Regardless of the elections, the issues haven’t changed for US nonprofit arts organizations. But the stakes are higher than ever.
It’s been a week since election day, and rather than discussing that process, let’s take a moment to congratulate whichever ones of us survived the last couple of years. We may not last through the next four, but at least we’ve gotten this far. And that, dear friends, is something.
After all, this is the least habitable place in our current universe on which to live (except, as Churchill might have said, all of the other ones). Of the billions of life forms that have ever existed on Earth, well over 99% of them are now extinct. Remember the quote we used to describe theater companies that go out of business? “Every Broadway show that has ever been produced has closed, except for the ones open right now.” The same is true, in much grander ways, of life forms on this treacherous blue marble we call home. Extinction is not a bad thing. It’s relatively inevitable, unless, well…
There’s a lot of dumb luck involved in living. I’ll always remember the song that parodied Max Ehrmann’s “Desiderata,” a 1920s-era poem that was adopted by the flower children of the 1960s. The parody, “Deteriorata,” by the National Lampoon, was produced as a song, with the chorus, “You are a fluke of the universe./You have no right to be here./And whether you can hear it or not, the universe is laughing behind your back.” And gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson once said that “Luck is a very thin wire between survival and disaster, and not many people can keep their balance on it.” If that doesn’t describe the difference between being and not being, I don’t know what does.
At the same time, the retort to the National Lampoon, sung in summer camps across America — “We’re here because we’re here because we’re here because we’re here” — now makes perfect sense. After all, there was no instruction manual (all religious texts were, at the very least, scribed by human beings) and there is no purpose for our existence except that which we determine ourselves. We are here, for the most part, because we are here; not as a fatalistic or nihilistic experience, but as an experience intended to generate wonder and anticipation.
For nonprofit arts organizations, the pool in which I swam in for 30 years or so, there is a love for hierarchy — even among the most vociferous of radical artistic leaders. Hierarchy is one method of making order out of chaos and lightens the organizational load. However, hierarchy is, at its heart, a tool of subjugation. “Do what I say because I know more than you.”
Chaos, on the other hand, allows for almost any result — something treasured by the most creative minds among us. So, when hierarchy meets chaos and neither side budges, the friction can cause sparks. Sparks of purpose are reminders that our current universe was created by a bang and a near-infinite number of sparks, the purpose to which we’ll likely never know.
Of course, if only hierarchy wins, there are no sparks. Generally speaking, the larger the arts organization, the more likely that the supposed predictability of hierarchy prevails. It’s a Pyrrhic victory, because the art is highly controlled by agents, marketers, and the influence peddlers on the board and staff. The last bastion of the chaos in nonprofit arts organizations is that which enables a Grand Dilemma, and later, a Grander Compromise:
If Us (the non-artistic taste-makers on the board) make a bargain with Them (the keeper of the artistic chaos) to compel Their creation of Their own, personal “artistic vision,” then Us can control Our status and They will be placated by vainglorious control of others’ artistic exploits and the illusion of being one of Us. Then, when things get out of hand, this bargain dictates that Us fires Them and hires a new Them with the same stipulations.
All of this brings us to this week. As far as the US election is concerned, que será será. As far as your nonprofit arts organization is concerned, ponder this:
- What comprises the nonprofit arts industry?
It is comprised of corporations that present art in some manner in order to achieve a charitable purpose.
- What does “charitable” mean?
“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.” — I.R.S., Section 501, Subsection C, Subsection 3.
- If you believe that your large nonprofit arts organization helps your community, then prove it. Not with gut feelings. Not with employment figures or economic impact. Not with figures on tourism or how the arts beautify our downtowns. And certainly not the idea that the arts infuse our lives with joy. No other nonprofit measures its worth that way.
Help people who need help. Don’t merely provide art to those who pay for it.
Provide paths to justice where inequity exists. Don’t just present a story; it’s not enough.
Educate with your art. Don’t just declaim and think that education is taking place.
Measure your impact. How many people were helped (and in what way)? Don’t just count the number of people who attended; that’s a commercial outcome.
You have no idea if your community was made better off by your company’s work unless you have data to prove it. Charitable data, not commercial or financial data.
Times of uncertainty, chaos, and paralysis beget adventures from those who are determined to make things better. Those people often run charities…like yours. Be a company that makes things better and can prove it to the world. It’s worth it. Otherwise, the National Lampoon was right.
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