Encore

A Time of Risk: Reaching Toward the Unknown

Seismic market shifts invite us to rethink our missions. Are we ready for a world where value is co-created?

by Ben Cameron

National conversations convened by the Doris Duke Charitable Foundation in 2006 and 2007 raised awareness of issues we cannot ignore. These include the impending generational change in leadership, erosion of audiences, the impact of technology on live performing arts, concerns about the increasing dysfunction of the 501(c)3 model, the breakdown of old fundraising strategies, the difficulties of managing boards, and the hunger for new models. All this while arts leaders, increasingly overwhelmed by the time and effort necessary for fundraising, board cultivation, and advocacy, are asking, “Isn’t there another way for us to finance and support the work we are called to do?”

Many of us in the arts community are only beginning to appreciate that we have seen ourselves in service industry terms during a time of “experience economies.” Smart performing arts groups are expanding social lobby spaces, adding coffee bars, engaging in re-branding—all to recognize that we traffic not merely artistic production but a total experience that begins with seeing the first ad, continues through the first call to the box office, and doesn’t end until long after the audience member is home in bed.

But just when we think we are beginning to catch up, the economy has shifted again. Those who wish to survive must think not merely of experience but of participation—an economy where value will no longer be consumed but where value will be co-created.

We are witnessing a veritable tsunami of creative energy unleashed through technology and the emergence of a class of amateurs doing work at a professional level, a group whose work populates YouTube, independent film festivals, dance competitions, and more.

This sense of co-creation is an invitation—an invitation to dismantle irrelevant distinctions between professional and amateur. This is an invitation to dismantle arts education programs and replace them with community engagement programs. This is an invitation to see our mission not merely as creating products to be consumed but as offering experiences that will serve as springboards to our audience’s own creativity. This is a call to see ourselves, not only as producers or presenters, but as activators, engagers, animators of creative energy.

This is scary to contemplate. It causes us to rethink our missions, our relationship with our community, our very reason for being. We must enter into these discussions openly, asking why we should continue to exist today. It is not enough to have a history and recordings and a reputation. What is it in the world that mandates the flourishing of the arts in our communities today?

This examination invites us to be value specific about what we do. Every choral organization needs to be able to answer four questions:

1) What is the value of choral singing for my community?

2) What is the value choral music alone has or fulfills better than anything else?

3) How would my community be damaged if it were abandoned by choral music tomorrow?

4) How might my organization be optimally structured, poised, and focused to be my community’s best conduit to choral music?

This must be a time of risk—a word I use sparingly, knowing that many will equate it with irresponsibility. What I mean by risk is reaching toward the unknown, pushing past our comfort zones, not haphazardly but armed with our best instincts, our history of knowledge, the input of others expert in areas that we ourselves may not be.

Risk is the capacity that lies at the heart of growth and learning. We must recognize that without risk, a business does not grow; without risk, your marriage or partnership will not grow; without risk, the artist—that central agent whose work we all exist to facilitate and present—will be doomed to a life of technical expression that, regardless of competence, will never reach the essence of true artistic expression.

The three greatest regrets of retirees can serve as a bold admonition to us all. When asked what they most regretted about their lives, retirees answered: “We didn’t spend more time in reflective thinking. We weren’t clearer about the purpose of our lives. We didn’t risk more.”

We cannot lead lives or create organizations we will regret.

Author Credit
Larry Passmore has worked for music organizations in southeastern Pennsylvania for 25 years. He sings in the Mendelssohn Club of Philadelphia and the American Boychoir Alumni Chorus, and serves as an officer on the board of directors of Commonwealth Youthchoirs, Inc., which operates Keystone State Boychoir and Pennsylvania Girlchoir.

This article is reprinted from The Voice of Chorus America, Spring 2008. Past issues of the Voice can be ordered from Chorus America by going to the Publications page of our website: http://www.chorusamerica.org/publications.cfm

 


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