I recently learned that playing a hands-on role in things and having a small staff doesn't necessarily mean one is hearing about all the problems that are occurring. I am frequently busy during a performance and can't be watching everything. A year or so ago I put a folder full of House Manager report forms in the front of house office. I didn't want my house managers to feel they had to go to the trouble of writing up a report on every show if it was uneventful so I told them they need not bother with them if everyone is showing up on time, there are no problems with equipment, lights aren't out, etc.
I really didn't get many reports. While I was occasionally curious as to why I was not, it wasn't necessarily strange. The house management office is equipt with supplies and tools necessary to change light bulbs, replace paper towels and fix leaky toilets. Other problems may be resolved by talking to the tech crew. Our ushers know what the dress code is and how they are expected to act. Likewise, many of our renters return year after year and are acquainted with the house rules. The reports I did get didn't really illuminate anything I needed to be concerned about.
Then the technical director pointed out that all the Exit lights in the theatre had burned out. I spoke to my primary housemanager reminded her to look out for those types of things and put them on a report sheet so I could submit a work order to have them replaced.
I soon came to realize that she and the other house managers forgot the report sheets were there. Since giving my reminder I have received report after report that have essentially painted a picture of renters who were not holding up their end of the contract in relation to front of house activities. And, of course, on further investigation I discovered that these problems stretched back for some time prior to this zealous surge of reporting. For some reason the house managers decided to keep their tortured experiences to themselves.
Discussing these problems and potential solutions took the better part of two hours at a staff meeting today. Despite the fact renters sign a contract where they have specifically initialed next to the lines outlining their front of house responsibilities and have had us reiterate these specific responsibilities and their importance in a tech meeting a month prior to their event, people are shirking them.
The solution we hope to implement is a multi-tiered approach which include simple steps like more insistent scowling at the pre-show tech meeting and more involved mandatory requirements at later stages. As I mentioned, I have a small staff so the necessity of enforcing these mandatory requirements adds additional responsibilities to the numerous ones we already bear.
I am hoping six months worth (it is only half the renters who are real problems) of growling, scowling and enforcement of strict requirements will ensure that some of these groups are better organized during future visits making for a more enjoyable experience all around.
Over the long weekend I watched the extended movie versions of the second and third Lord of the Ringsmovies. I also watched the "Making of" DVDs for the first movie which was actually twice as long as the first movie itself. Plenty of other folks have talked about the value of making of videos for the performing arts so that isn't my purpose today--At least not directly. I am sure I will circuitously make the case for doing so somewhere along the way.
The thing that was most on my mind as I watched the "Making of" DVDs (other than the fact I want to move to New Zealand) was how speculative making a movie is. As I watched the producers, directors and designers discuss all the concept art, storyboarding, computer rendering, writing, modeling making, location excavation and manufacturing that went on for years before shooting even began all I could think about was the money that was being spent without any income being generated.
Not long afterward, I decided the movie could now probably single-handedly fund the arts in New Zealand by donating half the sketches and cast off paraphenalia to charity auctions and finance a new movie by selling the other half on E-Bay.
Coming from a world where making slightly more than you spend constitutes a successful season, it is difficult to empathize with an industry that measures their success as making three times as much as they spent. When you think that some of the money is going to finance movies like The Lord of the Rings years before the movie has a chance to make money, it is easiers to sympathize. (When drug companies make the same argument about developing medications to support why I am paying so much for a pill, I am pretty much unmoved though.)
Which is not to say that the chances movie studios take are bigger than performing arts institutions. In some regard it is a matter of scale. A $100,000 loss to a small theatre can be as devastating as a $100,000,000 loss to a movie studio. In a small organization the stakes can seem even larger because you have a more intimate relationship with the people you have to fire if you screw up.
If anything, for all their money and personnel analyzing costs, movie studios are just as apt at making stupendously poor decisions as an arts organization run by someone who has had no experience in the field. Miramax was going to produce the LoTR project originally and wanted it all in one movie. That would certainly have flopped in a HUGE way. Peter Jackson, the director, planned on doing it in two movies but fortunately some sainted man at New Line insisted it be done in three.
So yeah, if you haven't surmised by now, I am a big fan of the books. I don't usually watch the "Making of" portions of DVDs, nor do I in fact own too many DVDs. I don't have much basis for comparison but one of the things that made it easy to like the production segment of the DVD was the fact that Weta Workshop where so many elements of the movie were created ran things economically. Two guys created all the chainmail for the movie linking and soldering something like 12 million links one at a time.
Obviously coming from a performance background I have a frame of reference that accords me a level of appreciation for the hours that were invested in creating items that appeared for 15 seconds on the making of the movie video and was unobtrusive in the movie proper. In some respects it is almost foolish for an arts organization to try to make a behind the scenes video to compete with the splendor of those connected with movies like the LoTR trilogy. (Although a 45 minute piece done by a theatre is probably going to be watched more often than the 5+ hours for the Fellowship of the Ring.)
The other thing I was thinking as I watched the movies is that if the trend of declining attendance at movies continues, within my lifetime I may be seeing campaigns advocating attendance of performing arts events that include movies. I'll bet that just as people today argue that in Shakespeare and Mozart's time live events were raucous affairs, people will point out that a similar environment existed in movie theatres in the early part of the 21st century and that the strictly regimented dress and behavior are unnatural and people should be able to wear whatever they want. (Granted, not a complete parallel with the current situation since many of the first movies in the 20th century had uniformed ushers handing out program books.)
Over a year ago I did an entry on recruited vs. elected board of directors profiling the interesting way Amazing Things Arts Center was approaching the governance of their organization.
I went back to their website to see how things were going and it looks promising. They have a good number of activities and a few classes going on. They have continued with their commitment to transparency by placing an application of a potential director in the governance section of their site.
One of the things I really appeciated when I visited this time was that they wrote to their membership about the possibility of moving in to a local firehouse as a new home. (I believe they are currently working out of a storefront.) I was impressed that they addressed the tough questions of safety in the downtown area. They followed by addressing the fact that the firehouse is in another community while the community they are currently in showed a lot of support in helping them renovate their location over the last year or so. The letter seemed pretty honest and devoid of much spinning of circumstances to conceal unpleasant facts.
At this point the only thing I would fault them on is not listing the names of the board members or administration online. It would help bolster the whole transparency goal if they did. Other than that, I will be coming back periodically to see how things are playing out.
I have been pondering the implications of my post yesterday on the status of arts organizations.
It seems clear that larger arts facilities may find themselves either owned by large media conglomerates or closely associated with artistic offerings over which these large corporations exercise influence. Large facilities may end up affliated with companies like Clear Channel and Comcast just as television stations are with networks and be guaranteed the exclusive right to present specific tours/exhibits in the region.
Smaller arts groups may lose access to these artists altogether, but gain other advantages by exhibiting flexibility. The limited niche appeal of the Professional Amateurs mentioned in yesterday's entry may be a boon for smaller organizations and provide opportunities that hadn't be available in the past. Museums for example, may not have large performance spaces but can certainly host a steady stream of mildly famous people each weekend while attracting attention to their collection. Perhaps a noted online director will screen his film to 100 interested people in the community this weekend and then a singer-songer writer next weekend.
Granted, some museums already do these things. But as the definition of concepts like the process by which one becomes an authority on a subject becomes blurred, so too perhaps will the idea that museums offer one type of recreational activity and film houses and theatres another.
Other than investing in technology appropriate for presenting art whose genesis is virtual, probably the most important element for success will be to include opportunities and floorplans that are conducive to socialization. If I want the experience of staring straight on at a performance framed by the square of a proscenium, I could watch the film or concert on my computer.
The impulse of organizations to add opportunities for socialization to attract younger groups is probably a good one. These initiatives might not currently be jibing easily with the performances with which they are associated. I have a feeling the socialization opportunities are here to stay and the format of the performances are what will begin to change.
Until technology is able to virtually replicate biological responses to environmental stimuli, exploiting the advantages of being physically present will increase in importance as the motivating factor for event attendance. Since the advent of broadcast media and film this has been true. It is just that the increased ability to direct one's experience has started shifting the definition of what these advantages are. Right now I think we are in a transitional period where the validity of the current motivating elements is waning but the emerging elements haven't become defined enough to identify.
Bill Ivey and Steven Tepper had an article in The Chronicle of Higher Education last week (subscription, alas, required) in which they offered two opposing views of what the cultural state of the US will be in the future. Regrettably in their opinion, both visions of the future are not mutually exclusive and will define the new cultural divide. (Edit: It seems there is actually a link to the article that does not require subscription. Hat tip to Artsjournal.com)
The first vision of the future is rather optimistic. As the cost of technology decreases and becomes widely accessible, the ability of people to express and educate themselves has been increasing. The authors cite British social critic Charles Leadbeater who feels the 21st century will be shaped by amateur professionals-"ProAms."
Those pro-ams are people who have acquired high-level skills at particular crafts, hobbies, sports, or art forms; they are not professionals but are often good enough to present their work publicly or to contribute seriously to a community of like-minded artists or creators. Pro-ams typically make their livings in other work but are sufficiently committed to their creative pursuits to view them as a possible second career later in life.
A well-educated populace of amateurs who can converse intelligently with authorities of a field and perhaps even parlay their pursuits into a second career. Not only does technology make it possible for them to indulge their interests, but it enables them to cheaply disseminate their work to others providing for the development of ideas on a scale never before possible. What's not to love about that scenario?
Well, actually, there isn't a lot not to love about that scenario--if you are able to be a part of it. Like all incidents of cultural divide, the separation is mainly a function of the gatekeepers. The new optimistic trend they describe does away with the old gatekeepers for the most part because it allows people to make their own choice about what they want to experience, how long they want to invest processing the experience and in what environment they want to encounter it. The concepts of high and low art have less influence in this situation as do the arbiters of such things.
According to an article in the American Sociological Review by Richard A. Peterson, an emeritus professor of sociology at Vanderbilt University, hierarchical markers of taste have eroded. Today people define their status by consuming as omnivores rather than as snobs. A new kind of cosmopolitanism underlies the mixing and matching of different cultural forms.As an illustration, imagine an encounter between two people on the street: a classical-music lover and a lover of rock music. If you are asked to predict which of them is likely to listen to Latin music, ethnic music, jazz, and blues, who would it be? It turns out that the classical-music fan is much more likely to enjoy those nonelite art forms, according to data from the National Endowment for the Arts' national survey of public participation in the arts. If fact, when you analyze the NEA statistics, the classical-music fan is more likely to listen to just about every genre of music. Today's cosmopolitan consumer culture is not bound by old hierarchies.
The more pessimistic view of the future is all about gatekeepers. Noting the ever increasing consolidation of the media in the hands of fewer and fewer people, many are forecasting a future where the variety of voices one can encounter becomes increasingly narrow. The authors point out that this is not only true in retail stores where only CDs of a limited number of artists might be available, but also in the arts where "small and medium-size organizations are facing competitive pressures from the growing number of big performing-arts centers � cathedrals of cultural consumption that might bolster a city's image, but that bring with them some of the same constraints endemic in the consolidated media industries"
The authors also point out that things are moving from a world where we are no longer purchasing but renting culture.
"A few decades ago, cultural consumption required a small number of pieces of equipment � a television set and antenna, an AM/FM radio, and a record turntable. Now cable television, high-speed Internet connections, DVD-rental services, satellite radio, and streaming-audio services all require hefty monthly fees. Even consumption that feels like a purchase, like an iTune download, is often really a rental..."
According to the authors the new cultural divide will be comprised of those who have the time, resources and knowledge to "navigate the sea of cultural choice" to inform, cultivate and share their cultural lives on one side. Those who lack these things will obviously be on the other side of the divide receiving their culture via tightly controlled media channels.
The authors don't quite know how the developing gap will impact political, cultural, social and communal life in the future. They do ask the question: "Can America prosper if its citizens experience such different and unequal cultural lives?"
I personally don't see that this question has any more validity being applied to the chasm they anticipate than to the divide that already exists. It might involve different segments of the population than the current one does, but perhaps through lack of imagination, I don't see the emerging one being markedly larger or destructive to society than if the old gap endured.
I have finally finished Joli Jensen's Is Art Good For Us? The book isn't really that long. The fact the library let me borrow it for 12 weeks sort of contributed to some procrastination though.
The short answer to the question posed by the title is, yes, art is good for us. However, it is not going to cure the ills of the world any more than studying karate, studying history and going to church is guaranteed to make us better citizens and people. Art is good for us in the same ways all these things, along with sunny days, picnics in the park and puppies licking our faces are good for us. They all have a hand in influencing us in positive directions, but none are guaranteed--alone or together--to make the world a better place.
Reading the book was somewhat like learning the stages of human cognitive and emotional development. As I read I felt as if I were reviewing the evolution of my own philosophy about why people should be attending the theatre. I could see that my own views were moving in the direction Jensen espouses.
One of the things I had never thought about was how much how we view art is tied to democracy. Jensen compares the views of Tocqueville, Walt Whitman, Lewis Mumford and John Dewey in this context. I won't go into how art and democracy are connected in each one's mind, but I will say that it was fascinating having never considered it and leave it at that.
There were four general philosophical view Jensen has identified artists as having between 1910s and 1940s. The first was Renewal-"new art is necessary for a social renaissance." Second is radical view --art as a revolutionary weapon for social change influenced by the rise of Marxist thought. The third was the conservation view of the New Humanists-"art is a repository for higher values to be sustained, protected and judged by standards other than immediate personal or social effect."
The fourth view Jensen identifies rolls the other three into itself. Respectively, the subversion view of the avant-garde movement saw art as "making things better by restoring the world, changing the world, or maintaining the truth of the world" by challenging the status quo.
While she identifies these views as arising at the beginning of the last century, we still see people cleave to them today. This seems especially true of the renewal view where art will provide a refuge from evil commercialism, make babies smarter and remove violence from our schools. Neill Archer Roan had a great blog entry on this subject back in March that I have been waiting until I did this entry to cite.
The book is fairly easy to read but if you only have time or desire to read parts of it, I would suggest the introduction where Jensen lays out her argument, Chapter 3 Art As An Antidote: The Mass Culture Debates and Chapter 4: Art As Elixir: Contemporary Arts Discourse. It is in Chapter 3 that she tackles the ideas that there is high art and low art, art that illuminates and art (commercial/movies/television) devoid of benefit and which validates the mundane.
I have always had a nagging feeling that positioning art as a cure for evils and enhancement of intelligence, etc did it a disservice. I had similar feelings about trying to define where the line between valuable and valueless art was. I could just never figure out how to logically argue my position. Or at least I didn't feel confident enough to do so. Reading this chapter I have a better idea of how.
Part of my position I have already stated--art is like cereal. It provide nutrition for your body, mind and soul as part of a balanced breakfast that includes exercise, good schools, good healthcare, health relationships with family, friends and neighbors. When you go before a governmental body to ask for funds perhaps your position should be that you need funding as an integral part of the healthy mix rather than alone as a better, more powerful cure for what ails you. I blogged on this idea before. Check out the Ben Cameron quote. He says it best.
Another element of my position is no surprise. Adopting a view that art is uplifting and mass media is an opiate of the masses that deceives people into believing their shallow existence is infused with rich experiences is just plain bad public relations. Your disdain for people who place high value on mass media can't help but be apparent in your interactions, atmosphere and advertising.
Of course, you can never completely eliminate a disdainful attitude from your dealings. You just need to minimize the negative vibe you give off. Everyone is incredulous about the absence of something in someone else's life be it lack of: a cellphone, interest in Lost, addiction to Starbucks coffee, a MySpace account, et. al. A sense of exclusivity whets the appetite to belong. The maddening logic comes in that the environment must be inclusive enough to allow everyone to share in the exclusivity.
Yes I am poking a little fun at the current atmosphere. I guess it is my nervous anticipation that I will soon be labeled a freak for my conspicious lack of piercings and tattoos. It doesn't make it any less true that people want to feel this way.
In Chapter 4 Joli Jensen points out some of the downsides to positioning art as a medicine for societal ills. One aspect plays into the medicine metaphor quite well in the form of the old adage that it has to taste bad to be good for you. The value of avant garde art has always been in its power to shock and challenge. Just as consumers are always looking for a more pleasant tasting cough formula, a good portion of the public doesn't want to pay for art that is foul to their senses. Nor do they want to be told that they will be better for it. In a way, like Mother trying to force big spoon of cod liver oil into the mouth, it treats people like children.
There will always be an audience for avant garde art. Like the pain of tattoos and piercings, its benefit is best realized by those who come to it willingly. I was about to say that the audience for avant garde art will probably regrettably be small. As people come to appreciate tattoo art more there might just be renewed interest in avant garde works. Especially if someone can make a connection between being tattooed and an exhibit.
This blog entry, though not much longer than previous entries, has taken me a couple days to write. This is mostly because while I have suggested people read some select chapters, there is value in reading just about all of it. My copy of the book is bristling with Post-It notes marking paragraphs to discuss. I have been attempting to distill concepts and avoid summarizing chapter by chapter which would probably lead to multiple days of lengthy, boring entries devoted to the book. There are a lot of great things to think about so the task of informative compression hasn't been easy.
In the interests of relative brevity, (relative to how much I just threatened to write), I will attempt to tell you why you should read this book. Or at least the intro and chapters 3, 4, and 5.
The purpose of Is Art Good For Us is essentially to tackle the logical fallacies, unsubstantiated claims and ill-serving reasoning employed in the pursuit of arts audiences and funding. In addition to the aspects I have already mentioned, Jensen tackles the whole idea of selling out and how commercial success demotes good art to trash. It is somewhat akin to the idea that it is the journey, not the destination that is important. Art is good as long as you are in constant pursuit of funding. Once you there is a surfeit, you have lost your soul. She quotes from a conference "The Arts and Public Purpose" that noted "audiences did not know or care if a play or opera was fiananced by nonprofit or commercial sources, although that distinction remains important to artists" (her emphasis).
In terms of changing the way the conversation about the arts is conducted, Jensen address the reprecussions and pretty much summarizes what is wrong with the current approach.
"If we gave up notions of art as social medicine, the logic of American cultural and social criticism would become unraveled. The arts must maintain their conceptual distinctiveness so that they can still be invoked as a fudge factor in criticism...""Invoking the arts as a fudge factor also allows us to avoid the hard work of directly defining what we value and what should be done...Current arts discourse allows us to be for all good things, and against all bad things by invoking the presumed good of the arts in opposition to the presumed bad of media, commerce and the marketplace."
"Such a discourse has significant costs. It guarantees that our social criticism is vague, overblown, insulting and impotent. When we discuss our common life, what is wrong with it and what can be done to improve it, we need all the directness, specificity, clarity and compassion we can muster."
The alternative path is encompassed by Dewey's expressive view. It is an approach that includes many of the things I have already mentioned-viewing "arts as forms of social practice; as such the arts share the possibility of all human practice to solve problems and make the world better." Jensen says "Dewey asks us to consider a work of art as something that 'develops and accentuates what is characteristically valuable in things of everyday enjoyment.'"
If you are thinking that this view sounds a cop out that defines everything as art so that it doesn't have to take responsibility for categorizing anything as art or not, I have to agree that I felt the same way. I can see the validity of the argument since I can envision how it can apply even to performing and visual art pieces that seem to invest the least effort necessary to make money. Personally the proliferation of lazily made art ultimately doesn't bother me since it takes little effort on my part to turn my attention elsewhere.
Professionally is another matter. I am not quite sure yet how to shift my perspective and apply it effectively. When I am booking artists should I be selecting performances that I believe contain elements that the greatest number of people will deem "characteristically valuable?" I am pretty sure that it isn't completely constructive if I program artists because I believe people ought to see them and despair that I am surrounded by ignorant louts when no one shows up.
If I invite a group that I am not sure will have wide appeal because I would like to offer people an opportunity to see something from the other side of the world, am I elitist because I readily acknowledge it might not be everyone's cup of tea? If I figure there are enough people interested that I will be able to pay a band, provide my local population and the band an opportunity to interact and don't damn those who didn't buy tickets, it seems like a good thing. But would I have been a better guy if I engaged a different band with the potential of interacting with a larger audience?
When you choose one path you are inevitably discarding at least one other. I can't say the expressive approach helps me judge if I am doing a good job any better than the other one did. Unfortunately, no matter what approach I take, my bosses' judgements of the job I am doing does revolve around numbers.
Like most philosophies, Dewey's sounds good on paper. Practical application is a little more tricky. In truth, I certainly need more time to digest and ponder all the implications of what he says. By most measures, he suggests a healthier approach simply based on the less antagonistic relationship with the public he espouses. It is a little dysfunctional to simultaneously despair that people aren't attending arts events and disdain performances that enjoy the large audiences associated with commercial success.
If there is any criteria by which to measure success in Dewey's view, it is the potency of the relationship that is developed. Art, Jensen says quoting Dewey, "needs to be acknowledged as a form of social relationship, not 'treated as the pleasure of an idle moment or as a means of ostentatious display.'" It seems then the audience member has an equal responsibility to take the experience seriously and contribute to the cultivation of the relationship.
That about does it for the observations I have. As expected the book does a more thorough job explaining how Dewey's position applies to the arts. Lacking the time to read it all, I suggest reading the intro, chapters 3-5 and the conclusion. ;)
A plea to folks who might be tempted since I can't say I know anyone doing this.
Many times granting organizations ask that receipents write to their Congressional delegates to make them aware of how National Endowment funds are being used. Often the granting organization provides a template in order to make it easy for busy arts administrators to get a letter off.
My plea to people is not to use those form letters. Even if you don't think your senator or rep is ever going to read it, there are good reasons to send an original composition. My entry today is actually inspired by a form letter I received in response to my "NEA funding at work" letter. It was signed by an aide who said he would speak to his boss about my missive but the generic tone made me think he says that to all the boys. I could see why it might be tempting to send a template based letter if that is all you could expect in return. With that in mind, I thought it important to say Don't Do It!
First, you shouldn't do it because the granting organization put some effort into securing those funds to pass along to you so you owe them a little effort to help get the money next year. (Even if you just spent hair pulling hours filling out interminable final report forms.) It doesn't take too many people in one district sending in letters before even a lowly intern recognizes that there is a template involved. The effort appears insincere and weakens the case for funding in the future.
Secondly, even if people aren't reading your letters, investing the time writing something real helps you hone your advocating skills on behalf of your organization. This practice is doubly important for people who feel they don't write well. It is good practice communicating in a serious situation and if you can't express what is important about your organization to your senator, you probably aren't doing a good job telling your story in press releases.
The truth is, even if you are getting form letters from your congressman, you never know who is reading them. If you tell a compelling story about why a performance was important to members of the community, you are often telling your delegate why the funding is important to them. A year ago I did an entry on advocacy after seeing Jonathan Katz from the National Assembly of State Arts Agencies speak.
One of the ideas he communicated that I paraphrased was:
"...telling decision makers how helping you will help them. It will come as no surprise that public figures welcome any opportunity to maintain their position by helping their constituencies and increasing their visibility. Everyone essentially wants to be seen as doing good. If their help will help you to empower kids, then show them how it can be done.People want to be loved so if they care about you or if you affect someone who they care about, then chances are they want to do something to sustain that affection."
I know writing a good letter can divert one from the thousand other details demanding one's time. The value in making you a sharper communicator in your advocacy and showing your delegates concrete benefits of the funding may ultimately be more worth your while than spending the same time pouring over balance sheets.
As I drove around last evening pondering my entry on Cool As Hell Theatre podcast's rules for actors, I began to see connections and implications associated with an article I recently read. Salon.com reporter Andrew O'Hehir did a book review of Hello, I'm Special by Hal Niedzviecki. (You have to either subscriber or watch a short ad to read the article.) The book essentially posits that there is a rising expectation by individuals that they are deserving and able to achieve far more than 15 minutes of fame.
"That's his argument in a nutshell: Those of us who grew up in the post-industrial, pop-culture-saturated West (and a whole lot of people who didn't) have been raised to believe that we are unique individuals with special destinies...Stuffed with half-baked philosophies of self-actualization and self-fulfillment, we also believe that we are ourselves primarily or even solely responsible for reaching that destiny..."
Quoting auditioners at a Canadian Idol cattle-call:
"Anyone can become what they want to be," says 16-year-old Brooke. "If you really want to make it there's always a way," says Billy, a 20-year-old house painter.Even the 7,000 or so aspirants who don't make the first cut refuse to act daunted. "This isn't the last of me," one rejected girl tells Niedzviecki. "I know I'm going to be a star. The only person who can make your dreams not come true is yourself." To stop believing in your own specialness, no matter what the evidence, would be to violate the creed of the new conformism. Furthermore, if you fail to realize your dreams -- the same "shared, colonized, implanted" dreams millions of other people are chasing -- the fault must be yours...
The end product of the "new-conformist society steeped in pop," he writes, is a solitary "citizen consumer" who is "passive, focused on the self, willing to work hard to buy the stuff that will make him stand out." If his specialness continues to elude the rest of the world, he "blames himself and turns inward to therapy, image adjustment, altar consultation, yoga" and so on.
I actually read the exact same thing in regard to blaming oneself for not becoming famous in Time back in January in connection with the start of American Idol's 5th season. (Subscription required)
The Salon review points out that people have worried about the issues Niedzviecki writes about for centuries already. I wonder what the impact the preception of easy fame might have on the performing arts and their associated training programs. I bet seeing a relatively untrained person go from audition to finals in the course of a few months has already seen a rise in people getting off the bus in NYC and LA with stars in their eyes.
There have always been a lot of people entering training programs with unrealistic expectations about their careers to follow. I imagine that there might be even more people entering programs thinking they are playing it smart getting trained. After all if the untrained can gain the support and adulation of the nation by making it into the top ten, imagine how much easier it will be for you when you plunk down $50,000 to get the best teaching, training and coaching.
I would be interested to know if anyone associated with a training program or even a performing arts organization has seen a rise in either numbers of students/auditioners/applicants, etc with completely unrealistic conception of how easily success will come to them. (I know educators on all levels have a variation of this problem with students and parents who believe unique specialness warrants everyone in class getting the same grade.)
I would extend the same question in regard to attitude/perception. Perhaps there aren't significantly more people appearing on your door, but do the ones you are interacting with believe their route will be shorter with less dues to pay/shorter time performing for peanuts than they had in the past?
I wonder if high expectations and low tolerance for disappointment is going to rob the arts of some real great talent that doesn't give itself time to develop and come into its own. On the other hand, if training programs can tap into the whole idea that failure is personal responsibility, they might be able to get people to apply themselves.
Though as the article implies, if they don't succeed swiftly enough, they are apt to jump from remedy to remedy in an attempt to gain what seems to come so easily to the Everyman on television.
I don't have a lot of time for the entry I had in mind for today so I in the interests of doing something shorter, I point once again over to Michael Rice at Cool As Hell Theatre. He recently made a podcast about the 10 Laws of Being A Good Actor. They are certainly his personal laws and not always something your acting teacher will tell you. That is what makes them so great. You aren't going to learn how to be a great actor from his 15 minute podcast. He makes some observations I have never heard anyone make and does it from the point of view of a seasoned actor smacking novices upside the head for being silly and self-absorbed.
This is not to say everything he says is equally good. His suggestion about breaking the 4th wall during an audition might backfire on an actor depending on how someone interprets his advice and how the casting people envision the proper way to audition.
His advice about preparing for and executing an audition is fairly sound--especially his point about not sabotaging yourself by apologizing or sighing about your performance. He does a good job of scolding of actors who aren't flexible enough to briefly entertain other approaches and those who can't graciously accept criticism.
The biggest thing Michael has going for him is the way he expounds upon his rules. He is fun, engaging and entertaining. Frankly, the biggest reason I keep coming back is to listen is his cool as hell standard intro to each podcast. (Though be warned his podcasts may contain language some might find offensive.)
Ron Spigelman left a comment about a remark made in a story I linked to in my last entry. I was going to respond in a comment of my own, but the more I thought, the more my thoughts were turning into an entry.
The remark he took exception to was made by an opera student performing for elementary school kids who said "Hopefully, by performing for children, it will be a learning experience and I can take that away to perform for discerning critics."
When I first read the story, I thought it was an unfortunate thing to say because of what it implied about children and their ability to make judgements about opera. And it played into the sterotype (perhaps deserved) that opera people are snobs. Children are discerning. They just use different criteria than adults. (See telling an important story vs. tattling, 3rd para. last week entry.)
The remark also reminded me immediately of an episode of the Bravo channel's Top Chef show. One episode the chefs were told that they were going to prepare food for some of the most discerning eaters around--kids at a Boys and Girls Club. (The host used essentially those terms which is why I immediately made the connection with the CNN article.) The chefs were split into two teams and told they would be preparing competing dishes using monkfish.
Monkfish is not the most attractive looking fish as you can see from the preceding link. The producers of the show played on that by bringing one out, showing the kids and telling them this was what they were about to eat. As you might imagine, there was a resounding "EWWWWWWWWWW."
The chefs thought about what presentation might be most appealing to the children. One team came up with "monkey dogs," pureed monkfish given hot dog shapes and the other turned the fish into nuggets. As I recall, one of the teams colored their applesauce purple to make it appealing to the kids.
What put one team over the top was that they went out and interacted with the kids while they were eating. Only one member of the other team did while his teammates hung back viewing the interaction as pandering to the kids. One of them even commented something to the effect that she wouldn't do the monkfish interpretive dance.
I admit there might have been a little pandering and politicking for the votes they needed for the win on the part of the one team. But chatting with the kids also served to help them get past the fact they were eating an ugly looking fish. In the same manner, arts organizations can help patrons get past awkward situations via interactions that answer questions and allay concerns.
Heck, as much as I don't know about opera, I would rather attend a performance than to be asked to pick out an appropriate wine for a meal. A restaurant with an empathetic and patient sommelier is gonna see a lot of me.
Arts opportunities for school kids isn't just important because it may create a situation where 30 years down the road they may walk in our doors. Kids are willing to talk a whole lot more about what their experience and what they do and don't understand than adults are. In 30 years they will not only be comfortable going to events, they will be comfortable asking questions about things they don't understand--If someone talked to them when they were young and encouraged them to do so.
I don't remember exactly who the group was, but I once had a touring childrens' theatre company come through a place I worked that did a great job with the Q & A session after the show. Performers like these folks get the same questions every show they do: "How come he was so mean?," "I liked the feathers on your costume," "What's Your Name?" "How old are you?" "How do you remember all those lines?"
I stepped in during the last performance they were doing and a 10-12 year old girl mentioned she liked that one of the characters showed signs of turning over a new leaf at the end of the show. The company could have thanked her for the comment and moved on. Instead, one of the actors asked her why it was important to her that he looked like he might change after all the terrible things he had done. The discussion between them started to move into the topics of redemption and forgiveness.
The play was about bullying so I can see why the message that bullies can change their behavior and their victims should be forgiving might be important. What really impressed me was that the girl was asked why that bit of the plot was important to her and that she was given the power to direct the dialogue and state her views on how the world should be rather than the actors coming out with a blanket statement that it is important to forgive and bullies should try to change.
Unfortunately, I didn't realize why I was impressed by the interaction until afer they left so I never got a chance to ask if they always lead discussions in that manner or if it was a happy coincidence. I prefer to think it was planned, of course, and that they would have tackled whatever topic the girl felt was important.
Granted, it takes a skilled person to interact well with young people. While they are willing to discuss their views readily enough, getting them to do so without sounding condescending can be difficult. Just as the chefs had to find a way to prepare monkfish differently for kids than adults, artists have to figure out the best way to approach kids. Revising your approach doesn't necessarily mean you are pandering or dumbing down your product. You can color applesauce purple and it isn't any less nutritious and if you leave the cinnamon and sugar out, coloring it purple isn't going to make it taste any better.
On the flip side, the questions kids and teenagers ask and the comments they make can provide insight into the general areas adults may have difficulty understanding but aren't asking about.
Via CNN today was a story about how a cooperative effort between opera students at Southern Methodist University and Dallas Opera to bring opera and life lessons to elementary school kids.
The partnership goes into the schools with an opera called Red Carnations which deals with the dangers stranger pose as the story unfolds. The teachers are provided with study guides prior to the visit so they can prepare the students for the experience.
Obviously the point is to introduce opera to kids at a young age but I imagine there is also a hope that teachers will see the relevance of opera and the arts as teaching tools.
Though I suppose opera was the downfall of a teacher in Bennett, CO
I read an interesting article from The New Yorker this weekend courtesy of Arts and Letters Daily. At the time it was only of personal interest to me, but as it banged around my brain I realized it obviously had an application to customer and personnel relations as well.
Malcolm Gladwell writes a review of Why? by Charles Tilly which "sets out to make sense of our reasons for giving reasons." According to the book, much of what we say to others depends on our relationship with them and the intent behind our statement. Many times what harms our relationships with others is the use of formula responses rather than telling our story.
An example Gladwell uses is a child telling his mother that his brother has taken a toy. The mother uses the formula response "Don't Be A Tattletale." However, Gladwell points out, mom doesn't hesitate to "tattle" to dad about their son's behavior. Nor would she tell her husband not to tattle if he complained about someone at the office. If the son tells his story to a friend, it is accepted and indeed might strengthen his relationship with his friend in their continuing dislike of the evil brother.
Gladwell also cites an example Charles Tilly gives in relation to marriages.
The husband who uses a story to explain his unhappiness to his wife—“Ever since I got my new job, I feel like I’ve just been so busy that I haven’t had time for us”—is attempting to salvage the relationship. But when he wants out of the marriage, he’ll say, “It’s not you—it’s me.” He switches to a convention.
Like the mother who doesn't deny that her son has been wronged but just wants to bring an end to the interaction, use of convention can erode a relationship with patrons and organization personnel. A box office clerk who tells a ticketholder that they can't exchange or refund the ticket because "it is policy" is an example of harmful use of rote. Of course an expansive explanation might not be constructive either if your reason for the policy is "if we let you do it, everyone else will want to do it too." Trying to elicit sympathy by explaining that your poor venue doesn't have the resources to process both sales and exchanges for everyone will probably just result in a conspiratorial "don't worry, I won't tell anyone" or a plea to make a singular exception.
There probably isn't a generally useful and constructive story to tell customers when refusing to exchange tickets. Tilly's book points out though that you won't use the same story or social convention with everyone. We all know the no refunds or exchanges rule isn't absolute when it comes to long time subscribers or big donors and other people with whom we have established a relationship. In fact, when it comes to ticket refunds, it is the ticket holder, not the organization that is most often using stories to gain empathy from a shared experience-- death in the family, mechanical failure or perhaps weather related complications.
The workplace offers even more opportunities for employing harmful conventions. Mantras of there being no budget for a project (often belied by senior people having things implemented), implication that you are a prole and aren't smart enough to understand and use of buzzwords/phrases like "paradigm," "synergy" and "work smarter, not harder" can have an alienating effect. These are pretty obvious examples so the challenge is to be aware of what subtler things are creeping into your everyday use.
Though it sounds like it, I am not specifically championing political correctness and being nicer to your audience members. There are plenty of other books and articles you can read on those subjects. In fact, if you read the article, you will note that telling your story can be far more manipulative than spouting stock phrases.
What I am attempting to be a proponent of, (along with using your story powers for good), is showing the sincere attempt to maintain/repair your relationships with your constituents. Practice open book management. Involve staff in decisions and in helping to create the organizational story. Instead of trying to get funding by mentioning how the arts improve math and science scores, find stories that illustrate this fact or other improvements to one's life that the arts bring. Someone once told me "people don't give money to organizations, they give money to people." Yeah, its a rote convention, but it is applicable in this case because donors are more apt to give to people they trust and can believe will use their money well.
Until this moment I failed to make the connection, but a great example of the potency of stories can be found today on Adaptistration. Drew points out that there has been a lot of conversation on some of his recent entries well past the posting date. Two of the entries he cites (and an earlier one here with a long discussion that he didn't) are all from his Take A Friend to the Orchestra series. I have been reading his blog for a long time and have never seen so many comments on entries, much less on such a concentration of entries as on the TAFTO ones. I really think this is simply because the entries told stories with which people could identify and then spurred discussion and debate. The conversations would have probably been longer if the entry appeared on a discussion board rather than a blog, the format of which is not terribly conducive to prolonged debate.
The third entry Drew cited today was not related to TAFTO but rather executive compensation. Normally, it might not be the topic of lengthy discussion except that it revisited the fairly well-known (among orchestra people and Adaptistration readers), long discussed topic of former Philadelphia Orchestra Executive Director Joe Kluger and his slightly controversial salary along with some contemplation of what his successor will/should be paid. Kluger's resignation was announced a year ago. Yet, the story is apparently fresh and powerful in people's minds and will provide a lens through which to view the Philadelphia Orchestra under the tenure of his replacement.
I had a meeting with my radio account rep today. We were just talking over how the past season went, what promotions were effective, what type of tie-ins we might do next year, that sort of thing.
One of the things I hadn't been happy about was a web campaign I had tried out. I spent considerable sums each month to have a special page on their website listing my season events. I also had banner and skyscraper ads that popped up on the radio station's homepage which lead to this events listings page.
However, there were a couple problems. First, every time a radio ad ran it told people to go to the radio station page. This was good because their site address is easier to remember for regular station listeners than is my theatre's. Unfortunately, unless they got there at the right time in the rotation, they wouldn't see the banner ads and thus couldn't go to the special page.
They could always see the event listed on the Best Bets section of the website which was prominently positioned. Clicking on the Best Bets link would take them to my website though, not the more expensive page the station was hosting.
The other problem was that the special page and the banner/skyscraper ads were handled by the corporate office 5,000 miles away in Atlanta. When there were problems, and there were quite a few frustrating incidents, it could take days to fix. The worst part was that the problem would repeat itself the next month or next show. I suspected a different person in Atlanta was handling it each time. The Best Bets portion of the site was handled locally and I had few problems with it.
I mention this as something of a cautionary tale for others who may consider similar arrangements. On the whole, I think the special page was a poor use of my money. I had little control of when people would see the page and no guarantee they could find it when the call to action to visit the radio site for more info went out over the air.
People were guaranteed to find the Best Bets link to my webpage on a fairly consistent basis when the call went out. Because that option was more dependable and because I know I can control what people see on my website, I am going to stick with radio ads and Best Bet listing for next year.
I think the banner ad set up does have its uses. There were probably people who visited the radio station's site for some other purpose, saw the banner ads and viewed the information about the theatre and upcoming shows. If I was leaving the same ad up with minor monthly changes or wanted a separate place designed specifically for the radio station's demographic, it would have had some more value.
Because I needed to have it changed on a weekly basis at the height of my season and wanted people to always see my information when they visited with the intent to find it, the special page didn't meet my needs. In the future, I might consider generic (rather than show specific) banner ads that lead back to my website as a tool to generate general awareness of my theatre as people visit the radio homepage.
In many respects, these issues solidified my belief that local control of information is much better than distant control when it comes to customer service. This isn't even just a matter of the local vs. corporate office. There were a number of times this past season that I made changes to our website when I noticed mistakes or wanted to clarify an issue that was generating confused phone calls. I was often thankful that I could effect the changes myself rather than call a web designer to implement them as I had to in the ancient days of the web (1997).
Because you often had to pay a web designer, you might not make small changes or might delay the fixes until you had accumulated enough problems to make contacting her/him cost effective. The ability to improve ones public face numerous times a day is a small blessing with potentially big rewards in my eyes. (Though you may still want to limit your request for updates to once a day lest your web designer strangle you.)
Came across an article today reporting the Rhode Island legislature is considering a bill requiring that breast feeding infants be admitted to theatres for free. The impetus for the bill was a mother who told her representative that "she was required to pay an additional $75 to take her child to a show."
I found the link to the story when I came across a debate of the story on Broadsheet. The debate is interesting to read simply because the commenters aren't necessarily those who visit arts sites and thus offer insight into the minds of potential patrons.
And it turns out that...most of the responses are pretty much what you would find on an arts related site. Generally the responses fall into a handful of categories. Some feel that if you are going to an event costing $75, you should know that audience members will insist on having no potential disturbances at all. There is also the view that exposing babies to loud noises, foul language and adult subject matter is inappropriate.
Some feel that mothers need to escape from home from time to time and should be trusted to handle interruptions are they arise. In opposition to this view were people who said they had never considered even tempting fate and did not ever attempt to bring their children to shows. And there were a couple people who pointed out that parents increasingly seem to show bad/lack of judgement about reining in their children's behavior.
A couple people suggested that theatres build little baby rooms like churches have. The first thing that came to mind was that I didn't know too many venues with the flexibility to knock out seats in a place appropriate for new mothers (not up a lot of stairs). They would have to be non-prime seats with fair sightlines where the room wouldn't obstruct other seats (and was soundproofed like nobody's business). The second thing that occurred to me was that if you have to watch a show through a window frame with the audio piped in, you might as well be watching television for all the experience of live performance you are getting. Of course, that is a matter of an individual's perception.
A related thought that came to mind- I was wondering if there were any venues out there that charged people for bringing "babes in arms" for any reason other than to provide an incentive to leave the child home. Other than that and insuring the child that was supposed to occupy a lap doesn't end up in a seat you sold to someone else, I can't think of any other reason. I imagine that there might be other reasons so I am curious to hear some.
Finally, for those who hate cell phones going off during performances, Marc-Andre Hamelin has created the "Irritation Waltz" which you can hear here courtesy of NPR. (I believe it requires RealPlayer to play.)
