Go Blue - Fight for the Night - Beat the Irish

It's been literally two years since I posted the original Go Blue design.  But the group planning the student pep rallies at the University of Michigan came back to me this fall and asked for a new design to reflect the rivalry with Notre Dame, to be lived out in the 2011 season.

The final design is above.  It does the following things:
• keeps within the same traditional feel and historic brand image as the first one
• pays heed to the new stadium renovation
• reflects the rivalry
• features the slogan "Fight for the Night" and the block M
• incorporates architectural details from another building on campus (the Martha Cook residence)
• portrays helmets true to form (the "winged" helmet of Michigan and the "gold dome" of Notre Dame should be recognizable to fans)
• uses fonts that are partly familiar and partly new

Again, I'm pleased to report the group was happy with the result.  And it didn't take me quite as many drafts this time around!

Hope to be back to blogging more soon.

Work, work

Since I have last posted about work, I have worked a handful of contracts:  the Miami International Film Festival (twice! 2010 and 2011), Music from the Crooked Road: Mountain Music of Virginia Spring 2010 Tour, Jacob's Pillow Dance Festival, and the MTV National Get Schooled tour they asked me not to post my affiliation with publicly (but hey, it's been a little while?).  Then I went back to the NCTA and witnessed the start of a new National Folk Festival in Nashville, TN.  It's been a busy two years!

I have realized it's difficult to write about relevant issues in the arts management world at the organizations you work, without compromising the privacy of internal affairs, or integrity of external reputation, even if your goal is to comment from the perspective of professional, objective observer rather than employee.  While I always have commentary in my head about how a place is run, I'm not confident it's my place to make it public.  And in some places, it's against my contract, as I've been asked to sign agreements prohibiting any unapproved, public self-publishing about the organization.

At any rate, I would like to continue blogging.  (Is there anyone still out there reading?)  It will have to focus more on design, aesthetic, and notes from the road.  I miss grad school dearly and though I am working in my field, am afraid my arts administration knowledge is waning from its peak.  Do all former students experience this?

Photo is taken from the back of a friend's motorcycle, as we drove past the Jacob's Pillow Dance Festival sign, on the way to swim in a pond on a day off.  The Berkshires were sure a glorious place to work and spend a summer.

Megan Landfair, Harpist

I'm pleased to announce the launch of my talented friend Megan Landfair's website (designed by yours truly!).

She wanted it to be simple, chic, mostly black and white, clean, and effective.  A place to send potential customers to learn more.

We added a hint of color to make it pop, with the overall message being "you're classy, you're getting married, you need to hire me!"

So if you've got a wedding or special event that calls for a harpist, she's your gal!  Honestly, you couldn't ask for someone more down to earth and accommodating to work with.

http://meganlandfair.com/

Tres Jolie Studios

My good friend Megan asked me to design some business cards for her photography studio and food/art blog.  Her beautiful images speak for themselves, so it was really minimal design on my part - but here is the result!

Fenix de los Ingenios website update

We've been up and running for about a month now.  But the artwork for the February concert poster has just gone up!
www.fenixdelosingenios.com

Go Blue, Beat OSU

Oddly, I've done a lot more graphics work for U of M since I've left, than when I was in school there. Currently, I'm working on the design for the Go Blue, Beat OSU game t-shirts. The first design was a retro simple look, with a derived image of the Big House (Michigan stadium for you non-wolverines) that aimed to feel bold, intimidating, yet understated, not flashy, reminiscent of the Roman Coliseum. While they liked the retro look, the resounding feedback was that it did not reflect the rivalry enough. Very true. So I went back to the drawing board. Sometimes it takes seeing one design before you can figure out what's missing to make it your ideal design. I coaxed some commentary out of them, and compiled a list of things they wanted the design to accomplish:

• Clearly brings the rivalry to life
• Goes beyond the basic "college sweatshirt" look
• Feels timeless, sophisticated and/or retro
• Incorporates the "block M" prominently
• Can be printed in a monotone color and still look good
• Can effectively translate to other applications, such as a poster

Design 1 and design 2 are above. I think the group is very happy with the second one. The detailing around the edges is an impression of the frieze work from the arch of the law quad, (off of South U. street) that I extracted from a photo. I try to incorporate details like this into my designs that help them more authentically portray what/who they represent.

Fenix de los Ingenios gets a facelift

I've been putting in a lot of hours this week on a website job. I befriended the lovely directors of Fenix de los Ingenios, an early music ensemble out of Bloomington, Indiana, last year when I designed their season brochure and concert posters and postcards. They are ready to take the plunge of updating their old website, and I am delighted to be asked to do the project. Here is the old site: fenixdelosingenios.com. And below is a sneak peak at what the new design will look like. It's not all built yet, but hopefully within our three week timeline, I'll have it up. More to come!

The Torpedo Factory

There is an old torpedo factory on the waterfront in Old Town, Alexandria, Virginia. Now, pretend you're an arts administrator, and try to imagine what is the best possible re-purposing use of a building like this, provided there is no longer a market for that many torpedos. A non-profit arts center, of course, would be your answer. I visited last weekend, and though the idea was simple, I was really taken with the implementation of it. Its name and logo reflects its original use, and its interior structure has retained much of its original character, as well. The inside space has be split into smaller units that are usually shared by two artists, and used as both work studios and gallery sales spaces. On a Sunday afternoon when I was there, many of the artists were working or selling work in their space.

A few good things happening here:

• An opportunity is created for a conversation between artist and patron; many times a patron is more likely to purchase art, and it means more to them, when they develop a connection with the artist

• Putting lots of artists in one space creates a nice community for the artists

• Putting lots of artists in one space creates a fertile ground for idea exchange and artistic progress, many times resulting in higher quality work

• Putting lots of artists in one space creates a better sales opportunity, as patrons can go and find them all easily. If the artists were spread all over town, people would never make it to all of them in a day.

• Putting lots of artists in one space creates more possibility for exposure to art that a patron would not seek out on his own. Ex. You go to look at the oil paintings, and discover you like ceramic sculpture.

• Provides a lower-cost option for an artist than having his own studio

• Surrounding community probably benefits from having hip cool artists around - people are attracted to the area and generate economic activity in the coffee shops, restaurants, clothing stores, etc. (Though, as a good student of Dr. Rushton, I have to disclaim about the ability to generate an exact price tag for the economic impact.)

• An old building was not torn down so a new one could go up - the old one, full of character, was used for a new purpose, retaining character in the neighborhood, but allowing for new activity to thrive

• Torpedo Factory does the marketing for the group, like an antique mall

• Torpedo Factory is in a prime location in Old Town, and on the Potomac River, that artists probably wouldn't have access to for work spaces otherwise (the views out some of the studio windows are breathtaking)

• Torpedo Factory uses the building for special event rentals, and has a gift shop, for ancillary income. (From this gift shop, I bought an embroidered patch for my backpack. I like souvenirs, and I like to show my support of places doing cool things.)


What are some other benefits we can think of? Or any major drawbacks?







I took these photos during my visit. Yes, I brightened them in Photoshop. Don't judge - I had to - it was dark in there.

Smithsonian packs a (free) party and brings home the bacon

The Smithsonian was a zoo this weekend! (The cultural activity of my Oct 17; I'm almost up to date.) It was rainy outside, the museum was free, and the people came. There were children and strollers and umbrellas and wheelchairs. I was trying to decide if the museum staff was elated or frustrated.



My friend Stacie, who was visiting from out of town, commented that she really appreciated that all the Smithsonian museums are free. I said I definitely agree, but was surprised they were not more aggressive in collecting donations at the door - usually people will give a small amount when enjoying something free (this is how all NCTA folk festivals operate - what we call the "bucket brigade" - where volunteers wander the grounds and collect money in buckets). Maybe wandering is less appropriate in a museum, but they could have large donation signage and containers at the entrances. It occurred to me that maybe they don't solicit individual donations, because they receive a dominant amount of money from the government -- but I checked and there's a donate option on the Smithsonian website. I don't know how much of their income comes from public money versus private contributions, so I looked it up on GuideStar (a great resource). Here's the rundown: Their revenue was just under $493.5 million in 2008. Of this, $129 million was from public support, $119 million was from government contributions, $74 million came from program service revenue, $50 million came from membership, $43 million came from sales of inventory (gift shop, cafe, maybe?), and the rest was mostly split between assets sold, interest on savings, and special events (remarkably small at $262 thousand - recalling to mind a valuable lesson that special events are not all they're cracked up to be, in terms of relative earning potential). Their expenses came in at $406 million, giving them a solid bottom line in the black of about $85 million. So what have we learned? The Smithsonian is financially responsible, and has amazing free museums, with really high attendance, especially on rainy days.

We also ventured into the East building of the National Gallery of Art and perused the contemporary art floor. My favorite viewing was Matisse's Paper Cutouts, on special exhibit, the bright colors of which covered entire walls. He began to make them when he was recovering from surgery and painting was physically difficult.

Photos are of the main hall of the Natural History Museum, and an overhead shot of the Sea Life wing. I took both of these. The one below is me in front of the Smithsonian Castle, taken by Stacie.

Richmond Folk Festival and School Outreach Performances

From October 5-12, I spent a week in Richmond, Virginia working on site at the Richmond Folk Festival. What I had the privilege of coordinating was the school outreach program - for which we sent 6 bands of musicians into 16 elementary, middle, and high schools in the Richmond Public School district. Participants included Debashish Bhattacharya (Indian slide guitar), Jorge Negron's Master Bomba Ensemble (Puerto Rican Bomba Percussion and Dance Ensemble), Khogzhumchu (Tuvan throat-singing), Phil Wiggins and Corey Harris (acoustic blues), North Bear (Northern Plains drum), and Min Ji Kim and Bora Ju (Korean music and dance). It was a fantastic program - the principals all expressed to me how much they value having the musicians come perform for the students. Some crammed their entire school population into the auditorium for the shows - as large as 700 students at one school.

The best I heard back from the musicians were these 3 things:

1. When Debashish came back to the hotel, I asked, "Did the kids seem to enjoy it?" to which he responded in his thick Indian accent "Oh, I had more fun than kids!!" (He good heartedly endured a 6:45 AM lobby call for that performance.)

2. The artist buddy said that the gym/auditorium in which Phil and Corey played had historic hardwood floors, and when Phil made the rich sound of a train chugging on his harmonica, all the kids enthusiastically thump-thumped their feet on the floor in the same rhythm, resonating the feel of a train through the whole room.

3. When we showed the non-English-speaking member of Khogzhumchu that he was on the front page of the Richmond Times Dispatch newspaper the morning following his school performance, he put both hands in the air rock-star style, and said "SUPA-STAH!"

Huge thanks owed to Tim Timberlake and his non-profit JamInc for providing sound and transportation support.

It was a great festival week. And with a heavy heart, my last with the NCTA this season.




Photo at top is of the Virginia Intertribal Drum and Dance group, whose performance I coordinated on Sunday. Second photo directly above is of me and Max, delivering sound equipment in a golf cart.

The Dinner Party

While in New York City over October 3-4, Stephanie and Salina and I went to see Judy Chicago's The Dinner Party at the Brooklyn Museum of Art. A feminist piece from the 1970's that has had difficulty finding a museum home in the past, it was something I didn't know a lot about. Stephanie had done ample research on it previously (I believe in grad school under Dr. Michelle Facos - one of our favorites - at IU). The exhibit space was really well put together; it created an experience that was quiet and reflective, and dark, as you can see from the picture, with the lighting focused on the place settings. And what I thought was unusual for an art museum and contributed particularly to my appreciation and understanding was the contextual information provided. First, to carry around with you, there was a laminate-cards flip book with a brief summary of the accomplishments of each woman whose place-setting graced the table (Virginia Woolf, one of my favorites, was chosen, but many names I did not know. Woolf's place is the pale green one, second on the left in the photo). Second, beside the exhibit room, there were large panels detailing all the research of women's history done to complete the piece. There were benches in front of these, and we sat and read for a long time. Judy Chicago did her job, because I left thinking about my identity as a woman (which I do not often do) and how fortunate I was to have been born in a time period after all the brave women who fought for civility toward and equality for women for so many centuries. Also of note, the Brooklyn Museum of Art's lobby signage reads with specific admission prices. But when you go to pay, they reveal it's a "suggested" donation - and you can pay what you wish or are able. I think there's value to a pay-what-you-can pricing structure, and also a "suggested price" when accepting donations but I'm wondering about the type of research they did to conclude it was the most beneficial structure to maximize patronage. We were there on a Sunday and it seemed quiet.

Working Waterfront Festival

On September 25-27, I traveled with an NCTA co-worker to help out at the Working Waterfront Festival in New Bedford, Massachusetts. It was sunny Saturday and rained hard on Sunday (part of reporting the how-it-went of any outdoor festival inevitably includes a weather report). During the very last dreary hours on Sunday, there was scheduled to be the second performance of the New Bedford Harbor Sea Chanty Chorus. They already had one performance earlier in the day, the festival was nearly empty of its visitors, and the rain location for the concert was in a building a bit off the beaten path; suffice it to say I had low expectations for the turnout. Assigned to serve as the coordinator and presenter, I showed up half hour before the start of the set, prepared to say, "You know, you guys don't have to perform; I'm so sorry to say there may not be an audience to appreciate your songs." I didn't get a couple words into this sentence when they said, "Oh, not to worry! We're used to singing for ourselves! It'll be fine! And someone might show up to listen - you never know!" So they went on, and slowly but surely, people started to trickle in the warehouse. They pulled up chairs and the singers circled around them; an inverted and encompassing experience for listeners. Grandchildren showed up with bright eyes; neighbors came. I sat and listened quietly. They sang about their town, their traditions, the sea, the fishermen, and the Schooner Ernestina that they all volunteer and raise money to restore. They forgot some of the words to their songs, but the inside of the warehouse glowed with their spirit. And this is what it reminded me: festivals have different purposes. The NCTA folk festivals serve to bring artists and types of music to towns that otherise wouldn't be exposed to them; they focus on access and exposure; they bring in something new. The Working Waterfront Festival serves to encourage a community to come together and discuss its working culture, political issues related to commercial fishing, and celebrate its unique identity; it relishes and renews something old. So this is what all people who work in events, festivals, and arts orgs should ask themselves: what is the purpose of this event, who is it really for, and measure its success by how well it serves that purpose and those people. The Working Waterfront Festival left me feeling very satisfied. And I'm not even from New Bedford.

NEA National Heritage Fellowships

Last week, I had the extraordinary honor of participating in the celebration surrounding the National Endowment for the Arts National Heritage Fellowships, where eleven selected folk artists were honored for their contribution to our country's cultural heritage. There was an award ceremony on Tuesday evening, followed by a dinner in the Library of Congress. The honors continued Thursday, with a concert at Strathmore, hosted by NCTA friend Nick Spitzer, of NPR's American Routes. During Tuesday's dinner, each of the fellows stood up and spoke about their work and their heritage.
Every single one of them was incredibly thankful and gracious. A common thread throughout the evening was mention of what exceptional fortune they felt they have had, to come to be in America, be it through their ancestors or their own emigration; as our great country has given them the opportunity and freedom to practice their craft and carry on their tradition, as a true a receptacle for heritages and customs of all people who make this their home. Hearing them each speak was really a treat. Sophiline Cheam Shapiro came out of the Khmer Rouge holocaust to teach classical Cambodian dance to a new generation in California. Teri Rofkar continues a tradition of spruce root gathering and basket weaving from the Raven Clan in Alaska; she shared a story of a basket found recently in an archeological dig near her home that was dated at 5,000 years old, that bore the same pattern of weaving she uses and teaches today. Cowboy poet Joel Nelson stood up and said "This is the second greatest honor I have been given in my life. The first is sitting right over there," refering to his wife Sylvia who works side-by-side with him on their 24,000 acre ranch in Alpine, Texas.
LeRoy Graber was truly a delight, telling a story about two horses, to whom he felt he owed his life, that lead his grandfather through a blizzard to safety, over 80 years ago. His grandfather taught him to weave when he was ten years old. There are wonderful stories from each of the fellows, and I really encourage anyone to listen to their interviews posted on the NEA site. Another highlight for me was the chance to speak briefly to Rocco Landesman, newly appointed NEA chairman, near the end of the evening.

In the photo above, Rocco stands at the podium, the fellows to the left and right of him. The most prominent audience members sitting in front of me are Amma McKen's cheering section (she is on the far right). The second photo is inside the Library of Congress, a stunning backdrop for the evening, just as people come downstairs for dinner.

Banners!

I've been helping the University of Michigan Men's Glee Club, for the last few months, with their graphic design and brand image for their 150th year of existence. The most exciting pieces so far are these banners, currently hanging on 18 lamp posts on and around the campus in Ann Arbor, Michigan. I designed them and sent in the final digital drafts, but haven't made it back to see them in person yet. Fortunately, a photo found its way to my inbox! I'm thrilled - I think they look quite good! They'll be up all school year.


(Photo thanks to the Club, I did not take this one.)

Self Publishing

I came across this website: lulu.com where one can upload their writing, design a book cover, and start selling their own book instantly, without years of publishers reading manuscripts and saying "no thank you" before getting a break. I'm naturally skeptical, as this process bypasses the normal publishing and distribution system. I was taught that consumers view their time, not their money, as their most valuable resource - so they won't sit through the consumption of things they don't enjoy (movies, books, concerts). For this reason, we have gatekeepers - experts in respective fields that produce movies, books, etc, that say red light, green light, on projects depending on their quality and potential to sell well. (Though keeping in mind, "nobody knows," via Rushton and Caves, which is why we have flops sometimes.) Gatekeepers help weed out lesser quality projects from reaching the public, and make it easier for average consumers to find things they enjoy, without having to sort through every artist in a field themselves.

That said, gatekeepers became less important in the music industry, when homegrown bands started uploading their music on the web, sharing it, and experiencing success by the popularity democratically gained. Record labels are still useful, however, for marketing and distribution, and assumption of risk, but the way something becomes popular has definitely changed. I wonder if this could happen next with books. Lulu does rank top sellers right on their front page, so you can buy what other people buy - generally a good indicator you might like something. I guess the question would be, is are major book publishers paying attention? Are they cruising for their next bestselling author on these sites? (And if they bite, does it decrease their risk, because they have evidence this writer is already somewhat popular?) Or will they continue to read manuscripts and find their authors and take risk in the usual way?

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.