Jumper

Diane Ragsdale on what the arts do and why

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.

What is a mission-failing arts org? Like its opposite, perhaps you know it when you see it.

STREB: The Opposite of Mission Failure

In last week’s post I suggested that the sector might be strengthened if some ‘mission-failing’ organizations were to close. I defined mission-failing organizations as those that were not providing sufficient cultural or social value relative to the investments in them. It’s an awkward phrase and I find it difficult to describe a mission-failing organization with any confidence; however, I can give an example of its opposite–an organization that is providing great cultural and social value–and did so in a talk I gave in 2010 called The Excellence Barrier.

Here’s what I said (additional comments follow the excerpt):

Susan Sontag once wrote, “Existence is no more than the precarious attainment of relevance in an intensely mobile flux of past, present, and future.”  I take particular note of the phrase, “precarious attainment of relevance.”  No organization can be granted relevance in perpetuity based on the size of its endowment, the permanence of the building it occupies, the fact that it was the first or largest of its kind in its region or city, or its historic accomplishments.  The institution exists to matter to people, in a particular community, today.  That is the impact that must be assessed.

What does impact look like if not the metrics we’re currently assessing?  Alan Brown has done terrific work in assessing intrinsic impacts and community engagement, and I couldn’t begin to summarize his research here—but I suggest you take a look at it.   I would, however, describe what I consider to be one of the best examples in the US of an organization that is brokering relationships between people and art.

In 2003, choreographer Elizabeth Streb opened a performance space in the Williamsburg neighborhood of Brooklyn, N.Y. called S.L.A.M. Instead of creating a church-like space that patrons visited once a week for a sacred experience, Streb opened the doors and let people come in anytime to watch rehearsal or use the restroom. She added popcorn and cotton candy machines and let people walk around and eat food during the performances.

Streb noticed that her patrons wanted to join in on the action, so she installed a trapeze and began teaching people how to fly. Performances largely feature the professional company, but Streb also features her students in the shows. Not content to simply use the platform of S.L.A.M. to promote her own work, Streb began fostering the development of the next generation of artists, through an Emerging Artists Commissioning Program. 

Streb no longer needs to advertise her performances because she has created a robust social network that drives ticket sales. There is a palpable energy and familiarity in the room—people know each other and interact in the space as they would at a backyard barbecue. People come back to the performances time after time and the “initiated” (kids and adults alike) delight in showing newcomers the ropes, both literally and figuratively. The experience is participatory, not transactional.

Streb’s success is measured not when the ticket gets sold at the box office, but thirty minutes after the show when everyone is still lingering, buzzing, and talking with one another and the artists. Streb is cultivating “true fans”—a diverse group of people who are deeply engaged, enthusiastic, and loyal.  As Kevin Kelly, author of the article, “1,000 True Fans” might say, Streb’s fans “buy the t-shirt, and the mug, and the hat.” Streb does not behave as if achieving artistic virtuosity and being relevant to the community are competing or mutually exclusive goals. She is pursuing excellence and equity. 

By highlighting Elizabeth Streb I am, by no means, suggesting that the sector should institutionalize her particular approaches or practices. The key takeaway is this: You cannot miss Streb’s value when you go to S.L.A.M. And I would suggest that the opposite is also true. You know a walking dead organization when you see one.

An important point: in using the term ‘mission-failing’ I was intentionally avoiding the generic term ‘failing’ as I think it implies financial failure and one cannot assume that the groups that struggle the most financially are those that are providing the least value to society. (Though it is logical to ask how sustainable, and able to maximize mission, such financially failing organizations are and whether consolidation, strategic partnership, or merger with another organization might be necessary. Brian Newman has written a terrific post, Nonprofit Arts Zombies, on this topic.)

Pete Miller asked in his astute comment to last week’s post: “What is the path forward to winnow mission accomplishing organizations from time marking organizations?” Again, there is no easy answer. With very few barriers to entry (the IRS doles out 501c3 status like XTC at an 80s rave) growth of the sector will, no doubt, continue. It will, thus, become all the more imporant that we figure out how to ensure that resources are well utilized.

I do not believe it is the role of the NEA or any other funder in the US to hold ‘death panels’ and determine which organizations are mission-failing and should close. Ultimately, it seems that it is nonprofit boards and staffs that must wrestle with this question and charge themselves to take the decision that is in the best interest of the greater good.

In the meantime, funders need to determine what to do with their limited resources. As a philanthropoid friend wrote to me last week, “You spread the pain or you concentrate it. We all know we should target, but almost everyone just spreads the pain because it’s emotionally easier.” Candidly, we may not be able to (and I know many would argue we should not) reduce the actual number of nonprofit theaters (and other types of arts organizations) that exist; but funders certainly can reduce the number of organizations that receive grants and subsidies. Private and government funders should target their resources, and they should target them to those that are clicking on all cylinders, so to speak–and within that group, might I suggest prioritizing those organizations that cannot as easily cultivate support from individual donors or develop other revenue streams.

There were several posts last week at #supplydemand. I’ve put some of them in my featured texts section. If there are other relevant posts and texts you’d like to see included send them to me.

Two housekeeping matters: (1) Here’s a new essay, Rethinking Cultural Philanthropy, which I wrote for last week’s State of the Arts Conference in London; and (2) you can now follow me on Twitter at DERagsdale.

Image of Elizabeth Streb’s book STREB: How to Become an Extreme Action Hero.

Supply and Demand Redux: Rocco’s Comment and the Elephant in the Room

I’ve been following the responses to Rocco’s ‘decreasing supply‘ comment and his subsequent post on the NEA blog. Some believe that supply/demand is the wrong framework through which to look at the sector; some that there is no such thing as too much art and that we should increase patronage rather than ‘kill’ organizations; some agree with him but believe it was inappropriate for him to make the statement; and a few seem to agree with his points and believe that it was beneficial for him to make them. I’m in the last group.

Rocco has done the arts sector a service with his ‘decreasing supply’ comment as I think it has created an opening for a candid discussion about an elephant in the room: the US lacks a mechanism for identifying and dealing with mission-failing arts organizations and (because competition for resources exists) the nonprofit arts sector might be healthier overall if some mission-failing organizations were to close. Following on my overstocked arts pond post of a few weeks ago, here are some further thoughts on the supply/demand issue.

Competition among arts organizations for earned and contributed income exists. Some markets and organizations experience more competition than others, but it is not uncommon for arts groups located in the same city to be competing to secure patronage and trustees from among the same (narrow) demographic of upper middle class well educated arts-goers and funds from one or two government agencies and a small number of private foundations and corporations.

Many arts people take the stance that we should ‘let 1,000 flowers bloom’. While one might theoretically argue that there is no such thing as ‘too much art in the world’, the same cannot be said of arts organizations: to the degree that resources are not growing at the same rate as organizations (and they are not according to the most recent National Arts Index report), every new firm that enters the sector reduces the chances of every other to secure sufficient resources to operate.

If a commercial firm experiences losses year after year—unless it can successfully develop a new market for its product, or change its product to better serve existing markets, or restructure its business to reduce expenses, or find economies of scale through expansion or merger, or achieve revenues over expenses via other strategies—it will most likely shut down.  Or it might be taken over by others who believe they can do a better job of running it. If an entire industry is in decline and there is insufficient demand for the current suppliers to cover their costs then one would expect to see firms exit the industry until equilibrium is achieved.  There are exceptions– but generally speaking, this is what one would expect because commercial firms exist to make profits.

It’s more complicated for nonprofits because while they must have sufficient cash to operate, they exist (as Andrew Taylor has succinctly put it) to ‘maximize mission’ not profits.  Nonprofit organizations do not (in theory) exist to benefit themselves (i.e., to keep arts administrators gainfully employed); they have an educational and charitable mission and exist to benefit society (e.g., to support the development of artists and people’s relationship to the arts). One cannot assume that an organization that is balancing its budget is achieving its mission and providing cultural and social value to society; nor can one assume the opposite. 

If there are nonprofit arts organizations that are not providing ‘sufficient’ value to society relative to the current investments in them by the government, private foundations, and other donors, and if they do not appear to be able or willing to adapt to fix this situation, then it is logical to assert that other more deserving nonprofit organizations (arts or otherwise) that are currently competing with them for resources would be better off if those ‘mission-failing’ organizations would close (or be re-organized).

However, even if we were able to identify ‘mission-failing’ organizations (sometimes it’s obvious, often it’s not), we do not have a clear method for dealing with the ‘dead weight’ in the sector.  We don’t have a ministry of culture and large government subsidies. If we did, failing organizations could be de-funded and might adapt or close their doors as a result. The plurality of the US nonprofit model is both a strength and a weakness. Government agencies, private foundations, corporations, and major donors give more than just their money: they give endorsements that serve as signals to board members, leaders of organizations, and other donors. Renewed support from the state arts council or one well known family foundation to a failing organization can be all that’s needed to encourage other donors to re-up and for the board and staff to persist on the wrong course for another year (despite good sense telling all of them to do otherwise).

Many organizations were started with the belief that they should exist as permanent institutions and have fought for their survival at all costs. Some of our dead weight is in historically leading ‘tall trees’ that have been preserved for far too long. Those that are the largest or that have already existed the longest are often assumed to be the most valuable. This is why many arts organizations get nervous when the cutting supply conversation happens; they assume (and with good reason) that funders and government agencies will sooner turn off the sprinklers that are misting the grass, the small bushes, and the saplings than shift the hose from one tall tree. (I’d like to see some funders prove them wrong on this.)

We lack a sound mechanism for communities to identify and deal with mission-failing organizations—those that refuse to adapt or close despite a preponderance of evidence that it would be better for society if they were to do so. There is no easy solution to this but there are opportunity costs to ignoring the problem:  again, resources going to failing organizations are resources that cannot be utilized by those providing greater cultural and social value.

The reality is that organizations will close. Some already have, some are closing as I write this, and some will die in the coming months or years. And they will either be the right organizations to close or the wrong organizations to close.  Why is it better to shut our eyes, wring our hands, and hope for the best?

Of course, dealing with  failing organizations is only part of the strategy. We still have the issue of declining participation rates. Many took offense at Rocco’s comment that ‘demand is not going to increase’; but according to a report put out by his own agency, arts participation rates have been trending downward, more or less, for more than two decades.  I don’t perceive Rocco to be a pessimist as much as a realist.

Optimistically, I believe that there is ‘pent up demand’ (read: need) for the arts that is not being realized because of financial, geographic, cultural, educational, social, logistical, programmatic, and other barriers to participation. Pessimistically, I do not see many nonprofit arts organizations radically adapting their institutions to address these barriers. I hope I am proven wrong on this.

To be clear, I’m not suggesting that every organization needs to serve its entire community (it would be unwise for all but the largest flagship institutions to even try to do so); but if a given community has 100 arts organizations, neither should 80 of them be serving the same small segment of society. Perhpas arts organizations should spend less time stewing about the ‘decreasing supply’ comment made by Rocco Landesman and more time pondering why  participation rates have been declining and why the arts and culture sector is securing a declining portion of philanthropic dollars? This may be the other elephant in the room that merits some earnest discussion. And (please) this is not a call for greater investments in marketing and fundraising; it is a call for more relevant institutions.

Elephant image by Alexander A. Sobolev, licensed at Shutterstock.com

Waiting for a new business model for the arts.

"The air is full of our cries." (He listens.) "But habit is a great deadener."

What do nonprofit arts people mean when they say ‘the business model is broken’? I’ve heard this phrased decried ad nauseum in the US for at least the past three years. It was a working hypothesis before the economic downturn; now it seems to be a statement of fact. So what model are we talking about? The American ‘nonprofit’ model for the arts? A particular ‘business’ model used by individual organizations? A Stanford business school professor once gave me the following definition: a model is a representation of your beliefs about causality. Perhaps more interesting questions would be, what beliefs about causality underpin our ‘model’, and are they still valid?

Last year, in his post, One business model to rule them all, Andrew Taylor referenced a comment Clara Miller of Nonprofit Finance Fund made at an Americans for the Arts conference in 2010. She said, “There is one business model: reliable revenue that meets or exceeds expenses. Any questions?” I was at that session. A lot of people chuckled when she made the comment.

And then I remember thinking: So, which revenue sources are reliable at a nonprofit arts organization? Government arts programs across the country seem to go into duck and cover mode on a regular basis; corporations are often skittish—lavish one year and austere the next; foundations are overly cautious and generally dole out funds one year at a time, being careful to avoid enabling ‘dependency’; fewer and fewer people want to commit to buying a season’s worth of tickets up front; single ticket buyers are notoriously unpredictable; and individual donors are as varied as … well, individuals: some are dependable and loyal but many are fickle and elusive.

It seems like most arts organizations start each year with very little of their income committed and spend much of the year on pins and needles waiting to see if they will hit their revenue targets. Are we operating under a delusion that there is such thing as ‘reliable revenue that meets or exceeds expenses’ in the arts? And if so, is there a corresponding faulty belief that underpins our business model? For instance, that the arts are valued by our society?

Is this what we mean by ‘the model is broken’? Or is it something else? I would love to hear reflections on the ‘broken model’. What’s broken? How do we fix it?

Desolate Tree image from by lolloj licensed by Shutterstock.com. Quote from Waiting for Godot by Samuel Beckett.

overstocked arts pond: fish too big & fish too many

My dad used to keep a goldfish pond in our back yard. Without some form of population control, goldfish ponds can become overstocked, a situtation in which the fish become sick, or even die, from lack of oxygen and competitive stress. 

The Kresge Foundation and Grantmakers in the Arts have recently spearheaded a funder-led initiative,“The National Capitalization Project,” aimed at addressing chronic undercapitalization of the arts sector. The report suggests we have an overstocked arts pond: “At a time of flattening demand there is increasing supply … in terms of both the sheer number of organizations and the supply of product. Neither the audiences nor the public or philanthropic sector can support this level of oversupply. Taken together, this situation is pushing organizations into hyper-competition.” 

But how, realistically, can we address this ‘fish too many’ problem when, according to the Urban Institute, from 2003-2008 (on average) a new non-profit arts organization was created at a rate of one every three hours? It’s reasonable to suggest, as Sarah Lutman has in her blog on this report, that foundations should ‘just say no’. Unfortunately, foundations throw so few pellets in the pond, relatively speaking, I’m not sure that this would have much effect? Besides, it’s the nature of the US system that when one funder closes a door, another often opens a window.

We appear to have neither the mechanism nor the will to effectively downsize the sector and thus we have created a rivalrous environment. And how have arts groups responded? Well, many have grown their institutions, making ever-increasing investments in marketing, development, high profile leaders, and buildings in order to be winners in the desperate fight for prestige, press, audiences, trustees, and donors.

Where did they find the money to grow, you ask? Well, when you look at the balance sheets of organizations it’s clear that many of them didn’t; but that did not stop them from growing their operations anyway. They now have what we call ‘structural deficits’ and many of them have incurred debt or raided their endowments to keep their organizations afloat. So we have not only a ‘fish too many’ problem, in our overstocked pond, we also have a ‘fish too big’ problem.  

Why are organizations permitted to incur deficits year upon year? Who is held accountable when an arts group builds a space it cannot afford or launches a major initiative it cannot sustain? Who looks out for whether other nonprofits in town suffer when one organization becomes overgrown? And who takes repsponsibility for making sure debts related to year-upon-year deficits and unsuccessful capital campaigns are paid off?

The sad reality is that the lack of ‘ownership’ in the nonprofit system too often seems to result in a lack of ‘accountability’. It’s too easy for funders to ‘phase out’ support on programs or organizations they encouraged into existence; trustees who voted to build a new space to cycle off the board when the bonds, loans, and increased operating expenses must be paid; leaders that have driven an organization into the ground to exit stage left leaving a successor to clean up the mess; and everyone to turn their backs on small and midsized organizations that are often the ones left starving in this fish feeding frenzy.

I applaud the funders that have worked on this capitalization initiative for considering ways that they might change their own practices in order to strengthen the financial health of individual arts institutions.Unfortunately, I think their efforts may have minimal impact if these ‘fish too big’ and ‘fish too many’ problems cannot be systemically addressed. BTW, in response to my funder jargon post, more than a few people suggested ‘capitalization’ as the funder word for 2011–no doubt because of this initiative.

Photo of fish feeding frenzy by Tito Wong, licensed from Shutterstock.com.

Strategic partnerships between funders & arts orgs: same small grants, more hoop jumping

There were many thoughtful comments to last week’s post, including provocative reflections on the power imbalance between funders and grantees and speculation as to whether restructuring the relationship as a ‘partnership’ might be feasible or desirable. In recent years, a ‘strategic partnership’ approach (commonly used by venture philanthropists seeking to, for example, fund nonprofits to make and distribute mosquito nets in the Third World), has been embraced by some arts funders. But is this a positive development for arts groups?

Most arts funders (even those that are endeavoring to be ‘partners’) are making miniscule grants relative to arts organizations’ operating budgets, or even the budgets of their individual programs in many cases. If an arts organization is cobbling together a bunch of $5-$25,000 grants to fund some portion of its operations (as many of them are), how many authentic ‘partnerships’ (read: masters) can it reasonably fulfill (read: serve)?

For that matter, how many ‘partnerships’ can one funder reasonably sustain? I was interested to learn from a presentation by a major venture philanthropist that his foundation had determined that it could manage no more than about 30 projects at a time, because each ‘partnership’ required sustained financial support and significant time (read: involvement) of foundation staff.

Which raises another question: Do arts organizations want ‘partnership’ if it implies intense involvement? Furthermore, is such involvement appropriate when one is creating operas or art exhibitions? Witness the way some foundations and individual donors have, essentially, sought to coerce the National Portrait Gallery into reinstating A Fire in My Belly by artist David Wojnarowicz on the grounds that they have contributed to the exhibit Hide/Seek: Difference and Desire in American Portraiture.

It would appear that the National Portrait Gallery made the decision to remove the exhibit in response to political pressure from representatives of the US government, which might reasonably be considered a ‘partner’ given that the NPG receives several million dollars in federal appropriations each year. That other smaller ‘partners’ of the exhibit disagree with the decision is completely understandable (there seems to be near unanimity in the ‘art world’ that this was a scandalous turn of events); but that they expect to change the outcome, may not be. Unless these other funders and individual donors can pony up millions of dollars per year in operating support for the National Portrait Gallery, they are unlikely to have significant political leverage with it now, or in the future. And, reasonably, should they?  

I sense that grant seekers are keen to use the term ‘partnership’ as they perceive that recasting the relationship as two entities jointly trying to achieve a great goal may help level the playing field and encourage meaningful underwriting in support of core programs for sustained periods of time (think: The Humana Festival at Actors Theatre of Louisville). Realistically, I don’t see many arts funders being able or willing to do this. Cynically, I think calling them partners (particularly those that are flying the ‘strategic philanthropy’ flag) may simply give them more power and lead them to expect more involvement and hoop jumping and achievement of outcomes, in exchange for what still amounts to relatively small amounts of restricted support.

Elephant and Mouse image by Gnurf, licensed at Shutterstock.com

Arts & Culture Sector 2011: Striving for Systegic Survibrustainadaptinnovaccountabeffectipreneurism

In 2005, when I was working at Mellon, a fellow funder suggested that the funding community needed to stop using words like ‘strategy’. She lamented, “Funders got arts organizations to start using [such] business words years ago, but nothing has changed. They are not in better shape.” (Evidently, it takes more than using business jargon in funding guidelines and proposals for arts organizations to improve their finances.) Around that same time I correctly predicted that ‘innovation’ would emerge as the next funder mot-du-jour.

Funnily enough, I was at a meeting of funders a year later at which some had recently jumped on the ‘innovation’ bandwagon while others, who had been using ‘innovation’ for a year or two already, were planning to take the word out of their guidelines because they had determined it wasn’t working. (Evidently it takes more than using business jargon in funding guidelines and proposals for arts organizations to overcome risk aversion and ‘innovate’.)

‘Systemic’, ‘effective’, ‘sustainable‘, ‘adaptable’, ‘entrepreneurial’, ‘accountable’, and ‘artistically vibrant’ now appear to be vying for top spots. ‘Emerging’, ‘mid-career’, and ‘established’ are continually embraced and abandoned like partners in a square dance (and many artists and organizations cleverly reposition themselves accordingly in order to qualify for grants). Of course, these buzzwords never fully displace the ubiquitous pursuits of ‘excellence’, ‘accessibility’, and ‘diversity’.

This juggling of magic words and continual tweaking or overhauling of definitions and priorities by many (but certainly not all) funders is understandably maddening to grantees. Funders intend no harm, and most probably believe their ideas and guidelines are well-received because … well, who would dare to say otherwise?  The generally accepted wisdom is that it’s safer to flatter funders than to challenge their intelligence. Even when funders convene arts leaders to ask for ‘honest input’ that might help shape their priorities and guidelines, all too often participants leave the meeting shaking their heads at the amount of BS flung around the table.

Fantasizing for a moment … I wonder what would happen if funders started getting letters from organizations saying: “After reviewing your guidelines we have determined not to seek a grant in support of ‘Systegic Survibrustainadaptinnovaccountabeffectipreneurism‘. We must admit that we understand neither what is meant by this term as you are using it in your guidelines, nor why you believe it to be an appropriate, beneficial, or achievable goal for our organization or others like us. We considered writing a fictional proposal that would please you, because we could certainly use the funds in pursuit of the goals we’re actually pursuing, but decided this would be both disingenuous and a waste of time (yours and ours).” 

I suspect most funders would shrug off such a letter and that it would have little impact.

David Dower at Arena Stage has noted at more than one gathering of theater types that being “an ‘artist-focused‘ organization that develops ‘new works‘ by ‘emerging’ artists‘ of ‘culturally diverse‘ backgrounds,” is the current phrase that pays with theater funders.  As you might suspect, it has become an articulated goal (if not a goal in practice) of theaters across the US. I’ve witnessed funders and theater leaders alike chuckling at David’s observation, no doubt in sheepish recognition of its truth.

The promotion of such jargon by funders, and the dutiful adoption of it (on paper anyway) by arts organizations has been going on for decades. What’s bewildering and disappointing is that this mechanical and dysfunctional pas-de-deux persists despite the fact that both grant-makers and -seekers seem to recognize it as such. I wonder whether we have simply given up on the possibility of enlightened dialogue, or whether we are we actively trying to avoid it?

So … any predictions on what the winning word for 2011 will be?

Slow Food: a model for the arts and culture sector?

Capay heirloom tomatoes at Slow Food Nation

In 1986, a McDonald’s opened near the historic Spanish Steps in Rome. It was the inciting incident that prompted culinary writer Carlo Petrini to launch Slow Food, a grassroots movement and counter-revolution to the fast food industry, which had ‘revolutionized’ dining beginning in the early twentieth century. I’ve been wondering the past couple years whether the ‘high arts’ sphere in the US might benefit from modeling some of Slow Food’s strategies. For example:

  • Through festivals and events, Slow Food connects everyday people (not just ‘major donors’ or ‘underserved youth’) directly with the farmers and artisans from their community because it believes if you have a relationship with your local poultry farmer, and understand how he raises his birds, you may be more likely to give him your business rather than Tyson.
  • Slow Food knows that many taste buds have become accustomed to fast food so it helps adults and kids reawaken their senses and study all aspects of food by offering Taste Education events that are an integral and enjoyable aspect of what they do (as opposed to supplementary and pedantic, patronizing, or cursory). 
  • Slow Food values what you do in your own kitchen as much as what Alice Waters does at Chez Panisse. It tries to encourage (rather than ignore or dismiss) your inner Alice Waters.  Slow Food restaurants are but one component of a comprehensive strategy for changing the relationship between people and food. 

Indeed, to fight the impact of big agribusiness Slow Food’s primary strategy was not to open upscale restaurants and send out brochures announcing: “A world-class meal featuring olive oil-soaked ladotiri cheese from Greece, lentils from Abruzzi, sausages made from Sienese wild boar raised in Tuscany, and a dessert featuring Vesuvian apricots – $140 per person.”

If it had, one can imagine the implicit message to the people tossing the brochure in the trashcan on their way to grab a burger at the diner on the corner might have been: “We think you will probably feel more comfortable eating somewhere else.” 

Here’s what I see:  Plenty of Boomers and others who have ‘no time’ for the ballet are spending plenty of time growing their own herbs; browsing farmers markets, buying organic cheeses, artisanal breads, and heirloom fruits and vegetables; and preparing gourmet feasts in their Viking-stove-equipped kitchens. Others are spending the equivalent of tickets to the ballet (in time and money) dining at Slow Food restaurants. While it’s hard to know how much of this gastronomic enthusiasm can be credited to Slow Food (as opposed to other factors), the list of accomplishments on its Web site would appear to indicate that Slow Food is making headway with its revolution through food.

Can we say the same about the ‘arts and culture sector’ – particularly the ‘high end’ of it? We’ve created more organizations, but have we brought more people over to the arts cause? And what is our cause, anyway? If, like Carlo Petrini in 1989, we are faced with the difficult reality that there is declining appreciation for what we do, might we need to focus our efforts on changing the relationship between people and art? If so, can the arts achieve that goal with its current strategies?

Heirloom Tomatoes Image available under a Creative Commons license, found at Wikimedia Commons, & originally posted to Flickr by mercedesfromtheeighties at http://flickr.com/photos/51314692@N00/2812518700.

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