Mitch from McCallum Theatre made some comments on my entry yesterday and said something at the end which I thought would be the basis of a good entry.

I am a new reader of your blog. I read it because it was called “Butts in Seats.” I’m not sure that is really what you are promoting.

It is a good observation because while I have been writing about what it is I am doing in emails to people, it has been awhile since I stated it in the blog. Given that projects like this can evolve over time, I thought the start of a new calendar year might be a good time to state what it is I am trying to accomplish at this stage.

The blog isn’t simply about putting butts in the seats. The purpose is to talk about the environmental/financial/social challenges, debates, idealistic conflicts, emerging opportunities, solutions, what have you, inherent to running a not-for-profit arts organization.

For-profits are primarily concerned with putting butts in the seats. They aren’t challenged with the necessity of having to balance serving the community with financial stability. They may decide to make it a paramount concern, but it rarely is part of their founding mission statement and not a statutory requirement of their corporate status.

So what the blog is all about is filling the seats and trying to address all that too.

Mitch is absolutely right in his comments, it is the job of the organization to reflect the desire of the community. There have been shows of certain genres that I have been involved with that appealed to absolutely no one in my organization, from the executive director to the maintenance workers, but filled the house because we booked a high quality act in that genre and the community clearly expressed an interest in that genre. Most of the time your job as a performance booker isn�t to showcase your personal taste even though you are hired based on your good taste.

What I was mostly addressing in yesterday’s entry was the fact people can be convinced a mediocre violinist is talented because they look good in a slinky dress. They rush to buy tickets, but stick up their noses at the great violinist because Eastern Europe dentistry isn’t what it is in West.

As I mentioned earlier, there is an internal debate that typically goes on in a lot of non-profit arts managers minds and hearts as they try to figure a balance between these two violinists. What enhances the community life more–1000 people whose experience is broadened by exposure to a poppy rendition of classical music or 300 people who choose to attend a concert that requires more concentration to understand, performed by a person with great mastery of the subject.

Will any of those 1000 people become interested enough by this first exposure to classical music to try out more challenging fare? If so, then booking that performer is a wise choice as part of serving the community pursuit of personal growth.

If the answer is no and booking the performer actually diminishes people’s respect for classical music but fills the coffers and allows the organization to continue, then the decision to engage the performer is less clear cut.

When I talk about being cynical and elitist, I am actually just trying to show the internal dialogue going on so that readers can gain some insight into the process and perhaps not feel they are alone in these thoughts. It’s no crime to have elitist thoughts as long as you recognize they might unfairly narrow your view of things and seek a more equitable method of making booking decisions. (Consulting with community members whose judgment you trust, for example.)

In the arts there is always going to be the debate between idealism and practicality. You can lean against the stage door and groan “why do people like this crap” but the truth is, you booked the performance despite your personal taste because it isn’t about you, it is about the community you serve.

Many times the value to the show isn’t in whether it is good art. Sometimes you are teaching kids about dinosaurs, sometimes it is about diverting a community’s thoughts from a great tragedy that has struck them, other times it is to create community bonding by getting everyone to bring their awful voices together to sing Christmas Carols.

I won’t make the claim that I am not an elitist in some respects, but I am very much aware of my own pedestrian tastes in many areas including the arts. One of my mottos is “Customers are idiots. I should know, I am one.”

If you read back in the blog a bit you will see that I join other bloggers in acknowledging that many arts organizations take a condescending view of their patrons. Proposed solutions to this include trying to find ways to create an atmosphere in which more effective patron conversations transpire.

These programs aren’t aimed at making people smarter about factual information as much as knowledgeable about how and why choices are made and the relationships between things. Drew McManus’ docent program for example aims to foster discussions about things like the intention behind a particular mix of pieces chosen for a symphony concert. Why Haydn is an important composer is part of this conversation, but it isn’t the conversation.

Mostly why I write this blog is to help me clarify my position on things and give people something to think about to clarify theirs. I hope that someone is reading bits from time to time and it isn’t all just falling into the ether of the net.

Certainly I hope for constructive feedback and criticism because all this blog is really is a less anti-social way to publicize my internal thoughts and discussions than talking aloud in a public place. Talking to myself, no matter how impressed I am with what comes out of my mouth, will only get me so far in developing effective approaches to arts management.

I am getting some great comments on my But Do You Really Think It is Good For You entry. Better than I expected really.

I was going to do a response to some of the comments, but between wanting to wait for more comments to come in (since they seem to be doing so) and finding I wanted to ponder my responses a little more, I have decided to tackle something else.

When I was touching on how difficult it can be to be a blogger and professor and thinking about how people expressed their feelings about the arts, I couldn’t help but think back to my own experience teaching a theatre appreciation class.

I have really enjoyed most of the theatre classes I have taught, but the one class I have felt most intellectually and idealistically torn over was the appreciation class.

Part of the problem I think was the expectations everyone had for it. For most students, it was an easy way to get fine arts credit for their liberal arts degree. Some came to class with an honest desire to learn more about the theatre, most came or were advised to come to get their credit and get out.

For the school the class was a way to keep their dollar per student ratio down. Since most theatre classes are intensive and low student to teacher ratios are necessary, the professor’s salary divided by the number of students in class results in a rather high number. But take a department as a whole, if you offer two or three sections of a class with 400 people in each section, you offset that high salary ratio and make the department look productive.

As horrible as this may sound, remember this is essentially the same way many funding institutions assess the effectiveness of their grants–by number of people served by programs they underwrote. Non-profit arts organizations often take on programs that don’t serve their mission well so that they can get funding to support their core interests. In the same regard, theatre departments create really poor environments for cultivating appreciation in an attempt to justify and maintain their existence in order to pursue their main interests–educating theatre majors. (And one wonders if this is where the future arts leaders learn the lesson of supporting the mission by doing what is not in the best interests.)

Four hundred people in a room isn’t necessarily bad, of course. By many accounts you would call it a nice atmosphere in which to enjoy the arts. But if there are 300 people who don’t want to be there and would rather talk on their cell phones or to each other, you got a pretty crappy atmosphere for the 100 who are interested in the subject matter. One professor and one TA have a hard time competing with and controlling that sort of disinterest.

Asking people to leave ellicited the “I paid, I got a right to be here” response. Challenging people to defend why their dollar was more valuable than the dollar of the people who were interested and wanted to pay attention earned some uninterrupted time. Lack of regard returned in subsequent classes and different arguments for attention had to be used.

Lest people be tempted to look at my resume in an attempt to figure out where I am talking about. Let me simply state, it is like this all over. A similar situation existed where I did my graduate work and where my friends went to school. It probably exists where many readers go/went to school. Certainly it occurs more in large university settings than in smaller colleges just by stint of enrollment numbers.

The thing is, the existence of these classes is also harmful to students pursuing performance as a major. This is most dismally illustrated at college performances said students are required to attend. Because they don’t want to ruin their weekends, these students will buy tickets to the Wednesday or Thursday performance thereby providing the student performers with the harrowing experience of playing to the most unresponsive audience they will ever meet. (While I can’t speak for all fine arts appreciation classes, I have noticed the same trend in music appreciation audiences.)

The Intro students will attempt to arrive late or leave early and get their attendance slip validated. Since the house staff (mostly comprised of students) has been instructed to apply the attendance rules strictly, an antagonistic relationship often developes. The Intro students resents that they are being compelled to attend and the theatre major resents that it is necessary to compel attendance. (If the school doesn’t enjoy strong community attendance, the theatre major may grow to feel this is true for all audiences.)

The real question is a takes the form of a debate of sorts- Are schools failing students by not giving them a more conducive environments in which to cultivate an interest and appreciation of art. OR Are schools wisely only investing an appropriate portion of their resources because so few of the students enrolling in the class have a genuine interest in detailed explorations and discussions of theatre.

Of course, this begs the question, if so few students are interested, why are they required to take the course? The answer most likely is that some group of people somewhere argued that exposure to the fine arts would make students better, more well-rounded citizens.

Which all gets back to the original question–is there a better way that makes sense economically and from an education philosophy point of view and creates a positive experience for all?

Is there anyone out there in large schools doing it?