Proteges Aren’t Vessels To Be Filled

by:

Joe Patti

Daniel Pink tweeted about a mentorship study conducted by the Kellogg School of Management at Northwestern University this week. While the study was conducted on scientists, I have to think the results apply even more truly for arts professionals because it finds the most successful proteges are those that chart a different path from their mentors.

Basically, the finding are that proteges whose mentors don’t push them to be mini-me clones of themselves (or proteges that don’t style themselves in that manner) are much more successful in the long run. This may seem like a foregone conclusion for arts disciplines which pride themselves on pushing boundaries. In my own career path, I have encountered mentors in acting, tech and administration who had a fairly narrow concept of the path they wanted proteges to follow. While I may be moving into old fogey-hood and that may not be as widespread, I get the sense that there are still people who demand a strict adherence to their guidance.

But new research from Brian Uzzi, a professor of management and organizations at the Kellogg School, shows that mentorship is indeed beneficial—especially when mentors pass down unwritten, intuitive forms of knowledge.

[…]

What’s more, “mini-mes” don’t necessarily thrive. Protégés are most successful when they work on different topics than their mentors.

For many of us, that’s a new way of thinking about mentorship. “People almost always think of the mentor as the really active element. The mentee is the passive element, absorbing the mentor’s knowledge,” Uzzi says. “Some of that’s true, but it turns out it’s really not a one-way arrow. It’s incumbent upon the mentee to branch out, take their mentor’s tacit knowledge, and do something that breaks new ground. The mentee has a big responsibility for their own success.”

The researchers were careful to study the mentor-protege relationships that existed before the mentor won a big prize. Obviously once someone receives great recognition, they will tend to attract the interest of many more highly skilled people from which they could chose proteges. In the study they compared proteges of pre-prize winners with those of people who didn’t receive a prize for their work.

In the short term, proteges of non-prize winners received more accolades, but in the long term, those that were mentored by future-prize winners had even greater success. The most successful proteges of all are those who worked with future prize winners and then went on to work in a different subject area from their mentor.

They attribute this arc to the fact that future prize winners need to do more basic work upon which to ground new progress so their proteges will receive recognition later in their careers. Proteges going in new directions from their mentors need additional time to succeed in charting their own path.

Of course, this whole dynamic mirrors the ideal parent-child relationship where the parent wants the child to exceed their achievements.

In addition, Uzzi expresses some concern that Covid-19 is inhibiting the transmission of the unwritten, intuitive knowledge. This is something to think about concerning the arts. It can be a good thing in that it potentially interrupts the transmission of practices we don’t want enshrined like limits on opportunities for under-represented people in all levels of performance, governance and decision making. Obviously it can be detrimental if people have to reinvent or rediscover knowledge that facilitates creation.

Uzzi and his coauthors believe that what’s being passed between future prizewinners and protégés is tacit knowledge. Mentees aren’t just learning concrete skills from their mentors. They’re also picking up how their mentors come up with research questions, how they brainstorm, how they interact with collaborators, and so on—knowledge that is difficult to codify and often learned by doing.

…..Though Lack of Transparency Hinders A Professional From Knowing Their Value

by:

Joe Patti

Perhaps providentially after my post last week about how a professional know their value, I saw a post on HowlRound by Elsa Hiltner which address some of the factors underlying the stereotype of artists being bad with money. Specifically, she feels the lack of transparency about pay/fees contributes to this situation and uses the situation faced by designers as part of her example. She lauds the efforts of a number of job sites that now require pay transparency in listings and points to a crowdsourced spreadsheet she set up where designers record how much they were paid for projects.

Designers often don’t learn how their fees and contract terms might differ from the other artists on board because they aren’t always able to talk with the rest of the production or design team before signing—or don’t even know who else is on the team. Occasionally, contracts forbid talking about pay rates with others, which is illegal.

[…]

Unsurprisingly, artists are held responsible for this state of affairs. Society, and artist themselves, are continuously sold the stereotype that artists are “bad” at money, uncomfortable with talking about money, or not effective at negotiation. This is not rooted in artists’ everyday experiences. Once hired, many are responsible for managing show budgets and most negotiate fees and contract terms, often dozens of times a year.

The idea that artists are “bad” at talking about money or are too concerned with competition or the veneer of monetary success to discuss their income or contracts with each other is a tool used by hiring companies to maintain a power dynamic that favors them.

She addresses the dynamics where artists accept validation as a reward for their work since the pay is so low, but notes that equitable across the organization, even if it is low, is actual validation. It is a sign that the experience you bring to the table is valued on par with those of similar skill and experience in a different department.

She has a whole list of suggestions about how we can do better so take a look at the post.

A Professional Knows Their Value

by:

Joe Patti

Seth Godin offers a pretty good definition of amateur, professional and hack in a recent post. While I haven’t fully considered all the implications of his definition, I feel like it makes the best distinction between professional and amateur I have come across because it avoids explicit or implicit comparisons of quality, dedication, training/education that are often present in discussing these terms.

The amateur contributes with unfiltered joy. There’s really no other upside–create your work because you can, because it helps someone else, because it makes you feel good.

The professional shows up even when she doesn’t feel like it. The professional understands the market, the customer and the price to be paid for work that’s worth paying for. But the professional isn’t a hack.

A hack is a professional who doesn’t care.

If I have one quibble, it is that his definition of professional is tied to economic value of a product. Granted, the classic definition is that amateurs do things for the love of it and professionals get paid, but we all know that often professionals are asked to do things for exposure or told they shouldn’t expect payment for something they enjoy, and that doesn’t make them any less of a professional.

At the same time, I appreciate the way the definition of a professional includes a sense of dedication that goes beyond the love of the creative process and implies the professional has done the work to educate themselves about external factors surrounding their work. There is the idea that one’s work has market value and all the complicated discussions we have about the quality of work having no relation to market price, but also the sense that the professional knows when their work is being devalued.

Godin’s distinction between hacks and both amateurs and professionals is that the latter two groups have a longer view about the role and value of their work in the greater ecosystem:

Serviceable is for hacks. Memorable and remarkable belong to professionals and hard-working amateurs.

Thoughts?

Love-Hate Relationship With Curtain Speeches

by:

Joe Patti

Troublemaker that Drew McManus is, he suggested that as people return to live performances post-Covid, arts organizations should re-think the hallowed curtain speech. He argues that patrons won’t have the patience to endure the lengthy speeches after months of ad free Netflix and Disney Plus watching bliss.

He mirrored his post on Facebook where a lot of people had something to say about curtain speeches.  (So if you have a lot to say on the subject, head over.)

I definitely agree that a lot of people do very long, poorly considered curtain speeches at their events. I try to keep my short and entertaining, but occasionally the stars misalign and it stinks and I resolve to get better.

Let me tell you, I have been to a number of organizations in my time where I wonder if they are investing any effort into trying to get better.  If our expectations are that the performers should be working to be at the top of their game, the staff delivering the curtain speeches should be aiming for the same goal.

I know that some places want to have artists, donors and board members speak so that there is better representation and variety in the appeals and some people will be better than others. In those cases, if you can’t guarantee that the speech is well-rehearsed, the time limit should be strictly enforced.

All this being said, what I feel is going to be most important post-Covid is a sense of reassurance and trust. While many in the Facebook discussion advocated for getting rid of curtain speeches, I wrote about the value of getting up and standing in front of people to assure them that the staff of your venue is taking steps to ensure their health and safety, even if you don’t explicitly say that.  (I quoted someone in a post a few weeks ago that cautioned about leaning in too heavily on safety messaging.)

Depending on the dynamics of your community and audience, delivering the curtain speech while wearing a facemask might be necessary to reinforce and model the expectations you have of audience members.

And as much as anyone is reluctant to have patrons getting in their face, literally or figuratively, with complaints, it may prove cathartic for audience members to vocalize their fears. If you have done a credible job keeping things safe and are able to identify what you can do better, then you just need to have a thick skin.

I am sure it won’t be necessary for some time to remind you that whomever showed up for the performance made a number of conscious decisions to do so, (or at least impulse factored into it much less than before). So perhaps the most valuable part of doing curtain speeches will be thanking people for coming out. I suspect it will take very little effort to make the sentiment sound much more heartfelt than it had in the past.

Even if you are convinced by my argument, if you want to vent about bad curtain speech experiences, head over to Drew McManus’ Facebook post and join the conversation.