather, I’m interested to hear reflections on the overall makeup of the list—the types of people on it—and what this might say about the sector. In other words, what (if anything) does this list mean? Do you give the list much thought? If so, what do you think about it? And if it means nothing to you, why is that?

I wonder whether the shape of this list reflects the fact that arts organizations (and by that I mean the individuals working within and for them) have, over the past three decades, ceded too much of the power and influence over the arts and culture sector to funders, government agencies, and service organizations? Am I wrong about this?

Despite having concerns about the lack of people working in arts organizations on the list and some questions about the methodology used to generate the list (I wonder how representative it is), I would be disingenuous if I said that getting on the list meant nothing to me. I sincerely enjoy writing my blog and am deeply gratified when people read it much less take the time to Tweet about it, or post comments, or otherwise engage with the ideas. But I would also be remiss if I did not say that (with very few exceptions) I am largely influenced (and inspired) by those working in the trenches, in arts organizations. This is because I spent the majority of my career working in arts organizations and I know that the picture on the inside is much different than the one often envisioned or theorized by researchers, consultants, funders, and policy makers.

The lesson in my new tree for arts policy makers

About my tree:

Last month my husband and I hired a small family-owned landscaping business to help us renovate the small gardens in the front and back of our house. They planted three new trees, two of which are young (thin) but already quite tall. They planted the trees with support poles on either side to ensure they grow straight (see pic). As I have never had a garden I asked how many weeks the poles would need to stay. The answer: three years.

About the production houses in the Netherlands:

For years the Netherlands has had a unique system of support for promising performance artists and theater makers who have finished their training: dedicated production houses. As I understand it, these houses are often affiliated with larger theaters, drawing on resources they can provide, but are funded by the government and operate independently. They provide multiyear production support for artists after university (e.g. cash resources so artists can invest time in the research and development of their works and pay other artists, tech support, dramaturgy, promotion, etc.). During these post-grad residencies the emphasis is on strengthening the artist’s work.

I was with a gathering of artistic directors and performing arts curators last week at which we met several artists, including two that had come through this system and who spoke of the importance of the production houses in helping them become better artists and develop successful careers. We asked how long the support lasted. Their initial residencies were three years.

About the funding cuts in the Netherlands:

Among the many orchestras, dance companies, and other arts organizations that are going to be defunded in 2013, the Ministry of Culture has determined to shut down all 23 production houses in the Netherlands. This strikes me as a particularly unenlightened decision. For one, these production houses are relatively inexpensive to operate (they are a big bang for a small investment); second, the production houses play a critical role in the arts ecosystem here; third, they seem to help the Netherlands attract and retain truly talented theater/performance artists.

I am unsettled by what appears to be a strategy in the Netherlands of maintaining investments to the most high profile fine arts organizations while leaving many smaller organizations, artist companies, and intermediary organizations to fend for themselves. The rhetoric that is being perpetuated in the case of the production houses is that they will be taken under the wing of bigger institutions or become more entrepreneurial and find other sources of support. Given the short timeframe (the cuts go into effect in 2013) both scenarios seem highly unrealistic.

In any event, it seems that not many in the arts sector are buying the rhetoric. Quite a number of the artistic directors and artists our group met with spoke of planning to leave the Netherlands by 2013. Of course, as someone said to me a few days ago, this could be considered a positive outcome from the standpoint of the government.

Pfffffff. Cue the flashback reel of the US in the 80s and 90s.

The Netherlands is not alone in wanting to encourage private sector support for the arts. But there are smart ways and not-so-smart ways of doing this.

About ArtSupport Australia:

Several years ago now (after changing the tax laws to make it easier and more beneficial for individuals to set up small trusts and foundations), the Australia Arts Council started an arm’s length organization, run by visionary Louise Walsh, whose role is to broker relationships between small and midsized arts organizations and small private family foundations and trusts. ArtSupport Australia (ASA) meets with donors, talks to them about the importance of supporting the arts, and identifies organizations that might fit with their values; it mentors arts organizations to help them develop realistic funding strategies and prepare effective proposals; and it makes matches between the two. It’s a brilliant system and has had tremendous positive impact over the years.

While Kickstarter and other crowdfunding models seem to be working for some types of individual artists and projects and larger institutions have the capacity to buy fundraising expertise and (as a result of being high profile) tend to be attractive major private donors and foundations, a mechanism for connecting smaller family foundations with smaller and midsized arts organizations and ensembles/companies seems like a missing cog in many arts funding systems (including in the US). Even community foundations and donor advised funds aren’t really set up to fulfill this particular role.

When ArtSupport Australia was founded it received three years of support from the government. Even before the end of the initial funding period it was clear that it was working and the government has funded it consistently ever since. There’s an important tangential point here:  a big part of what makes ASA work (which, not unlike the production houses, is a lean organization that provides big bang for the buck) is that the Australia Arts Council is committed to funding it. It would change ASA (and compromise its mission) if it suddenly had to raise all of its operating expenses by skimming off a percentage of every gift or competing against the organizations it exists to support by competing directly for support from private donors.

Over the past year I’ve been asked rather frequently for my thoughts on how to encourage private support for the arts in the Netherlands, in light of the pending cuts. I’ve directed people to an an essay I wrote about some of the issues we face with the US system and I’ve said the same thing to everyone: the ArtSupport Australia model is brilliant and I think it would work very well in the Netherlands. I could easily imagine such a system, for instance, helping to broker relationships between a number of enlightened families, individuals and small firms and the production houses here.

***

As I’ve written before, cutting off the sprinklers to the grass and small shrubs while continuing to water the old, tall trees is not the path to a vibrant arts and culture sector. Too often, arts policy makers develop policies that demonstrate a fundamental lack of understanding about such things as: the interdependencies between large organizations and small ones, and the commercial arts sector and the subsidized sector; what makes a city attractive to artists; how good artists become great artists; what motivates donors to give; how difficult it is for some very worthy organizations to be competitive in the funding process; and the time and personal connections that it takes for donors and arts organizations to form relationships that are beneficial and that will be sustained through good economic times and bad ones.

My young tree needs supports if it is going to become a healthy, large tree. Young artists need developmental support if they are going to become great artists. Countries without a culture of asking and giving need a support system if effective long term relationships are going to be built between private donors and the arts sector, particularly if there is a hope that more than just the large, historically leading organizations will be supported by private donors. Policy makers need to be smarter about how the arts ecosystem works so that they know where to provide support structures and for how long.

Australia got it right. I’ll be interested to see what the Netherlands does in the coming months and years.

How to avoid a strip-mall future for the arts sector: Lessons from the boutique label, Pi

This past week I came across a New York Times article featured on ArtsJournal examining the remarkable success of the indie Jazz label, Pi. The article demonstrates that Pi is bucking trends in the music industry. It is managing to not just keep its head above water at a time when many music labels are struggling, but it is having tremendous impact despite being a relatively small Jazz label focused on the leading edge of its artform.

Here are a few keys to Pi’s success (which I gleaned from the article):

(1)   Unlike many labels that flood the market with product (often as a hedge against the uncertainty of not knowing which will succeed or not), Pi releases a handful of albums per year and is highly selective in choosing which artists to get behind. Virtually everything it releases meets with critical acclaim. Because it has earned a reputation for consistently putting out great albums and has a very clear niche, it has a devoted (and growing) fan base.

(2)   Given its limited release schedule, and the limited revenue potential of each of its releases (these are not mainstream artists), Pi keeps its overhead low. Its owners are pragmatic and disciplined. By staying small they have been able to maintain artistic integrity.

(3)   Pi has a long courtship with an artist before it makes a commitment. Once in, however, Pi invests deeply in the development of its artists and ensures that each receives sufficient resources, attention, and support from the label. This is a critical factor in the label’s remarkable track record and reputation.

Pi’s strategies are serving both its artists and its customers.

Given an overabundance of product and seats to fill on any given night in many communities (relative to current ‘demand’) and (sorry to say) the not-quite-ready-for-primetime-quality of much the so-called ‘professional’ work that is produced and presented in the US, it’s worth considering the lessons of Pi (which are not new, of course).

It seems that more than a few overleveraged and underperforming professional nonprofit arts organizations need to both better differentiate themselves and hold themselves to higher artistic standards; to right-size their institutions and reduce fixed costs given the amount of income they can reasonably expect for the forseeable future; and to provide more time, attention, and resources to artists and to the development, production, and thoughtful promotion of artistic works.

I’d much rather live in a community with a sustainable number of boutique arts organizations than one with a deluxe mall featuring four high-end department-stores (the ‘flagship’ orchestra, theater, opera, and ballet companies) that suck up the majority of the resources and a bunch of strip malls made up of undercapitalized retail chains and mom-and-pop shops that either saw their best days in 1985 and haven’t been able to make improvements since, or were formed in recent years and (while perhaps promising) are struggling for attention, customers and capital.

I seriously fear that the strip mall nonprofit arts sector is our future. There are arts boutiques out there, but in many cities they are few and far between and seem endangered.

How and why so many arts organizations in the US have grown to unsustainable levels in recent decades is a topic that requires more reflection than I can give in a blog post. However, I will say this: it often seems that capacity building in the arts sector is (1) aimed primarily at securing the administrative futures of arts organizations and (2) resulting in an erosion of quality and distinction in artistic processes and experiences, today. I by no means wish to suggest that the answer to an overbuilt sector is to starve it into a more sustainable state; but it is reasonable to think that we need to seriously rethink how existing resources are distributed (within and among institutions).

We tend to think of a ‘sustainable state’ for the arts and culture sector as being one in which existing arts organizations have achieved equilibrium and can crank along in perpetuity. This is wrongheaded: even if we could achieve a state in which all existing organizations could secure adequate resources to keep running year-after-year, the lack of creative destruction in the sector would eventually lead to its stultification (oh wait, we may be there now). This is one of the consequences of letting some institutions get ‘too big to fail’ (and too big is relative to the size of city you are in and the other arts organizations in your market): the majority of arts sector resources get sucked into the incumbents and rather than creative destruction (reinvention of those firms or their replacement by younger, more innovative ones) we end up with plain old destruction (losing the boutiques and watching the big organizations calcify).

Pi may or may not last for another 50 years (much less beyond the lives of its owners/founders). But while it exists it is having positive cultural and social impact. That’s more than we can say about many professional nonprofit arts organizations in the US.

Generic strip-mall image by Mark Winfrey, licensed at Shutterstock.com.

 

No algorithms needed for this show recommender system

I’m back from my honeymoon and a brief hiatus from Jumper. Despite a volatile stock market, downgrading of the US credit rating, questions about the fate of the Euro, and arts budgets hither and yon that are already slashed or soon to be so, the 2011-2012 arts season begins (although sadly with the loss of some very good organizations). I’ll be honest, since moving to the Netherlands I have not seen nearly as much work as I would have liked. This is primarily due to other commitments (family, Dutch lessons, work) and logistics (I have a long commute home, particularly if a show lets out past 10:30 pm). But it is also partly due to the fact that I have had a difficult time figuring out the performance scene here, despite knowing a number of artists, companies and organizations before I arrived.

In any event, one morning this past week I engaged in what now feels like a rather old fashioned way of getting information on an arts event: I perused a thick brochure describing shows featured in the upcoming ten-day Nederlands Theater Festival in Amsterdam. The festival features remounts of some of the best theater works produced in the last season (selected by an outside
jury that also awards prizes) as well as other works and activities. After browsing the 62-page program book I determined that (at a minimum) I would see the three works that advertised English surtitling; but beyond that, I was uncertain which shows I might enjoy. I handed the materials to my husband, Jaap, saying “I wish I knew more about these companies.” He paged through the materials and came to the last page and read out loud to me (translating from Dutch to English):

“Would you like to receive personalized advice about the performances?”

“Oh yeah, call me back!”

I thought, “Oh, that’s cool. They have their box office staff call people to give advice on purchases.” Wrong. There was a form asking for my name and telephone number and asking who among the following I would like to call me:

  • a member of the jury,
  • one of the theater makers (an actor or director from one of the shows featured in the festival),
  • the director of the festival,
  • or a professional theater adviser (I’m not quite sure what this means).

I’ve long thought that ‘concierge services’ are sorely needed in the live professional arts scene. One of the recurring themes from my talks at marketing conferences is that arts organizations could create greater value for their patrons by giving personalized advice aimed at helping people navigate the arts scene and make better purchase decisions. I’ve suggested that arts groups could use citywide arts and culture portals to do this (using a recommender system + patron reviews/comments + top picks by arts staff, artists, and culture vultures) or box office staff or volunteers specifically equipped to give such advice (via chat or telephone).

Never in my wildest dreams did I think that an arts organization might offer the director of its festival, or a member of the jury, or the actor or director associated with a particular show as the person to give such advice (except perhaps as a benefit to major donors and other VIPs, which I imagine happens on an ad hoc basis all the time). It’s certainly the first time I’ve encountered such a service for the general public.

I kept looking at the form with amazement and (I must say) a wee bit of skepticism. So, these people will call me back, I thought, but will they enjoy doing so or is this an ‘audience development’ program that has members of the artistic staff rolling their eyes? Will the advice really be personalized, or are the advisers programmed to ask a few standard questions (classical, contemporary or experimental? drama or comedy? bare bones or highly produced?) and then nudge people towards one or two obvious slots?(Which isn’t to say that a call-center-style service, in and of itself, might not be of value.)

My amazement and skepticism is based on years (in the US) of having my mailbox flooded with artfully designed postcards with no information on a show (sometimes not even a date or location); years of taking the time to read the descriptions of shows in promotional materials and feeling that I might as well pick which show to see using the eeny meeny miny moe method; and trying to use the filters on online cultural calendars and finding that no matter what I plug in the site wants to send me to something like Beauty and the Beast on Ice. In other words, it’s based on years of the arts scene sending the message: If you can’t figure out what to see based on the information we’ve provided that’s a good indication that you may be happier driving to the local Cineplex and seeing Bridesmaids (which I loved).

I also love the work of Ivo van Hove and Toneelgroep Amsteram and Dood Paard, which are two of the companies I plan to see at the Nederlands Theater Festival. And I love the spirit and aims of this ‘at your service’, high-level, personalized callback program (though I am also very curious to learn whether they have many takers of the service and, if so, if it becomes a burden for those on the hook to make calls). While rather incredulous, I’m betting on being pleasantly surprised. I plan to fill out the form and await a return phone call from no less than the director of the festival, Jeffrey Meulman.

 

 

Arts Orgs: Places 2Meet or Not2Meet?

I’m getting married in a couple weeks and then headed on my honeymoon so this will be my last post until mid-August. Enjoy these summer days!

Seats2Meet - Utrecht

So, I recently learned about an innovation in meeting spaces that was founded in the Netherlands and has begun to spread across Europe. It’s called Seats2Meet. The concept is a communal space where independent contractors or those simply in need of a temporary workspace can come to plug-in, meet-up, and network. I visited a new location at Utrecht Central Station, near my home.

The day I visited the place was buzzing but still conducive to taking care of business. The vibe was relaxed and social, but definitely work-focused. The users of the space, each invariably armed with a laptop or tablet, worked solo or clustered in 2s and 3s at round and rectangular tables throughout an open space. Additionally, I spied a private ‘board room’ and a ‘quiet room’. There was also a coffee station in the middle of the room.

Talking with the staff, I learned that work tables/seats are free to use, however, Seats2Meet requests that anyone interested to use the space sign up at least one day prior. This allows them to alert potential users if the space appears to be maxed out at certain times of the day and, if so, to encourage users to come at a different time or go to a different location. All users have access to free coffee and tea throughout the day, and (in some locations) a free lunch (that’s right, a free lunch). Seats2Meet also stresses in its materials that it is both an online and live space to network and share knowledge.

How is this paid for, you ask? Well, according to the person that gave me the scoop, the free seats are subsidized by the those who pay to use private meeting spaces and spots in the quiet work rooms, which are rented in blocks of time for an hourly fee; (so, at least in part, it operates with a Freemium business model). I gather that the company also has a partnership program whereby entrepreneurs can license the Seats2Meet name and start franchises in their communities.

If I were (re)designing an arts venue these days, I think I would look into the feasibility of a Seats2Meet franchise being located in the space. Arts venues would seem to have at least a few advantages as locales for these work/meeting spaces: they often have space that goes unused during the day; they are associated with ‘creativity’ (and Seats2Meet is particularly interested in appealing to creative freelance types); and arts organizations could go one better than a ‘free lunch’ — they could potentially host happy hour performances or exhibitions at the end of the workday or week. For those organizations with excess real estate, or striving to be a ‘community hub’, or endeavoring to get more people to use their spaces during the day, perhaps a Seats2Meet franchise (or something similar) is worth exploring? Here’s a link to information on the partnership program.

But beyond the potential incorporation of the Seats2Meet concept into the planning of an arts facility, I keep thinking about the expectation (actually one of the stated rules on a sign when you visit) that Seats2Meet members (unless they are in the ‘quiet room’, presumably) should be open to sharing their knowledge and talking with others. Seats2Meet is striving to create an online network and to be a community, not simply a work space for the knowmadic.

Ostensibly nonprofit arts organizations are in the community-building business; but you sure wouldn’t know it when you visit many of them. I wonder how many arts groups would hang a sign in the lobby saying, “By coming here today you are not simply viewing a performance, you are participating in a community event. We ask you to introduce yourself to those standing and seated around you and to be open to conversation from others. After the performance, we’ll keep the bar open and continue to serve drinks and desserts for a couple hours; we encourage you to stay awhile and talk with others who came to see this performance tonight.”

Of course, it’s much easier to get people to stay if you have a cozy space where they can sit and talk. Hmmmm …. perhaps an evening use for that Seats2Meet location? … Workspace by day, lounge by night?

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.

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