NEA's New Chairman: "Mercurial"

The NEA has a new Chairman: Rocco Landesman. Here is a nice profile of him from the NYTimes.

Highlights of the story for me were the following:

His leadership style: smart, decisive and “a very entertaining person to be around,” but also “mercurial,” “unpredictable” and “an extraordinarily hardheaded businessman.” I'm always interested in leadership style - and particularly like the word "mercurial" meaning "subject to sudden or unpredictable changes of mood or mind; sprightly, lively" when we perhaps typically think of good leaders as the antonymous stable or steadfast.

His branding with a slogan: The new chairman said he already has a new slogan for his agency: “Art Works.” It’s “something muscular that says, ‘We matter.’ ” The words are meant to highlight both art’s role as an economic driver and the fact that people who work in the arts are themselves a critical part of the economy. As for the former agency slogan, “A Great Nation Deserves Great Art,” he said, “We might as well just apologize right off the bat.” Really interesting - illustrating the undertones of a slogan - equating the language of appealing to what we deserve to an apologetic nature.

He must be reading Richard Florida: “When you bring artists into a town, it changes the character, attracts economic development, makes it more attractive to live in and renews the economics of that town,” he said. “There are ways to draw artists into the center of things that will attract other people.”

His money source for projects: Given the agency’s “almost invisible” budget, he said, goals like these would require public-private partnerships that enlist developers, corporations and individual investors. I like this a lot - my fiscally conservative upbringing still makes me question how much public funding should go into the arts - though not the merit of the art or the importance of it finding alternative funding sources than the traditional market provides - so I'm a big fan of private sources (developers/corporations/investors) trading resources for benefit and creating partnerships.

Trouble with Merchandise Sales

I went to Richmond, Virginia, with the NCTA for a couple days last week for planning meetings for the Richmond Folk Festival. While there, we stopped in a local music store that is an old favorite of my co-workers. The store is apparently not faring well, in part due to the economy, in part because CD sales are down due to the popularity of digital music downloading. Josh spoke to someone working there and reported back to the rest of us this fun fact: To compete with the downloading trend, some of the suppliers have been discounting CDs to only $6 or $7 dollars. The result has been an apparent skyrocket in sales, but only in the 80's hair metal band genre.

Next, during one of the meetings, we were discussing how to drive merchandise sales at the festival. We want to use some kind of incentive to encourage the marginal patron to buy. (Those who want to buy already are, those who don't, won't, but we want to capture the people on the fence about it - right at the margin.) Generally, this is done with price discrimination pricing structures - where the front row theater tickets are still $100, but you can sit up in the balcony for just $30 - so you don't lose the revenue of those willing to pay more, but you capture the "maybe" buyer with the incentive of reduced price tickets. Anyway, the problem with these folk festivals is that admission is free, and CD prices are all set by the artists, not within our jurisdiction to offer at reduced prices. One suggestion was made of offering a prize of a complete set of CDs - one from each artist at the festival - to one lucky winner in a contest you were entered to win with the purchase of any piece of merchandise. Not bad. But not sure that's enough to drive sales. Is there a way to offer incentives to marginal buyers to drive sales, without changing prices?

I'm also wondering why some markets can support $20 for an official poster (the Ann Arbor Street Art Fair), and some struggle to sell many for $5 (Richmond Folk Festival). The merchandise is similar - reproduced from original art work with similar appeal. The easy answer would be in the demographic differences between the audiences, which I don't have enough information about to report on, except that attendees of art fairs are there to purchase things, attendees of free music festivals go in without the expectation of purchasing things. But I wonder if it also has to do with the heritage of the event - the art fair being 50 years old, and the folk fest being 5 - and people kind of "wanting a piece" of something with more lineage? Any other ideas?

very sneaky Starbucks

I thought this was really interesting:
Stealth Starbucks: Seattle-based coffee giant opening neighborhood shops in disguise

One Starbucks location "is being rebranded without visible Starbucks identifiers, as 15th Avenue Coffee and Tea. Two other stores in Starbucks' native Seattle will follow suit, each getting its own name to make it sound more like a neighborhood hangout..."

Generally a reputable brand wants to be identified as themselves - their logo is a mark of the quality their consumers have come to expect from their products. Signaling is important here. This is such a powerful influence, we have trademark law to prevent others from using the all-powerful logo.

So what happens when your logo marks your brand so well it becomes a problem, and what it connotes to consumers isn't desirable anymore? Coffee drinkers apparently want a local joint, not big corporation. Can you keep peddling your product, but under a different brand image - not going to the trouble to reinvent your brand - but just covering it up? Will the consumers suspect (as Steve Johnson expects they will) the truth? And will it cause feelings of betrayal - or a realization for the consumer that the brand might be what he actually wanted? Maybe Starbucks will tell us.

the experience of airlines, before you get anywhere near the airport

I stumbled across this guy, who designs websites, and got so angry with his poor experience on the American Airlines website, he critiqued it, redesigned it, and sent them a letter about it. He's a smart guy - he rightly points out that we're at the point with marketing and technology that a poor website design, that does not provide for easy navigation, usability, and sale of services, is beyond useless, but detrimental to a company; it not only limits revenue possibility, but damages the brand.

As a part of my job at the NCTA, I book airline travel for our contract staff, up to 70 flights for a single event. Airlines prices are way down this season - fewer people are traveling for vacation, fewer companies can afford to have employees travel for business. It's not a good time to be an airline.

Curtis points out that "new, young, and innovative" airlines like JetBlue and Virgin America gain repeat business and thus market share by providing an "excellent customer experience."

What is the excellent customer experience? I might argue that once you're at the check in counter, and especially once you're on the plane, the service is all about the same. All the airlines pass out peanuts, and have equally educated pilots and polite attendants - no real difference there. The airline's only real chance to differentiate themselves is before you're provided the service - when you're making the ticket purchase, that is, when you're on the website. They differentiate themselves by how difficult or easy they make this process, and the emotions they inspire when the traveler is making a reservation. Do they feel calm and confident? Or stressed; bogged down with tedious search functions, nebulous options, and unclear pricing? This experience of booking a ticket may turn a consumer totally on, or totally off, to your brand (exactly as Curtis claimed it did for him). And consumers are both emotional and loyal - once they don't get a good feeling from your brand, or don't connect with it as a part of their identity, they'll quickly develop a disdain for it, and probably tell all their friends to do the same.

Who knew we'd come to a point where the actual product we're paying for is all homogeneous. It's the high or low quality of the free experience we get beforehand that determines which brand we prefer. This isn't always true - quality of actual experience certainly counts...sometimes. But more often, it's all in the packaging; the feeling we get when engaging with the company's image.

The essence of programming, and a roadtrip mix

Program is an overused, tired word - anyone can call anything a program. But in the context of the arts, there's a big difference between a quality program and a pointless one, or a season being well or poorly programmed: How well did we really communicate with the audience? Did we do anything to bring new light to the work? Did the art presented mean something together, as a body of work?

A programmer for a presenting arts organization, for an outdoor music festival, say, or a performing arts center, selects work from a variety of sources, to be presented to the public as a collection. A good programmer presents some background information: here's why these works were selected - here's what they mean in context of each other - here is why this work is artistically important, and what we are trying to do for the world by presenting it - here are the themes and ideas that can be extracted from each individually and as a group - and here's what I hope you'll be able to take away from seeing them together. For a producing organization, this function is performed by the artistic director, who selects the work the company will perform that year. At a museum, this job is done by the curator, who selects different individual works and puts them together to create an an exhibit focused on a time period, or theme, or genre.

The important thing, I think, is this: A programmer does not just select random work and set it before the audience, hoping for magical fireworks of understanding, but rather uses his background and expertise to give information, a short, informal education to the audience about the work (plural) and its relevance as a collection.

I went to a concert here in DC of the University of Michigan Men's Glee Club spring tour, in which my brother was singing. I was struck by how extraordinarily well their director, Dr. Paul Rardin, programs and presents the program to the audience. The concert was split into sections, with themes such as "House of God" and "Youth and Pleasure" and "Love and Water" which would otherwise seem nebulous to an audience not well-versed in the music. With Rardin's brief, insightful explanations before each section, however, the audience became privy to the intricacies of sound to listen for, the meaning of foreign-language lyrics, and the connection between the varied cultural traditions from which the songs originated - it was impressive how much meaning was packed into what could otherwise seem to be a simple selection of songs. I could look around and see by the delighted faces responding positively to his witty remarks, many were able to better enjoy and understand the music. A true expert and excellent programmer - who prioritizes not only the music, but equally important, the audience's appreciation for it.

So Rardin being a good example of a programmer, I am truly a lower-end one, but here is my lesser quality example that illustrates my new idea about programming at its simplest:

My mom and I went on a road trip to her home state of Nebraska a few weeks ago to see our family and say goodbye to my grandpa's house. For the twelve-hour car ride west on highway 80, I put together a burned CD for her, made up of songs about "home, travel, and leaving," I called it. Its tone was a solemn one. I pointed out the lyrics to her, "one more song about moving along the highway" in So Far Away, and "Home where my thought's escaping" in Homeward Bound. And as she said, "You know how much I love Carole King!" I said back, "Well, it's my small attempt at programming."

And then it occurred to me, I think the mixed tape (I'm just barely old enough, but I did indeed make mixed tapes in the 90s before CDs came out) is one of the greatest rudimentary programming endeavors that we've all tried our hand at. You put together a collection of carefully selected works with a common theme or story, and hand it off to someone else with a perhaps fumbled explanation, hoping the collective message, if you've communicated it accurately, will be as meaningful to them as it is to you.

Well-informed Giving

I have a few brave friends going into Development, or plainly, fundraising. We've learned both in study and practice, I think, that donors and philanthropists are becoming more hip, more aware, and more investigative regarding the organizations to whom they give their money (and rightfully so!) I was reminded of our discussions about this trend when I stumbled across this website: http://www.charitynavigator.org/. They are non-profit themselves, and have earned numerous accolades since their 2001 inception for their endeavors in evaluating and publishing financial health information on charities, to help donors make better decisions. They specifically report on how responsibly a charity functions day to day, and how well it is positioned to sustain its programs over time. There are "top 10" lists of different qualities - some fun ones such as "10 Highly-Rated Charities with Low Paid CEOs" and "10 Charities Drowning in Administrative Costs" (Jobs with Justice, and Boys Choir of Harlem tops this list).

New Radicals

Today, I read about Julia Moulden, who has authored an idea called "New Radicals" about how regular, everyday people can change the work they do to make a living, to help save the world. She alludes to social entrepreneurship, but approaches everyone's ability to give back more broadly. I liked this column, where she poses six questions for "Emerging New Radicals" because as I read them, I found them quite similar to the questions I posed to myself when I decided to go to grad school for arts admin a couple years ago: How can I contribute seriously to the world I am a part of? What do I love to do, what am I good at, and what things meet both qualifications? Now, what do I need to do to get there? Answering these questions for myself keeps me focused. I want to be a festival director; because I believe art and community activity have the ability to greatly influence quality of life for many people; I like to organize, coordinate, think, plan, and execute. A graduate degree will give me good preparation to do these things, in both the title and knowledge it totes. Focusing on these questions also has prepared me with a decent response when people ask, "Arts what? Administration? Is that, like, museums?" I always happily explain, and almost always get, "Wow, what a cool job." I am so very fortunate to have found something I like, I'm decent at, and that makes a contribution.