Data Is Nice, Stories Are Better

by:

Joe Patti

It is pretty much an accepted truth that if you want to secure funding for the arts from a government entity or foundation, you need to marshal a lot of data to prove you are having an impact, especially an economic impact.

However, in a recent interview Kresge Foundation President & CEO Rip Rapson seems to indicate that story rather than data may be more important in influencing decisions and policy.

Rapson speaks about a conversation he had with former NEA Chair Rocco Landesman about the ArtPlace initiative. (my emphasis)

And I said, well, I agree with that, but how about the data, and how about the quantitative elements of all of this? Isn’t that what will tip the scales?

And he just laughed. He wore these big cowboy boots, and he stood up, and he pounded the floor, and he said, you know what? I walk into every congressional office in the United States House of Representatives, and not one asks me about the data. They all want to know a story about what happened in one of their neighborhoods, one of their communities, one of their cities.

He doesn’t say that data isn’t important. My suspicion is that politicians especially like to have data to corroborate their decisions if anyone questions them. Rapson says one of the goals of ArtPlace is to help discover:

“Is there something between the highly rigorous, systematized generation of data about how many dollars per square inch an arts activity generates and all of these millions of points of light? When are the data important? When are the stories important? How do you aggregate the stories?”

A little later he gives an anecdote that illustrates how people overlook the arts in their lives and just how invested they are in their practice. He speaks of a very conservative wardperson in Minneapolis who thought the arts were a waste of time. (my emphasis)

“He actually hauled me in front of the city council committee to explain why in heaven’s name we would accept a grant like this.

So, I said, well, Walter, could we have the very first conversation in your ward, and he kind of grumbled and said all right, all right. So, we had it. It was at his Ukrainian church where he went every Sunday. We were able to identify the woman who sewed the vestments, the man who had done the mural painting on the altar, the three women, who every year created the Ukrainian Easter eggs. We got the choir director. You get the drift.

And Dziedzic walked in and saw these13 people in his congregation, and I said something to the effect of “I want to introduce you to your arts and cultural community, Walter.” And they all talked about how art became central to the way this Ukrainian church practiced, and of course he was toast; he became the biggest single advocate of how arts and culture sort of shaped community life. Now, I could have brought him all sorts of data, I suppose, but, having him sit with 13 or 14 of his congregation members talking about Ukrainian eggs and choral concerts, was really quite wonderful.

So in trying to convince people of the value of the arts in their lives, it may take focusing on impacts on a very granular level. Not just things that happen in the district or town that they identify with, but how it manifests directly in places they are deeply invested and care about.

A program that served 1000 school kids may not be as important as the joy it brought a single kid.

While the implications of that single sentence could lead to a whole debate about influence, wealth disparities, urban vs rural funding, etc., remember that not all the hearts and minds you need to influence are politicians, funding organizations and individual donors. Just shifting the general perception for a greater number of people in a community can be a victory.

Are You A Cultural Omnivore If You Take Very Careful Bites?

by:

Joe Patti

Here is an interesting insight from Stanford University Graduate School of Business (h/t Marginal Revolution blog). According to some latest research, cultural omnivores may be as rigid in their thinking as those they disdain as monoculturalists. (Though I guess they don’t use that term.)

That is, those dubbed “cultural omnivores” — because they eat Thai for lunch, play bocce ball after work, and stream a French film that night — are the very ones opposed to mixing it up. No hummus on their hot dogs, forget about spaghetti Westerns, and do not mention Switched-On Bach. Those offerings are not considered culturally authentic. They are a hodgepodge to which these folks would likely wrinkle their collective noses — as they did in 1968 when Wendy (nee’ Walter) Carlos electrified J.S. Bach. Today’s cultural elites approve only if the experience is authentic, which means eating pigs’ feet at a Texas barbecue passes the test and slathering a taco with tahini does not.

[…]

Today, a higher status accrues to those who are perceived as open to new experiences, and those who oppose experimentation are dismissed as narrow-minded monoculturists, or worse, rednecks, Goldberg notes. Therefore, the elites resist anything that undermines their identities as social and cultural leaders, and that means they are more likely to maintain boundaries.

So I guess the way to read that is that today’s snobs are just snobby about a wider range of things?

While there are probably boundaries that cultural omnivores maintain, I suspect it isn’t as simple an example of hummus on hot dogs. My guess is that Korean Taco food trucks are acceptable to a wide range of cultural omnivores even though on paper the concept is as strange as hummus on hot dogs.

The article does suggest that there is a small segment of people who are open to change so perhaps they normalize things like food trucks for the wide range of omnivores.

If this research is accurate, the larger question this raises for me is what constitutes an “authentic experience” for cultural omnivores? Recent research cites finding that people want to have an authentic creative/artistic experience.

In the context of the Stanford piece, I become a little more concerned that perception of what an authentic experience is may not match the reality of an authentic experience. (And not only in respect to silly manifestations of preconceived notions of authenticity.)

When a performing arts group presents a chamber music concert in an edgy, new, boundary breaking format, do the musicians need to be conservatory trained or will the music ensemble from the local community college be acceptable?

If you say the former, why does an unorthodox approach require such a high level of training in order to be deemed acceptable? If the effort fails (succeeds), will you be more satisfied with the experience knowing the performers were highly trained?

I do think it is important that people who invest time and study to render an authentic experience of a certain genre or culture be in a position to delineate themselves from people providing a superficial representation of those things and labeling it authentic. Though the discussion of who gets to call themselves authentic practitioners is an entirely different can of worms, especially in regard to cultural and ethnic practice.

But as I am reading the Stanford article, it almost sounds as if it could be just as problematic trying to provide an acceptable authentic experience to people who describe themselves as cultural omnivores as it is to those who consider themselves to be purists of a certain genre of artistic expression.

New audiences may feel the experience is just as elitist when they overhear others expressing disdain for a show they liked as they would when people glared at them for clapping between movements of a musical work.

The Stanford article says Big Data will provide needed guidance, but I am not sure how many arts organizations will have the resources to access and interpret the data effectively. (I would happily be wrong if in 5 years there was an app for that.)

What Does Waning Trust In Non-Profits Mean For The Future?

by:

Joe Patti

A decision by the OneOrlando fund to distribute money they collected directly to the families and victims impacted by the recent nightclub shooting rather than through charities bears watching. Even while groups are calling for the reducing the use of overhead ratio as a measure of a non-profit’s effectiveness, there is increasing pressure to have money only spent for the purpose for which it was given.

According to the NY Times:

With the move, Orlando is the latest to shift away from established charities and opt for direct donations, a move that has become increasingly common, in part because of questions about how some charities use donations.

[….]

“There have been so many scandals we’ve seen after these sorts of situations, so it is a big deal that they’ve bypassed nonprofits because it shows a distrust in how nonprofits are doing things,” said Stacy Palmer, editor of The Chronicle of Philanthropy. “This sends a big message, too, because other cities might decide to use this as a model in the future.”

Mai Fernandez, executive director of the National Center for Victims of Crime, said Friday that the group, as well as some family members, had told city officials that they feared donations from OneOrlando would not get to victims if a traditional nonprofit was placed in charge.

While the motivation for donating money following a tragedy like Orlando is different from supporting arts performance or education programs, it isn’t beyond reason to think people will expect the same type of accountability from arts organizations. In a sense, smaller non-profits suffer for the poor decisions and scandals of larger non-profits like the Red Cross and United Way.

An individual has a right to be concerned about how their money is being spent, but those individual concerns aggregated across hundreds of individuals can serve to paralyze a non-profit as illustrated in a post by Vu Le from two years ago.

Non-profit organizations need to provide greater transparency and communication to meet the donor expectations of greater accountability. I am not sure how to communicate that there is a lot more involved in providing 6-8 year old kids with the opportunity to paint than just handing them the paint.

Do you include pictures of staff members joyfully buying paints and materials a the local arts and crafts store in your newsletter and donor report? Pictures of staff meeting with teachers to develop a unified curriculum of enriching activities? Readers may automatically gravitate to the pictures of the cute kids painting and ignore those of staff members, but maybe the fact that every hour of painting is backed by five hours of prep will slowly sink in.

In the meantime, I wonder if the committee Orlando is putting together to decide how to distribute the $7 million they have collected won’t also eventually come to realize that there is a lot of work involved in effectively and transparently giving away that amount of money. If they don’t end up paying a dedicated staff to help administer the money, they may end up either subsiding the effort through long volunteer hours or enlisting office staff paid by their own businesses and organizations.

Not So Simple As “Just Ask What They Want”

by:

Joe Patti

Seth Godin has a post today that seems like it is written just for arts organizations.  Obviously, that is just my ego that views the arts as the center of my universe talking because the assertion in the title, “You can’t ask customers want they want,” applies to every company.

My first thought upon reading the post was Malcolm Gladwell’s story about how Prego achieved dominance with spaghetti sauce by doing a lot of experimentation with sauces that did not conform to the stated preferences of consumers at the time.

Godin says you can’t make a breakthrough in the product you are offering because customers have a difficult time imagining a breakthrough product. Instead, you have to do a lot of risky experimentation.

You ought to know what their problems are, what they believe, what stories they tell themselves. But it rarely pays to ask your customers to do your design work for you.

So, if you can’t ask, you can assert. You can look for clues, you can treat different people differently, and you can make a leap. You can say, “assuming you’re the kind of person I made this for, here’s what I made.”

There are a lot of little details in there that we have heard before in terms of arts organizations needing to know about audiences, what their impediments to participation are and what stories they tell themselves about the type of person they are.

There is an element of Godin’s post that replicates the “fail early and learn” philosophy being bandied about quite a bit lately.

I don’t have to tell you there isn’t a lot of room in arts organization budgets for experimentation and constructive failure. Alas, to a great degree, that is the only option available any more. As he suggests, experimentation doesn’t have to be scattershot, you can make educated guesses from clues and change the way you interact and execute with different people who use your product/services.

I think that last sentence I quoted emphasizes that not everyone in your community is going to be your market. What you made is only going to connect with a certain type of person. There may be 10,000 of that type of person within your reasonable reach or there may be 10.

Goodness knows we think we are making an educated decision about what will appeal to a large number of people only to have our efforts fall flat. Other times, we are delighted to gain an overwhelming response with little effort, but are confounded to figure out how to replicate (or avoid) those mysterious conditions in the future.

You can probably find no greater verification that not everyone in a community is part of the same market by dedicating a month to walking down a supermarket aisle or past a display that you don’t buy from. Every time you go past, notice how much the product is turning over.

Maybe it is the sushi you don’t buy because are not the type to buy sushi that isn’t freshly made moments before in front of you. Maybe it is some strange food from the ethnic food aisle. Perhaps it is the Uncrustables PB&J sandwiches in the freezer case (I mean, how the hell is a PB&J sandwich you have to defrost more convenient than making the sandwich?).

You have a lot in common with thousands of other people in that you both shop at that supermarket rather than another one, perhaps based on your shared self image, perhaps simply due to geography. Yet there are thousands of items in the store that the manufacturers would be happy if you bought, but also understand that you are not in their target market demographic.