“Community” ≠ “Constituency.” And it’s certainly ≠ “Audience.” IYKYK.
It’s not altogether clear that nonprofit arts organizations know what “community” means to their organization. They may have a dictionary definition at the ready, or some parsed-out word salad to describe the community of people they seek, but rarely do they describe the community (or communities) that they are attempting to help. Unless, of course, it’s they themselves.
They’re pretty good at that last one, irrelevant though it may be.
Go ahead. Try it. Say it, out loud. What is the definition of “community” to your nonprofit arts organization? It may not be the community to which you claim membership. Or it might.
Doug Borwick has compiled the best meanings of the word. Through his company, ArtsEngaged (yes, another company where spaces between two words is seen as superfluous; hell, I ran ArtsWest in Seattle for years and enjoyed that rather harmless affectation), he has brought people together across the country to discover what arts organizations need to do and why. The following is from a paper penned in 2017 — years before the pandemic — and describes in prescient detail why companies are closing now.
“Nonprofit arts organizations are facing an existential crisis stemming from skyrocketing expenses, rapidly changing demographics, and vastly altered social expectations. The survival of arts organizations hinges on their ability to engage effectively with a far broader range of their communities than has been true in the past. The process by which arts organizations connect with communities is called community engagement.”
So, nonprofit arts leaders and board members, now you have a hint as to whom may actually comprise your particular community. Many believe that “my community” and “my audience” are equivalent terms. They are not. In fact, your current audience may not be a part of your community at all, but instead, a cadre of White, wealthy donors who continue to pay for those Ibsen Festivals, Bartók Marathons, and the mounting of the entirety of Shakespeare’s War of the Roses plays in which all the roles are played by shadow puppets. Or that 10-hour acid jazz musical based on The Sorrow and the Pity. Or whatever your company’s supposed artistic vision may be at the moment.
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On the other end, you may have ambitions to build your community yourself. “We build community” is something found on a great jolly shipload of arts organization websites. It’s an interesting notion that assumes that there is not a community already that requires your assistance. You can and do build a community of artists, fans, and donors. But how does that help stop injustices and provide services to those members of the area who could really benefit from attention?
It really doesn’t. And that’s the thing. Here’s what the IRS says you should be doing as your primary goal. (And, as the arbiter on your company’s existence as a nonprofit corporation, you should probably heed their words.)
“The exempt purposes set forth in section 501(c)(3) are charitable, religious, educational, scientific, literary, testing for public safety, fostering national or international amateur sports competition, and preventing cruelty to children or animals. The term charitable is used in its generally accepted legal sense and includes relief of the poor, the distressed, or the underprivileged; advancement of religion; advancement of education or science; erecting or maintaining public buildings, monuments, or works; lessening the burdens of government; lessening neighborhood tensions; eliminating prejudice and discrimination; defending human and civil rights secured by law; and combating community deterioration and juvenile delinquency.”
And no, a nonprofit arts organization is not a worthy education nonprofit merely by tacking on an education program. Why? Because an education program is better defined by, say, UCLA. It has students, testing, rubrics, experts in subject matter, grading, and a full post-graduate program to help its students gain both employment and expertise in specific subjects. Like a children’s theater program, it takes in tuition, but in return, UCLA offers career trajectories instead of participation certificates. Don’t get me wrong: children’s theatre is fun and can instill some great qualities, but to call it “education” is an insult to every certified, practicing educator.
And with no education testing for adults seeing a season of plays, concerts, or exhibitions (including testing for knowledge gained), you’d be hard-pressed to convince anyone that an arts organization is doing anything but using the loosest, most incorrect definition of “education.” There is just no tangible proof that anyone has been educated about anything if your organization doesn’t measure it.
To do any of these charitable things, you’re going to need not to find a constituency (like an audience), but a community (the underserved in your area). Otherwise, you’ll end up like the Bellevue (Washington) Arts Museum (BAM), which went into receivership recently and blamed its problems on the community.
An art museum blaming the community. What brass balls that takes.
“Earlier this year, the museum launched the SAVE BAM campaign and successfully raised over $350,000 in six weeks. Without the support of the community BAM would have closed much earlier. Unfortunately, this call for support did not successfully engage our community’s largest stakeholders.”
— from the September 4, 2024 letter to the people of Bellevue, Washington
When you don’t help your community, all the contributions, all the work, all the expertise is just…
The Bellevue Arts Museum could have made itself indispensable to the community of Bellevue (a wealthy enclave of sterile buildings and character-free, privileged, and safely aloof businesses, located on the east side of Lake Washington, across from Seattle). It chose instead to build a great big edifice. The kind of soulless building that makes you want to use brooches on your eyes. And built with the same kind of cronyism and nepotistic winks and handshakes that doom most of the arts to be seen as an elitist playground for the hoity-toity.
To make your arts organization indispensable, define “community” as that group of people who need help, where you can do the most charitable good. Otherwise, just be a for-profit corporation and be done with it and let the real charities reap some of the philanthropic money that can go directly to helping those who need it, not just those who want it.
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