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 Arts Transaction Panelists: Brent R. Benjamin, Mara Manus and Wayne Russo Moderated by Mark C. Taylor The following white paper is drawn from the remarks of the panelists and moderator for this session, along with the questions and responses from members of the audience. This document is intended to reflect the variety of viewpoints offered during the discussion, and to frame broadly the issues discussed; it should not be taken as a formal statement of opinion by the panelists. Much like the world of technology, where the debate over free software or free access to news and information has raged for more than a decade, the world of the arts has also been roiled by discussions over money, and whether there are new financial models that will help sustain both arts institutions and the artists themselves in the twenty-first century. At a fundamental level, the question revolves around how audiences, institutions, and artists value the arts—the monetary value they place on it and their expectations for the return they will receive when paying for an artistic experience. The Historical Divide There are two historical issues to address, two contradictory sets of perceptions. The first is that arts organizations—theaters, museums, performing arts companies, etc.—are always on the hunt for money, while those in the art world disdain discussions of money as being degrading to the art itself. The second is that arts organizations are either very rich, with wealthy patrons and deep pockets, or are essentially hardscrabble, living and working hand-to-mouth. Such questions are important because they provide the lens through which arts audiences of all stripes tend to view the institutions they visit, whether they are awed by the architecture or the creative drama of an experience, or skeptical about the institutional solidity of their surroundings. It is the (perceived) historical divide between "art" and "filthy lucre." In fact, the financial picture of arts organizations is not necessarily so stark. While most of the art world centers around non-profit institutions of one kind or another, and certainly most organizations would wish to have the resources of some of their well-known, well-endowed brethren, the United States has proved a fertile terrain for artists and cultural organizations, across the spectrum of financial stability. And, as in the for-profit world, some artistic ventures do not succeed; but many do, and go on to become critical resources in their communities. Audience Perceptions, Audience Realities The reasons behind the success of any artist or institution are often difficult to discern. Certainly the quality of the art helps, as does critical acclaim and popular success. But how much does an audience-driven financial model matter, too? It matters a lot, it seems, but not necessarily along the lines of one specific model. For many institutions the sense that they are sustained by external philanthropists is born out by the facts, and those organizations often play to such perceptions, offering (as in the case of some museums) greatly discounted access to most programs for most visitors, as part of their core philosophy. The theory is not just "If you build it, they will come," but "If you build it, let them in, and show them its value . . .then they will support it based on its value to them and the community." In these cases, the audience-driven business model is still one deeply connected to the organization's philanthropic roots. To others, however, this approach is unworkable—philosophically and financially. The inherent belief in the value of the art being offered seems to demand that anyone engaging with that art must pay for it. This is the model used by most performing arts organizations, as well as many museums: filling seats, at pre-set, per-seat price, helps pay for productions and sustain the arts institutions; ditto for museums packing galleries with as many visitors are possible. Organizations centered on this pay-per-view model do not eschew philanthropic support, they simply view that as another core revenue stream, and one that can comfortably co-exist with paying for art. The monkey wrench in all of these business models is the same one plaguing for-profit commercial entertainment companies: changing modes of engagement by audiences, and changing perceptions of the value of the artistic product. For one thing, it is increasingly common for people to stay home, and to experience the world through their television or computer. Then, add to this the changed economics of the home experience: because much "content" can be seen for free—music or movies can be downloaded or swapped, and even museum collections can be seen through a Web browser—the expenses are limited to the upfront costs of the computer and the low monthly fees of internet or cable access. With no need to leave the house in order to shop or see a movie, the challenge for the world of the (high) arts and culture is to make their case for the value of the "real" experience. If "spectacle" pays—blockbusters, in the form of major exhibitions or high-flying theater with crossover stars—then what becomes of all the art that does not (and should not) rise to this level? And if arts experiences are measured by how much an audience member has to pay, and their perception of the value for their dollar, then what about the art itself? In a world of declining government support and increasing privatization, artistic purity sometimes seems unrealistic and quaint. But that ideal of an unfettered, pure, and elevating artistic experience, which should be available to all, is now integral to the mission statements of arts organizations, many of which were founded in the nineteenth and early twentieth century. Thus, they may need to consider fundamental restructuring of their mission in order to survive, and to ensure that in striving to survive, they do not lose sight of their true bottom line: art, not money. For citation, please reference: http://berkshireconference.org/content/2006-transaction.cfm
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