The Routledge companion to arts marketing 2013014082, 9780415783507, 9780203748817, 041578350X

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I am delighted to rummage through the intriguing essays in The Routledge Companion to Arts Marketing. As a lover of the arts and a writer in the arts, this volume is like candy to me.Whether you produce, distribute or consume the arts, you will find enlightenment on every page. Philip Kotler, Kellogg School of Management, Northwestern University, USA Cutting edge thought from the undisputed leaders in their field. This text is long overdue and will benefit students and reflective practitioners alike. Adrian Sargeant, Professor, Indiana University, USA The name of this book is well chosen. It is a companion that will help anyone working in the arts go through reflexive thinking about what marketing in the arts really means; it also draws a relationship to arts management and leadership in general. François Colbert, Professor, HEC Montreal, Canada

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THE ROUTLEDGE COMPANION TO ARTS MARKETING

The relationship between the arts and marketing has been growing ever more complex, as the proliferation of new technologies and social media has opened up new forms of communication. This book covers the broad and involved relationship between the arts and marketing. It frames “arts marketing” in the context of wider, related issues, such as the creative and cultural industries, cultural policy and arts funding, developments in the different art forms and the impact of environmental forces on arts business models and markets. The Routledge Companion to Arts Marketing provides a comprehensive, up-to-date reference guide that incorporates current analyses of arts marketing topics by leaders of academic research in the field. As such, it will be a key resource for the next generation of arts marketing scholars and teachers and will constitute the single most authoritative guide on the subject internationally. Daragh O’Reilly is Senior Lecturer in Creative and Cultural Industries at Sheffield University Management School. He is an experienced co-editor of journal special issues, and (with Finola Kerrigan) edited Arts Marketing: A Fresh Approach (Routledge, 2010). He is the author, with Gretchen Larsen and Krzysztof Kubacki of Music, Markets and Consumption (Goodfellow, 2013). Ruth Rentschler is Foundation Chair of Arts and Entertainment Management at Deakin University, Australia. Ruth has published widely in the cultural field including the Cultural and Entertainment Industries Handbook, Shaping Culture, Innovative Arts Marketing, The Entrepreneurial Arts Leader, Creative Marketing and Museum Marketing, to name some of her books. Theresa A. Kirchner is Associate Professor of Management at Hampton University, USA. Her background includes work with nonprofit boards for more than 20 years and corporate positions as Senior Vice President with Bank of America and Principal Consultant with Keane, Inc. Her publications have appeared in the International Journal of Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Marketing, Disaster Recovery Journal, European Journal of Management and Journal of the Academy of Business and Economics.

Routledge Companions in Business, Management and Accounting Routledge Companions in Business, Management and Accounting are similar to what some publishers call ‘handbooks’ i.e. prestige reference works providing an overview of a whole subject area or sub-discipline, and which survey the state of the discipline including emerging and cutting edge areas. These books provide a comprehensive, up to date, definitive work of reference which can be cited as an authoritative source on the subject. One of the key aspects of the Routledge Companions in Business, Management and Accounting series is their international scope and relevance. Edited by an array of well regarded scholars, these volumes also benefit from teams of contributors which reflect an international range of perspectives. Individually, Routledge Companions in Business, Management and Accounting provide an impactful one-stop-shop resource for each theme covered, whilst collectively they represent a comprehensive learning and research resource for researchers and postgraduates and practitioners. Published titles in this series include: The Routledge Companion to Fair Value and Financial Reporting Edited by Peter Walton The Routledge Companion to Nonprofit Marketing Edited by Adrian Sargeant and Walter Wymer The Routledge Companion to Accounting History Edited by John Richard Edwards and Stephen P. Walker The Routledge Companion to Creativity Edited by Tudor Rickards, Mark A. Runco and Susan Moger The Routledge Companion to Strategic Human Resource Management Edited by John Storey, Patrick M. Wright and David Ulrich The Routledge Companion to International Business Coaching Edited by Michel Moral and Geoffrey Abbott The Routledge Companion to Organizational Change Edited by David M. Boje, Bernard Burnes and John Hassard The Routledge Companion to Cost Management Edited by Falconer Mitchell, Hanne Nørreklit and Morten Jakobsen The Routledge Companion to Digital Consumption Edited by Russell W. Belk and Rosa Llamas The Routledge Companion to Identity and Consumption Edited by Ayalla A. Ruvio and Russell W. Belk The Routledge Companion to Public–Private Partnerships Edited by Piet de Vries and Etienne B.Yehoue

The Routledge Companion to Accounting, Reporting and Regulation Edited by Carien van Mourik and Peter Walton The Routledge Companion to International Management Education Edited by Denise Tsang, Hamid H. Kazeroony and Guy Ellis The Routledge Companion to Accounting Communication Edited by Lisa Jack, Jane Davison and Russell Craig The Routledge Companion to Visual Organization Edited by Emma Bell, Jonathan Schroeder and Samantha Warren The Routledge Companion to Arts Marketing Edited by Daragh O’Reilly, Ruth Rentschler and Theresa A. Kirchner

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THE ROUTLEDGE COMPANION TO ARTS MARKETING

Edited by Daragh O’Reilly, Ruth Rentschler and Theresa A. Kirchner

ROUTLEDGE

Routledge Taylor & Francis Group

LONDON AND NEW YORK

First published 2014 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2014 Editorial matter and selection: Daragh O’Reilly, Ruth Rentschler and Theresa A. Kirchner; individual chapters: the contributors The right of the editors to be identified as the authors of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data The Routledge companion to arts marketing/edited by Daragh O’Reilly, Ruth Rentschler and Theresa Kirchner. pages cm. – (Routledge Companions in Business, Management and Accounting) Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. Arts–Marketing. I. O’Reilly, Daragh, editor of compilation. NX634.R68 2013 700.68’8–dc23 2013014082 ISBN: 978-0-415-78350-7 (hbk) ISBN: 978-0-203-74881-7 (ebk) Typeset in Bembo by Cenveo Publishers

CONTENTS

List of figures List of tables Notes on contributors Preface

xiii xiv xvi xxiii

PART I

Macro arts marketing issues 1

Postmodernism and arts marketing Laurie A. Meamber

2

Cultural economics and arts markets Sam Cameron

1 3

12

3 Art, politics, and markets Stevphen Shukaitis and Joanna Figiel

20

4 Arts marketing and ethics: what you can and Kant do Terry O’Sullivan

29

PART II

Artists and their managers

49

5 The artist as marketer and entrepreneur Ian Fillis

ix

51

Contents

6 Arts managers’ career insights and their marketing implications Uma Jogulu and Ruth Rentschler

59

7 The art of marketing arts marketing to artists Suzette Major

71

PART III

Arts organizational management and strategies 8

Organizational identity and marketing in the arts Zannie Giraud Voss and Naomi Grabel

9 Mission statement to mission fulfilment: the role marketing plays Marcus Morgan 10 Traditional vs. entrepreneurial marketing of arts/culture Theresa A. Kirchner and John B. Ford 11 Audience valuation and pricing the performing arts Jennifer Wiggins Johnson 12

79 81

88

99

109

Interactions between, and effects of, government support on fundraising and marketing efforts of nonprofit arts organizations Patricia Nold Hughes and William A. Luksetich

119

13 ‘Walk through the doors. Be our guest’: how important are partnerships to enable multicultural groups to attend arts events? Fara Azmat, Ruth Rentschler and Yuka Fujimoto

132

14 Web strategies for engaging audiences Stephen B. Preece and Jennifer Wiggins Johnson 15 Arts marketing and Web 2.0-based audience development initiatives Anne-Marie Hede 16

17

142

151

Using social media to enhance the customer attendance experience Bonita Kolb

161

Leveraging social media to engage and retain: arts/culture organization donors, members, and volunteers B. Kathleen Gallagher and Jessica E. Sowa

170

x

Contents PART IV

Consumption perspectives

181

18

183

Consuming the arts Gretchen Larsen

19

Consumption criteria in arts marketing Morris B. Holbrook

20 The impact of the arts experience on audiences Jennifer Radbourne 21

22

204

Consumer motivation and the arts: conceptualizing a motivation-benefit model for understanding tourists as audiences Pandora Kay

214

Membership and subscription in the performing arts: what have we learnt during the last 35 years? Alix Slater

233

23 Art collecting as personal and public practice in a digital age Russell Belk 24

194

Gaining deeper insight into audiences and artists: the use of autoethnography in arts research Marta Massi and Paul Harrison

243

256

PART V

The marketing of specific arts

273

25 The books business: fifty shades of grief Stephen Brown

275

26

Film marketing Finola Kerrigan, Andrew Hart and Sumanta Barua

285

27

Fine art marketing and consumption Kate MacNeill and Meaghan Wilson-Anastasios

296

28

Museum marketing: measuring retail performance Sandra Mottner

306

29

Pricing in contemporary museums: the strategic turn Anne Gombault

316

xi

Contents

30 The special challenges of marketing the arts festival Linda Wilks

334

31 The fluidity of value as a social phenomenon in the visual arts market Chloe Preece

344

32 The art fair as a metaphor of the art world Catherine Morel

353

33

Distributing visual artworks: challenges and perspectives Rita Kottász and Roger Bennett

364

34

Understanding audiences and marketing theater Ben Walmsley

375

35 The marketing of orchestras and symphony concerts David Patmore

384

36

393

Creating the opera habit: marketing and the experience of opera Peter Fraser and Iain Fraser

Index

405

xii

FIGURES

Colour plate section to be found between pages 328 and 329 6.1 A matrix approach to arts managers’ careers

63

7.1

Hirschman’s (1983) model of creative orientations

76

9.1

Four characteristics of an effective NPAO to mission fulfilment

90

9.2 The customer exchange relationship between mission statement and mission fulfilment

95

10.1

Heuristic of traditional/entrepreneurial marketing in the context of arts marketing

100

17.1 The social media cycle

175

18.1

185

O’Reilly’s (2011) map of arts consumption literature

18.2 The domain of arts consumption

187

19.1 Typology of customer value: the eight Es

196

20.1

Experience impact zones

212

21.1

Conceptual model of tourists’ cultural experience motivation-benefit process

220

Circular process whereby an artist is constantly constructing and reconstructing their professional and personal identity in line with how they are positioned in the art world

349

31.1

xiii

TABLES

6.1

Summary background information on the participants

63

6.2

Demographic description of the participants

64

6.3

Leadership aspirations

64

6.4

Current career aspirations

68

7.1

Comparison of archetypal and alternative arts marketing topics targeting the ‘apprehensive artist’

75

15.1

Pozible – examples of successfully funded arts projects and rewards/pledges

154

15.2

Opera Australia: ‘What you think?’ blog series

156

16.1

Percentage of audience aged 18–24, attending arts events

162

16.2

Percentage of audience aged 45–54, attending arts events

163

16.3

Percentage of audience by ethnic group, attending arts events

163

17.1

Example of a DIY metric table

177

17.2

Common social media metrics

178

21.1

Summary of art audience motivation literature

215

21.2

Empirical studies of relevance to tourist motivation that incorporate cross-cultural dimensions

218

Empirical studies of relevance to tourist motivation that incorporate tourist benefits

223

21.3

xiv

Tables

28.1 A menu of quantitative measures

309

28.2

Museum store educational performance attributes

313

29.1

Endogenous price fixing: first factor in organizational learning of the strategic role of pricing

320

29.2

Degrees of learning of the strategic role of pricing by country

320

29.3

Pricing adjustments between core and peripheral offers in museums

323

29.4 Access to museums’ permanent collections, free or fee?

325

32.1 The most visited art fairs in 2011

354

32.2

Number of applicants and galleries selected at three top art fairs

357

32.3

Composition of committees at three top art fairs

358

xv

CONTRIBUTORS

Fara Azmat is a senior lecturer in the School of Management and Marketing at Deakin University, Melbourne, Australia. Her research interest focuses on social inclusion, issues of social responsibility, within the framework of sustainability and women entrepreneurship. She has published her work widely in such academic journals as the Journal of Business Ethics, Australian Journal of Management and European Management Journal and has presented at many international conferences. Sumanta Barua is a PhD candidate in Marketing at King’s College London and Teaching Fellow at Royal Holloway, University of London. His PhD is on experiential marketing and consumption experiences of professionals at B2B events and festivals in film industry. Russell Belk is Kraft Foods Canada Chair in Marketing at York University’s Schulich School of Business. His research involves the meanings of possessions, collecting, gift-giving, sharing and materialism and is often cultural, visual, qualitative and interpretive. He has published more than 550 books, articles, chapters, papers and videos and has received the Paul D. Converse Award, the Sheth Foundation/Journal of Consumer Research Award for Long Term Contribution to Consumer Research, two Fulbright Fellowships and honorary professorships on four continents. He is the co-founder of the Association for Consumer Research Film Festival, the Consumer Behavior Odyssey and the Consumer Culture Theory Conference. Roger Bennett is a professor of Marketing and the Director of the Centre for Research in Marketing at London Metropolitan University, UK. His main research interests are in the area of nonprofit marketing, notably issues to do with fundraising, donor behaviour and the development of charity promotional campaigns. Stephen Brown is Professor of Marketing Research at the University of Ulster. His research achievements are modest; his publications languish unread; his books about books are remaindered before publication; and he has received many more brickbats than accolades. However, he ploughs his lonely furrow regardless … Sam Cameron is Professor of Economics at the University of Bradford, UK, and co-editor of the Journal of Cultural Economics. He is the editor of a handbook of leisure economics and xvi

Contributors

the author of books on hate, sin, love and econometrics. He has published a range of academic papers on cultural economics and other topics. Joanna Figiel is a doctoral candidate at the Centre for Culture Policy Management, City University London. Her research focuses on labour issues, precarity and policy within the creative and cultural sectors. She completed her MA at the Centre for Cultural Studies, Goldsmiths. She is a member of the editorial collective of Ephemera: Theory & Politics in Organization. Ian Fillis’s research interests include small business marketing, creativity, arts marketing, research methodology, international and export marketing, e-business and aesthetics. He has published widely in international marketing, entrepreneurship and arts management journals, in addition to a number of books and book chapters. John B. Ford, PhD, is Professor of Marketing and International Business, Eminent Scholar and Director for the PhD in Business Administration program at the College of Business and Public Administration, Old Dominion University, Virginia, USA. His research interests include international advertising strategy, cross-cultural issues in marketing research and nonprofit marketing issues. Iain Fraser is a visiting lecturer at Dundee Business School, Scotland, teaching Marketing. He is co-founder and publisher of the website Opera Scotland and is currently researching and writing a book about Carl Rosa, founder of Carl Rosa Opera. Peter Fraser is Senior Lecturer in Marketing at Hertfordshire Business School, UK, where he teaches small business and entrepreneurial marketing. His research interests also cover arts marketing, particularly opera. He is co-founder and consultant editor of Opera Scotland, the website for listings and performance history. Yuka Fujimoto is a senior lecturer in the School of Management and Marketing, Deakin University. She completed her Honours degree in Management at the University of Queensland and her PhD at Monash University. Her research interests lie in the areas of diversity inclusion, work and community interactions and human-oriented human resource management practices. Her work has appeared in the Journal of Applied Psychology, AsiaPacific Journal of Human Resource Management, Australian Journal of Management and Cross-Cultural Management: International Journal. She has been acting as a reviewer for journals such as Human Resource Management, Academy of Management Learning and Education and Australian Journal of Management and serves on the reviewer panel for the Research and Practice in Human Resource Management Journal. She is also co-author of a human resource management education book which is currently used by over ten Australian universities in undergraduate and postgraduate programs. B. Kathleen Gallagher joined the faculty of the Meadows School of the Arts at Southern Methodist University, Texas, USA, in 2013. She is completing her doctoral studies in Public Affairs. She has also earned an MA and an MBA. Anne Gombault holds a Doctorate in Management Science from the University of Bordeaux, France, and is currently Professor of Organizational Behavior and Management at KEDGE Business School (Bordeaux-Marseille) where she heads the Creative Industries, Culture, Sport xvii

Contributors

Research Cluster and the Chair of Arts, Culture and Management in Europe (ACME) which she founded in 2004; this is an international team of 15 permanent and associate researchers publishing and sharing their knowledge of management of the arts, culture and creative industries in Europe. Her research covers organizational identity, the behaviour and strategy of artistic and cultural organizations, including museums, creative industries in general, heritage, tourism, wines and spirits, and creative regions. She has carried out many research projects for different organizations – these include the Louvre Museum and various cultural organizations, the Ministry of Culture and Communication, regions and cities in France and Europe, and various businesses. Her work has been published in France and internationally. Naomi Grabel is Director of Marketing and Creative Services at Carnegie Hall, New York. She has also worked at Sydney Opera House and Philadelphia’s Kimmel Center. She holds a BA from the University of Pennsylvania and an MFA from the Yale School of Drama. Paul Harrison, PhD, GAICD, is Chair of the Consumer Behaviour and Advertising Unit and Senior Lecturer in the MBA program at the Graduate School of Business, Deakin University. He is also a founding member of Deakin University’s Centre for Sustainable and Responsible Organisations, and leads the Ethical Marketing and Governance research cluster in the centre. He is a graduate of the Australian Institute of Company Directors, and is the immediate past chair, and a current board member, of the Asylum Seeker Resource Centre, and a council member of Australia’s Telecommunications Industry Ombudsman scheme. His research has been published in international journals, newspapers and conferences. Prior to joining academia, Paul was a professional opera singer, performing with the Australian Opera, Melbourne Theatre Company and Victoria State Opera, and an arts administrator working with some of Australia’s largest performing arts companies. Andrew Hart is both a PhD candidate and ESPRC funded Research Assistant in Marketing at the Birmingham Business School, University of Birmingham. His PhD focuses on film marketing and audience consumption, in order to understand how genre and different film types and classifications impact film selection. Anne-Marie Hede is Professor of Marketing in the College of Business at Victoria University, Melbourne, Australia. Anne-Marie’s area of expertise is focused on the intersection of marketing management on consumer behaviour. She has undertaken research on this topic in the context of the arts and culture with a particular focus on events and museums. Her work has been published in international journals, including the Journal of Marketing Management and the European Journal of Marketing, and she has co-edited two books. She is co-editor of the journal Tourism, Culture and Communication, and is an editorial board member of Arts Marketing: An International Journal. Morris B. Holbrook is the recently-retired W. T. Dillard Professor Emeritus of Business at Columbia University in the City of New York, where, from 1975 to 2009, he taught courses in Marketing Strategy, Consumer Behavior and Commercial Communication. His research has focused on communication in general and on aesthetics, semiotics, hermeneutics, art, entertainment, music, motion pictures, nostalgia and 3-D stereography in particular. Patricia Nold Hughes, PhD, is Professor of Economics at St. Cloud State University, Minnesota, USA. She currently serves as Chair of the Economics Department and Director of the

xviii

Contributors

MS program in public and nonprofit institutions. Her research interests include the efficiency of government and nonprofit organizations, compensation and performance in the nonprofit sector, the influence of donors on nonprofit behaviour and the determinants of charitable giving. Uma Jogulu is Senior Lecturer in the School of Business, Monash University, Sunway Campus, Malaysia. Her area of specialty is in the field of intercultural management, specializing in career management. She has an interest in gender studies and role conflict. Pandora Kay (PhD, Victoria University) is a lecturer in Marketing at Deakin University. She has taught at a range of universities in Australia, as well as institutions in Northeast and Southeast Asia. Her research interests encompass consumer and industry supply perspectives of cultural and creative industries, events and experiences. Specific research areas include consumer motivation and behaviour with cross-cultural comparisons, and innovation and creativity in product development. The marketing and strategy implications of these research areas are an ongoing interest. Her work has been published in such journals as Marketing Intelligence and Planning, Journal of Hospitality Marketing and Management and Tourism, Culture and Communication. Finola Kerrigan is Senior Lecturer in Marketing at University of Birmingham. She has published her research on arts marketing and consumption in a range of high quality international journals and is the author of Film Marketing and co-editor of Rethinking Arts Marketing and Arts Marketing. Theresa A. Kirchner, PhD, is Associate Professor of Management with the School of Business, Hampton University, Virginia, USA. Her background includes 20 years of work with nonprofit boards and extensive corporate executive experience. Her research interests include strategic management/marketing of nonprofit arts organizations and organizational business continuity planning. Bonita Kolb, having taught both in the USA and Europe, is currently an associate professor of Business at Lycoming College, Pennsylvania, USA, where she teaches strategy classes. She is the author of four books on marketing and culture. Rita Kottász is a reader in Marketing at London Metropolitan University Business School, UK. As well as undertaking research in the fields of nonprofit, arts and social marketing, Rita has completed numerous studies concerning the marketing of higher education institutions, student retention and progression, and widening participation in post-1992 universities. Gretchen Larsen is a lecturer in Marketing at King’s College London. Her main research interests lie in arts consumption, focusing specifically on the intersection of music, consumption and markets. She is the founding co-editor of Arts Marketing: An International Journal. Gretchen has published her research in several book chapters and in a range of journals including the European Journal of Marketing, Journal of Marketing Management, Journal of Business Ethics, Marketing Theory and the Journal of Consumer Policy. William A. Luksetich, PhD, is Professor Emeritus at St. Cloud State University, Minnesota, USA. His research interests include the economics of nonprofit organizations, cultural economics, the economics of crime, the measurement of economic freedom and its relation to economic welfare, the political and religious determinants of charitable contributions, and the efficiency of sports gaming markets.

xix

Contributors

Kate MacNeill has a PhD in Art History and degrees in Law and Commerce. She is Head of the Graduate Program in Arts and Cultural Management in the School of Culture and Communication at the University of Melbourne where she teaches in the area of art and the law. Dr MacNeill’s research covers a range of areas related to art and the public sphere, leadership and the arts and the legal aspects of creative practices and arts management. She is currently the managing editor of the Asia Pacific Journal of Arts and Cultural Management. Suzette Major is the head of ideaschool at the Eastern Institute of Technology (EIT) in Hawke’s Bay, New Zealand. Suzette has worked in the arts as both an academic and businesswoman for over 20 years and is passionate about arts education as an avenue for assisting artists across all creative sectors to further their creative pursuits. Marta Massi is a PhD candidate in Management at Carleton University, Canada. She is a doctoral graduate of LUMSA University, Italy, and a visiting research associate at Deakin University in Melbourne, Australia, where she conducts research into branding in arts and cultural organizations. She has been awarded a scholarship from the Sauvé Scholars Foundation to work as a research associate at McGill University, Canada and a research fellowship from the Abertis Foundation. Her work has been published in international journals and conference proceedings, including the Economia della Cultura, the Australian and New Zealand Marketing Academy Conference (ANZMAC), the International Conference on Arts and Cultural Management (AIMAC), the Academy of Marketing Annual Conference and the Macromarketing Conference. Laurie A. Meamber is Associate Professor of Marketing, School of Management, George Mason University, Virginia, USA. She is on the editorial advisory board of Consumption, Markets and Culture, and is Regional Editor (North America) for Arts Marketing: An International Journal. Catherine Morel has been engaged in the study of the relationships between art and business for several years, devoting her PhD to art sponsorship. Further to her experience as a faculty member at Sotheby’s Institute of Art in London, she has also developed an interest in the art market and its intermediaries. Catherine is currently the Director of the MA in Creative Industries at Kingston University, London. She is a research fellow with the Chair of Arts, Culture and Management at Bordeaux Management School where she is co-leading a national survey of arts sponsorship in France commissioned by the Ministry of Culture. Marcus Morgan earned his PhD in nonprofit arts management and governance from Deakin University, Australia. He teaches management, understanding organizations’ nonprofit arts board and management governance and qualitative research methods at both the graduate and undergraduate levels. His current interests include nonprofit arts board governance, board behaviour, board and paid staff relations, and qualitative research methods for nonprofit research. Sandra Mottner is Professor of Marketing and Associate Dean of the College of Business and Economics at Western Washington University, USA. Research interests include nonprofit marketing, retailing and pedagogy. Her research has been published in Journal of Business Research, International Journal of Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Marketing, Journal of Marketing Education, Business Horizons, Journal of Arts Marketing, other academic journals and books on nonprofit marketing and museum marketing.

xx

Contributors

Daragh O’Reilly is Senior Lecturer in Creative and Cultural Industries at Sheffield University Management School. He is a co-author (with Gretchen Larsen and Krzysztof Kubacki) of Music, Markets and Consumption, and a co-editor (with Finola Kerrigan) of Marketing the Arts: A Fresh Approach. Terry O’Sullivan is Senior Lecturer in Management and Head of the Department for Strategy and Marketing at the Open University Business School. His research is in the areas of arts and social marketing, and marketing ethics. He is particularly interested in research which has the potential to contribute to policy and practice in marketing. Recent publications include an analysis of debates around advertising and children in contemporary UK society, and the use of social software (such as web forums) in extending the experience of performing arts audiences. He has published in the following journals: the Journal of Marketing Management, Qualitative Market Research, the International Journal of Advertising, the International Journal of Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Marketing, Consumption Markets and Culture and the International Journal of Arts Management. He is on the editorial board of the International Journal of Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Management and is the Regional Editor (Europe) for Arts Marketing, an International Journal. David Patmore has held a wide range of posts in arts organizations in the United Kingdom, covering the fields of artistic and technical direction, planning, funding, government, general management and leadership. In the academic sphere his research has focused upon the linkages between cultural and commercial activity in the recording industry. Chloe Preece is a lecturer in Marketing at the University of Kent. Her research is in the field of marketing, specifically marketing within the arts and creative industries. To date this research has focused on production and consumption issues in the visual arts and how this translates into social, cultural and economic value. Stephen B. Preece is Associate Professor of Policy at the School of Business and Economics, Wilfrid Laurier University, Waterloo, Ontario, Canada. His research interests include strategic management of performing arts organizations, partnerships and collaboration, private sector support, and new media. Jennifer Radbourne is Emeritus Professor and former Dean of the Faculty of Arts and Education at Deakin University, Australia. Her research and consultancy in arts marketing and arts governance has been published internationally. She is on the editorial board of two international journals and has been Chief Investigator on four Australian Research Council grants in the arts. Ruth Rentschler is Professor of Arts and Entertainment Management at Deakin University, Melbourne, Australia. Her area of speciality is in arts leaders’ careers, including those of artists, managers and board members. She has a keen interest in diversity which pervades her work. She has published widely in books, journals and through consultancy reports. She is on the board of the Art Gallery of Ballarat, Multicultural Arts Victoria,VicHealth and the Duldig Gallery. Stevphen Shukaitis is a lecturer at the University of Essex, Centre for Work and Organization, and a member of the Autonomedia editorial collective. Since 2009 he has coordinated and edited Minor Compositions (http://www.minorcompositions.info). He is the author of Imaginal

xxi

Contributors

Machines: Autonomy & Self-Organization in the Revolutions of Everyday Day and editor (with Erika Biddle and David Graeber) of Constituent Imagination: Militant Investigations // Collective Theorization. His research focuses on the emergence of collective imagination in social movements and the changing compositions of cultural and artistic labor. Alix Slater, PhD, has 20 years of experience as an academic, consultant and practitioner. She currently combines a senior lecturer post in the Business School at Middlesex University, UK, and running her own consultancy. In her spare time she is the coordinator of the Membership Management Forum a community of practice of membership managers. Jessica E. Sowa is Associate Professor of Public Administration in the School of Public Affairs at the University of Colorado, Denver. Her research focuses on public and nonprofit management, including organizational performance, collaboration and human resource management. Zannie Giraud Voss (PhD, IAE Aix Graduate School of Management, France) is Professor and Chair of Arts Management and Arts Entrepreneurship in the Meadows School of the Arts and Cox School of Business at Southern Methodist University, Texas, USA, and Director of the SMU National Center for Arts Research. Ben Walmsley lectures and researches in arts management and cultural policy in the School of Performance and Cultural Industries at the University of Leeds. Prior to this, he worked as a producer at the National Theatre of Scotland, before moving to Leeds Metropolitan University as a senior lecturer in Arts and Entertainment Management. Ben is a fellow of the Higher Education Academy, an artistic assessor for Arts Council England and an active member of the Arts Marketing Association and the Academy of Marketing. He has published widely on arts marketing, arts and entertainment management, cultural value and cultural policy, and recently edited an acclaimed book entitled Key Issues in the Arts and Entertainment Industry, which was published by Goodfellow in 2011. Ben is currently evaluating a £1.4m ACE/National Lottery-funded action research project at West Yorkshine Playhouse and a national £2m Transforming Arts Fundraising grant. He was recently awarded an AHRC grant as part of a University of Leeds consortium to explore cultural value as a complex system through a case study of the LoveArts Festival in Leeds. Jennifer Wiggins Johnson is Associate Professor of Marketing at Kent State University, Kent, Ohio, USA. Her research focuses on consumer–organization relationships, consumer helping behaviour, consumption of arts experiences and arts marketing strategies. Linda Wilks ([email protected]) is a research partner with Verlamion Cultural Impacts Analysis. She has published on the social and cultural dimensions of cultural events. Her PhD examined the role of social and cultural capitals at music festivals. She is co-editor (with Greg Richards and Marisa de Brito) of the book Exploring the Social Impacts of Events (Routledge, 2013). Meaghan Wilson-Anastasios, PhD, teaches at the University of Melbourne in the areas of art and the market and cultural economics. Her most recent paper, ‘Joining the dots: Analysing the sustainability of the Australian Aboriginal art market’, was published in Diogenes, UNESCO’s humanities journal. Meaghan co-convened a landmark symposium on the Australian art industry at the University of Melbourne, bringing together expert speakers from academia and the art world. Her research also resulted in a television program, Art For Art’s Sake, that initiated reform to art auction practices. xxii

PREFACE

In a globalised world, where artists, arts marketers and arts organizations all market to consumers, including audiences, sponsors and philanthropists, and governments, arts marketing is under scrutiny more than ever before. However, it is also needed more than ever before, as funding tightens, economic times are uncertain and legislative frameworks change, necessitating a greater focus on the new management, donors scrutinise possibilities more keenly and the arts compete in the wider leisure domain for audiences, as well as staff and volunteers. Within this landscape, nonetheless, the arts play a unique role in serving the public interest. The scope of the arts is wide and complex, encompassing heritage sites, contemporary art, dance, circus, theatre, music, film and the visual arts, to name a few. The arts bring together elements of creativity, heritage, contemporaneity and celebration under policies and legislation that meet public expectations. Hence, our definition of arts marketing is broad, in order to incorporate the interconnections between arts, culture, arts management and arts marketing, where the arts are shaped by the intellectual interests of the community and reflect the belief systems of society (Fillis 2011), in a changing world. The arts reflect systems of production and dissemination of cultural messages through their products and services. Cultural products signify a country’s identity. Those products are created from the imagination, can take the form of artefacts, images, productions, events or installations that create aesthetic images and symbolic meanings for audiences, artists, critics and other actors alike. The arts stimulate the mind and the emotions to varying degrees, the mix being required to be drawn upon by marketers in seeking to stimulate interest in the arts. It is these issues that the contributors to The Routledge Companion to Arts Marketing grapple with. Arts marketing in this volume takes readers on a journey from denial to discovery of the role of audience, but also accountability underpinned by sound marketing approaches (Laczniak and Murphy 1977), which reinforces the balance between product and program, increasing the need for artists and arts managers to have the orientation and skills of marketers (Filis 2011). Arts marketing has only been researched for about 35 years, commencing around 1980. One of our contributors, Russell Belk, was one of the first to assess arts marketing and the consumer focus of the arts, identifying education as a key variable in arts attendance (Andreasen and Belk 1980).

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This is indeed a short time frame during which arts marketing has made an impact. Marketing approaches have been used to increase audience numbers and to encourage, change and expand the organizational roles from custodial emphases to marketing foci (McLean 1997; Gilmore and Rentschler 2002). Hence, arts marketing is developing techniques to help arts organizations and artists sustain themselves. Thus, arts marketing encompasses conceptual and empirical approaches to advancing the scholarship of the field, in a dynamic and changing world, seeking to find the appropriate balance for artists, arts organizations and audiences. In this context, we argue that the arts are an essential component of human society, but artists and arts organizations often struggle to survive and flourish in a dynamic, changing environment. During the past 20 years, with traditional arts audiences spoilt for choice of competing leisure time activities, arts marketing has become essential. Arts marketing is employing new strategies, tactics and technologies to gain, retain and diversify audiences and patrons. The Routledge Companion to Arts Marketing not only addresses the broad and complex relationship between the arts and marketing, it also frames “arts marketing” in the context of wider, related issues, such as the creative and cultural industries, cultural policy and arts funding, developments in a variety of art forms and the impact of environmental forces on arts business models and markets. The arts, in this publication, are defined to include literature/books and high, popular and low arts, including film, performing arts, fine art and music. The methods used by the exemplar authors in this volume span the traditional to the innovative, from online surveys to ethnographies, biographies and web logs, thus demonstrating the insights that academics in arts marketing can provide for The Routledge Companion to Arts Marketing readers. Many of the authors challenge traditional marketing assumptions, acting more as marketing skeptics, using the arts as the means of embracing new concepts to explain how marketing is applied in the arts. With increasing calls for marketing to innovate, this volume responds by linking marketing, arts, creativity and innovation, to varying degrees, through our contributors’ insights. In this way, we continue to broaden marketing beyond its original boundaries into the nonprofit and social domains. Over the past two decades, books and journal articles have burgeoned as this emerging field establishes itself by also now appearing in mainstream marketing conferences as streams of research. The ESRC (Economic and Social Research Council, UK) seminar series Rethinking Arts Marketing (2005–7) was followed by the AHRC (Arts and Humanities Research Council, UK) workshop series on the impact of the arts (2008–9). Recent special issues on arts marketing in Consumption Markets and Culture, European Journal of Marketing, Journal of Marketing Management, Marketing Intelligence and Planning and the International Journal of Culture, Hospitality and Tourism Research, as well as the launch of a new journal, Arts Marketing: An International Journal, in 2010, have added significantly to the body of knowledge on arts marketing. Arts marketing sub-sectors such as this one are able to sustain full-length books, including Film Marketing, by Finola Kerrigan (2009), Music, Markets and Consumption (O’Reilly, Larsen and Kubacki, 2013) and Arts Marketing Insights, by Joanne Scheff Bernstein (2007), which focused on performing arts audience development. These developments in arts marketing scholarship are taking place in Europe, Asia, Australia, the Americas and Africa. This growth has led to the market niche being identified for this book. Our goal for The Routledge Companion to Arts Marketing, is to provide the “go to” source for arts marketing researchers and practitioners who want a comprehensive, up-to-date reference guide that incorporates contemporary analyses of arts marketing topics by leaders of academic research in the field from around the world. It is the single most authoritative, contemporary guide of its kind on the subject and serves as a key international resource for the next generation

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of arts marketing scholars and teachers, complementing and underpinning Routledge’s recent Arts Marketing: A Fresh Approach (ed. O’Reilly and Kerrigan, 2010). Two recent studies, presented separately by the co-editors at the 9th International Colloquium on Arts Heritage, Nonprofit and Social Marketing at King’s College London in September 2010, laid the foundation for this project.The importance of presenting research, discussing its implications and linking research to real world needs of arts organizations is exemplified by this conference and the work presented at it. One of the impacts of arts marketing research is its usefulness to the real world of the arts and the organizations in it. Marketing as a general discipline has been criticised for its lack of connection to the real world (Fillis 2011), making much of its research irrelevant. Curiously, in the emerging field of arts marketing, where arts marketers have to justify their existence more than is the case in the general domain of marketing and marketing research, the link between theory and practice is more strongly held. As co-editors, we represent three continents, and to achieve our goal of situating arts marketing within a wide range of relevant discourses, we developed a list of leading arts marketing researchers in Asia, Australia, Canada, Europe, New Zealand, the UK and the US, and invited them to each write a chapter for this book. We are deeply grateful to the overwhelming support of the academic contributors who have provided a service to the scholarly community by researching, summarizing and synthesising relevant issues, posing and answering key questions at the forefront of arts marketing scholarship, indicating what lies ahead, and suggesting opportunities for future research. The Routledge Companion to Arts Marketing includes five conceptual sections containing 36 chapters written by 50 authors. Each of the chapters provides an authoritative review of the main questions, issues and findings in the relevant domains of the literature, as well as focusing on issues of practice from a scholarly perspective. For some readers, these chapters will serve as an introduction to the topics. For others, they will provide sound guidance on key themes. For arts marketing researchers, they will suggest topics for future inquiry. For all, they should be essential reading on important and innovative topics. The first section of chapters concentrates on macro arts marketing issues. Laurie Meamber reviews scholarship pertaining to postmodernism and arts marketing, as well as the relationships between them. Sam Cameron surveys the field of cultural economics with respect to arts markets and shows that there is a large body of relevant work and helpful empirical tools. Stevphen Shukaitis and Joanna Figiel take a thematic approach to the intersections of politics, arts and markets and show how the relationship between them is one of a composition of forces: forms of labour, political action and social life, all intermingled together. Terry O’Sullivan explores ethical issues in arts marketing and how what arts marketers can contribute to the artistic mission of their organizations in a way which is sustainable, coherent and ethically positive. The chapters in the second section of the book discuss the topic of artists and their managers. Ian Fillis develops and describes a contemporary perspective of the artist as a creator of innovative work through actions as a marketer and entrepreneur. Uma Jogulu and Ruth Rentschler present their innovative research on career insights of arts managers and their marketing implications. Suzette Major proposes that some individual artists, particularly in the traditional fine arts discipline, remain wary of marketing and the degree to which the market should influence the creative process, therefore, requiring arts marketing to be marketed to artists. The third part of the book examines arts organizational management and strategies. Zannie Voss and Naomi Grabel link the mission and organizational identity of arts organizations to organizational image and branding, illustrating that an arts organization’s mission has to be clear, cohesive, compelling and connected to the consumer in order to drive success. Marcus Morgan

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investigates the marketing implications of mission fulfilment. Theresa Kirchner and John Ford explore entrepreneurial concepts and environmental factors which have particular impacts on the arts sector and may influence the arts organization’s choice of traditional and/or entrepreneurial marketing choices. Jennifer Wiggins Johnson analyzes the current research on audience valuation of the performing arts and suggests innovative contemporary pricing strategies and tools that arts managers can use for capturing audience valuations. Patricia Nold Hughes and William Luksetich discuss the impact of government support on nonprofit and donor behaviour and suggest that leveraging theories of nonprofit behaviour and empirical evidence of donor and organization motivation can be useful in structuring more effective financing options and better positioning the organization financially in the face of policy changes. Fara Azmat, Ruth Rentschler and Yuka Fujimoto analyse the inclusive opportunities for engaging diverse audiences in their chapter: “Walk through the doors. Be our guest”, inviting those who rarely if ever attend arts events to become part of the audience. Stephen Preece and Jennifer Wiggins Johnson, present performing arts web-based activities in a conceptual and historical context, consider three strategies for using web-based activities to overcome the unique challenges of marketing the performing arts, and suggest future opportunities for practice and research. Anne-Marie Hede explores Web 2.0-based audience initiatives in four arts organization case studies. Bonita Kolb highlights the decline in attendance of traditional cultural events, explains how changes in communication technology have resulted in an organization’s inability to control its marketing message, discusses the use of social media to produce and share art, and suggests a model for social media use by cultural organizations. Kathleen Gallagher and Jessica Sowa, in Chapter 17, discuss the myriad of available social media tools and how arts organizations are using social media, summarize reasons why and when an arts organization should begin or adapt the use of social media and suggest best practices for leveraging social media. The fourth section of the book addresses consumption perspectives in the arts sector. Gretchen Larsen shows why arts consumption is worthy of examination as a significant and interesting contemporary consumption phenomenon, and how insights from arts consumption can shed light on consumption generally. Building on his axiological typology of customer value, Morris Holbrook proposes that opportunities exist for arts marketers to broaden arts audiences and achieve greater market penetration by leveraging different types of customer value to appeal differently to different segments of consumers, thereby catering to multiple value segments simultaneously. Jennifer Radbourne presents her innovative research on lessons from arts experiences of individuals, presenting a framework on audience engagement. Pandora Kay provides a comprehensive literature review of consumer motivation and the arts. Alix Slater examines what we have learnt during the past 35 years about membership and subscription in the performing arts and what questions remain to be explored. Russell Belk explores, in depth, the value of art collecting in a digital age, providing his usual novel perspective on contemporary marketing issues. Marta Massi and Paul Harrison provide deeper insight into audiences and artists using an ethnographic approach to arts marketing research. The chapters in the fifth part of the book concentrate on marketing in a variety of arts sectors. Stephen Brown reviews the book business’s “fifty shades of grief ” and the implications for book marketing. Finola Kerrigan, Sumanta Barua and Andrew Hart review the state of film marketing theory and offer insights into emerging issues and trends. Kate MacNeill and Meaghan Wilson-Anastasios explore the little-researched domain of fine art marketing and consumption. Sandra Mottner discusses the need for art museums to establish and maintain guidelines for ongoing performance measurement of their entire range of retailing operations, and the assessment of financial and statistical results to influence strategic decisions and allocation of scarce

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resources. Anne Gombault provides an organizational behaviour perspective on pricing in contemporary museums, little understood until now. Linda Wilks shows how the challenges of marketing arts festivals can be theorised in different ways. Chloe Preece discusses the notion of value in relation to visual arts marketing, with particular reference to the artist, the artwork and the artistic career. Catherine Morel examines the art fair as a metaphor of the art world, another domain that has been largely ignored in the literature. Rita Kottász and Roger Bennett consider different perspectives on the challenges of distributing visual artworks. Ben Walmsley focuses on audience and experiential issues in relation to theatre. David Patmore reviews traditional methods of concert promotion for orchestras and concert giving bodies, followed by an examination of the important role of subscription marketing. And, finally, Peter and Iain Fraser discuss the challenges facing opera and how marketing can help to address them. Over 20 years of arts marketing research, the sub-discipline has developed fulsomely. This volume is testament to the development of the field, the number of outstanding scholars conducting research and publishing it, and the contributions of those scholars to the growth of the discipline. The Routledge Companion to Arts Marketing stretches the boundaries of the marketing concept by applying it to this emerging domain. In doing so, it encounters new ways of seeing marketing in the creative services sector of the arts, provides insights into applications that suit the nonprofit world and builds theory by offering opportunities for new research approaches to be published widely. Contributors continue to broaden sources of publication, taking in many regions of the world, to include personal reflections from a diversity of perspectives on the interconnections between arts, culture, marketing and the marketplace.

References Andreasen, A. R. and Belk, R. W. (1980) Predictors of attendance at the performing arts, Journal of Consumer Research 7(2) September: 112–120. Bernstein, J. S. (2007) Arts Marketing Insights. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Fillis, I. (2011) The evolution and development of arts marketing research, Arts Marketing: An International Journal 1(1): 11–25. Gilmore, A. and Rentschler, R. (2002) Changes in museum management: From a custodial emphasis to a marketing emphasis, Journal of Management Development 21(10): 745–760. Kerrigan, F. (2009) Film Marketing. Oxford: Elsevier/Butterworth-Heinemann. Laczniak, G. and Murphy, P. (1977) Marketing the performing arts, Atlanta Economic Review Nov/Dec: 4–9. McLean, F. (1997) Marketing the Museum. London: Routledge. O’Reilly, D., Larsen, G. and Kubacki, K. (2013) Music, Markets and Consumption. Oxford: Goodfellow.

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PART I

Macro arts marketing issues

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1 POSTMODERNISM AND ARTS MARKETING Laurie A. Meamber

Introduction and overview (Art critic) … Because what you are witnessing today seems to me the situation of (the 1960s). Guy Debord talked about the society of the spectacle, and we are all on show every single day so also this notion of doing performance, doing shows, is really growing. (Meamber 1997: 289) In the current experience or image economy, the arts are essential. The aesthetic nature of life today is premised on our engagement with the arts, and with artistic material. Contemporary consumers are surrounded by artistic content when consuming the arts, such as performances, art festivals, fairs and auctions, films, and museums. Consumers are also embedded in design, aesthetics, and visual matter (embodied in brands, books, and webpages for example) in everyday consumption experiences. Consumers “perform” their lives by producing meaning via their consumption choices. With reference to the quote above, the idea that we live spectacle is fundamentally postmodern. Given that the arts and artistic substance are central in the present age, understanding multiple perspectives on arts marketing is more important than ever before. The purpose of this chapter is to review scholarship pertaining to postmodernism and arts marketing. Andreas Huyssen (1990) describes postmodernism as viewpoint within a historical condition.Therefore, the chapter will focus on the marketing of the arts in the current era – that is, both on the relationship between postmodernism and the marketing of the arts (the viewpoint), and the marketing of the arts in postmodernity (the condition).The major topics that will be addressed in this chapter are: (1) postmodernism and postmodernity; (2) decentering and cultural production; (3) fragmentation and arts marketing; and (4) hyperreality and the arts. Rather than describing all aspects of postmodern philosophy as it applies to the present, this chapter will concentrate on interpreting postmodernism grounded within the arts themselves.

Background: postmodernism and postmodernity Postmodernism, or more accurately, postmodernisms (plural) often referred to the collection of postmodernist thought, consists of the cultural, philosophical movements and critiques that were introduced in the second half of the twentieth century. These ideas have gained influence in marketing primarily in the period from the mid-to-late 1980s to today. Postmodernism questions 3

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“modernist” positions (grand ideas or metanarratives) on subjects such as the separation of production and consumption, the privileging of science and rationality over art and experience, and the character of reality. Since there are many ideas and thinkers associated with postmodernist thought, they will be organized in this chapter according to several key conditions that are critical to understanding arts marketing in the current period. Postmodernity is a term that defines the present, an era that comes after modernity. Modernity generally refers to the late sixteenth and seventeenth centuries corresponding to the Enlightenment period in Western culture, i.e., the age of the Renaissance. In this age, science and rationality assumed importance in transforming our perspectives on the world and our place in it. Other characterizations of this period include: postindustrial society (Bell 1973), the age of multinational capitalism and the rise of consumer society ( Jameson 1983), and the society of the spectacle (Debord 1967/1983). Some scholars prefer to use the term “late modernity” rather than postmodernity to define this time in history, arguing that the features that define the current age also existed previously, although they were not as prominent or as recognized as they are now (Firat and Venkatesh 1995). Other writers see the contemporary period as the beginnings of a larger cultural shift (Bradshaw and Dholakia 2012; Firat and Dholakia 2006). These thinkers believe that in the present day there is potential for combining both modern and postmodern perspectives, allowing for a multiplicity of ideas, positions, and conditions. Although there is debate on whether we are in the age of postmodernity or at the end of modernity, postmodern tendencies are unmistakable. Rather than occupying merely a transitory position in the context of modernism, writers such as Huyssen (1990) see a distinct shift in sensibility and practices from modernity to postmodernity. Postmodernity has given rise to postmodernist thought in which culture, language, narratives, symbolism, and the arts assume more importance in life (Brown 1995, 1998). By implication, marketing assumes a prominent role in the process by which the arts are produced and consumed in this day and age. Turning to this cultural production process, the next section of the chapter will address the first of several key postmodern conditions or tendencies, the decentering (of the subject).

Postmodern condition 1: decentering and cultural production Writers have long asserted the productive role of consumption in the lives of consumers. For example, Simmel (1900/1978, 1903/1971) asserted that modern consumption allowed individuals to create meaning in their lives.The relationship between production and consumption is a key issue for postmodernists and can be described by a process termed “cultural production.” Cultural production involves generating and consuming cultural products. Developed in the realm of the arts, the traditional or more modernist (albeit cultural) view holds that producers of culture draw from the symbolic order (or pool of symbols specified by a culture) to create cultural products, such as an artwork, a dance, a piece of music or other artistic piece (McCracken 1986, 1988; Solomon 1988). The producers in a “creative subsystem” are the artists and creators, or more generally individuals who have been classified as arts entrepreneurs (Fillis 2000). In the traditional cultural production model, the meaning of cultural products is transferred to consumers by cultural intermediaries or cultural gatekeepers, such as arts marketers in the “managerial subsystem” and “communication subsystem.” Consumers are placed at the end of the process, consuming the intended meaning of the cultural products, although there is a feedback loop by which these meanings are linked back to the cultural symbols which were available for use at the beginning of the process. The separation of distinct spheres in this process,

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production from consumption, is representative of the modernist order in which production produces value, and consumption takes value and “uses it up” (according to the etymology of the word itself ). A postmodern view of the cultural production process reconfigures relationships in the context of the arts, aesthetics, and culture industries more generally (Venkatesh and Meamber 2006). The model is dynamic, in that the cultural product (arts), and the other cultural participants – creators/ artists/entrepreneurs, marketers, and consumers – are active agents which constitute art and its meaning. In this framework, the artworks and/or artistic experiences also are actors as they shape people’s perspectives on the world. Writers on the postmodern point out that objects (such as art works) operate on consumers because of their importance in consumers’ lives in the current age. Producers help create art and arts experiences using signs and symbols from various origins – including but not limited to: artistic imagination, and cultural, historic, and religious references. Cultural intermediaries/gatekeepers attempt to inscribe the art objects and experiences with meanings when marketing them. Scholarship suggests that cultural products are imbued with particular meanings and associations formed and circulated by producers and marketers with conscious attempt to generate desire for them (Ewen 1988; Lash and Urry 1994). Consumers can accept these intended meanings and consume these suggested meanings. Consumers can also manipulate and/or reject marketer-created meanings, although marketers may attempt to regulate and control meaning reception by co-opting countercultural artistic expressions (Visconti et al. 2010) and consumer protests (Bradshaw and Holbrook 2008). The rationale for this revised view of cultural production is linked to the postmodernist notion of the decentered subject (Derrida 1976). Among other ideas, the decentered subject refers to the idea that humans such as autonomous creators (artists) are not privileged above objects (what they create). In the modernist narrative, individuals are driven by the power of reason, but, in postmodernist thought, act as communicative agents. So, in postmodernist thought, there are a variety of contributors that play an active role in the creation of art, including its meaning. In postmodernist terms, the meaning of art is never fully present until negotiated by artists, cultural intermediaries (such as arts marketers), and consumers. Central to this idea is consumers using cultural products to further their identity goals and establish meaning in their everyday lives (Firat and Venkatesh 1995). In postmodernity, identity is a project that is constantly assembled, reworked, produced, and re-produced via consumption (Shankar et al. 2009). Yet, in the construction of identity, consumers are not always free to ignore or subvert their individual histories, nor the cultural, social, economic realities impacting their choices, including the cultural history, referents, associations surrounding art. These actualities are reflected in some recent studies on the arts. For example, Hesmondhalgh (2008) finds in his empirical study of music and self-identity that consumer choice, while being self-representation (as articulated in the work of Larsen and Lawson 2010), is inexorably embedded within socio-cultural actualities, such as poverty, deprivation, lack of education or training, and the capitalist system in which cultural production takes place. Other marketing scholars likewise find that the interpretation of a work of art is constrained by consumers’ backgrounds, motivations, and interests, including the embodied and social nature of experiencing and interpreting art ( Joy and Sherry 2003b; vom Lehn 2010). Arts marketers and other cultural intermediaries are critical in directing or orienting the direction of the cultural production system today because they help to create the arts experience itself. For example, Joy and Sherry’s (2003a) work on the arts market illustrates how marketers index the changing value of art and promote a discourse or language of this value for consumers to adopt.

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Therefore, in postmodern terms, arts marketing helps to shape consumers’ (and the wider culture’s) experience of art. Bradshaw et al. (2010) point out that much of the media and critics’ attention to Damien Hirst’s 2008 diamond encrusted skull piece For the Love of God focused on its economic value, rather than the experience of the work itself. Linking arts marketing to wider cultural policy, other researchers point out that because arts production and consumption are essentially shared communicative acts of cultural production, other actors in the process, including policy makers and other stakeholders, also play important roles in casting and directing the arts initiatives of publically funded arts organizations (Hayes and Roodhouse 2010; Kirchner et al. 2007). As contemporary artists rely more upon institutional funding, grants, funded shows, festivals, and museum purchases, these agents assume more prominence in the cultural production process. The boundaries between art and commerce, and art and government, and art and technology are not always distinct. In Europe and elsewhere, governments are using the arts to encourage economic growth and contribute to social causes such as community development and urban regeneration. Businesses sponsor arts events and galleries, and use the arts to foster brands. The Internet helps art consumers form social networks and fosters communication between artists and consumers directly (Kerrigan et al. 2009). In summary, the cultural production process by which art is produced and consumed today is a dialectical, interactive process. Cultural production is predicated upon the postmodern condition of decentering, such that all of the cultural actors are recognized as being important in this communicative process of artistic creation and meaning generation. Some postmodern thinkers suggest that this means a reversal of production and consumption (Firat and Venkatesh 1995). More to the point, underlying the postmodern view on cultural production is the recognition that production and consumption are interrelated, and that meaning is being developed throughout the process, including in the act of consumption. In contemporary, postmodern consumer culture, individual identities are shaped by consumers’ engagement with cultural objects. Consumers interpret, rework, and transform art and artistic experience into meaning to further their identity goals as they construct and negotiate their place in the world. Another closely related postmodern tendency that impacts the creation of meaning in the arts is fragmentation, the subject of the next section of this chapter.

Postmodern condition 2: fragmentation and arts marketing In the present age, consumers can seek multiple experiences and self-identities and can find pleasure in each consumption experience (Firat and Venkatesh 1995). Consumers can unabashedly and playfully choose multiple, contradictory consumption activities – for example, consuming a professional ballet performance one evening, and the next day attending a rap concert or visiting an art fair to enact different (or fragmented) self-identities. In postmodern thought, consumer loyalties are not fixed and do not need to connect to a unified sense of self. Fragmentation in the current period suggests that individuals do not have to commit to any one theme, meaning, or identity (Meamber 1995). The same can be said of the artwork or experience resisting any one classification or received meaning. Instead, art objects and artistic experiences can be produced, interpreted, and (productively) consumed in a fragmentary fashion. Artists can produce many disparate, seemingly conflicting pieces of art and/or artistic experience without being labeled as schizophrenic. Fragmentation in the contemporary age has many implications for arts marketing. Art, itself, while always changing, has never been more fragmented in terms of its subject

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matter, form, and expression. In fact, fragmentation is the core of what arts scholars consider postmodern art. The term “postmodernism” itself came into being in the 1950s in the field of American literary criticism to describe a reactionary position within modernist art ( Jencks 1987; Venkatesh 1989). However, it was in the 1970s that the notion of postmodernism gained currency when describing a break with modernism within the arts (Van Raaij 1993a, 1993b). Modernism in visual art was thought to have been advanced by artists like Picasso and Cézanne who experimented with anti-representational forms, and yet, because modernity subsumes the period from the sixteenth century onwards, some writers position representational art as being modernist in its quest to present reality and the rational order of life. Representation in this sense is the capturing of reality through direct observation and artistic transformation (Venkatesh 1992). Anti-representational modern art did not seek to represent reality, so much as to construct reality, such as inner states of being and the nature of art itself. The so-deemed “modern art” movements which followed anti-representational art – Dadaism, Surrealism, Abstract Expressionism, Minimalism, and Conceptualism – continued experimenting with exposing the techniques and foundations of art in pre-Modernity (Appignanesi and Garratt 1995). These traditions experimented with the “illusory” aspect of art to depict emotional reality and/or artistic constructions of reality. Postmodern art broke with Modern art by exposing the exclusionary nature of art. Postmodern art, such as Pop Art, embraced non-art and previously ignored subjects such as the commercial language of consumer culture (Hebdige 1988). Various media, styles, and idioms can be found intermixed in postmodern visual art, and meaning is not fixed, but changeable. Postmodernism allows for new forms of art in which a diversity of styles, forms, and messages can thrive. In dance, Levin (1990) classifies the postmodernist period into two phases coming after modernism: a “modernist” postmodern period (extending from the early 1960s through the 1970s); and a “postmodernist” postmodern phase (beginning in the 1980s). According to McGlynn (1990), the first postmodernist phase with reference to the arts began with the intent to disclose the traditional essence of the art. In the second phase of postmodernism, according to these scholars, meaning is reintroduced; various media and styles are intertwined. Levin (1990) writes that this second phase of postmodern dance called into question, challenged, and deconstructed dance subjects that were previously taken for granted. More generally, arts scholars view postmodern art in the early twenty-first century as a continuation of what is termed as “pastiche” ( Jameson 1983), replete with recombinant styles, experimentation with new materials, contexts, scales, and subject matter, but with particular leanings towards embracing and intermixing themes from both larger cultural and political history, and local subjects. Pastiche allows for the juxtaposition of opposites, another postmodernist condition that characterizes paradox to be central in postmodernity. In general terms, postmodern art cannot be defined according to a certain style, but is an occurrence in which meaning is destabilized, undecidable, and open to multiple interpretations (Kaye 1994). It is fragmentation, the postmodern tendency in which all things are disconnected and disjointed, which drives this uncertainty of meaning. The postmodern thinker Jean-François Lyotard (1984) is most closely associated with the notion of fragmentation. In his writing on science and the breakdown of grand ideas, fragmentation involves not only the breaking up of unities, but multiplicity in terms of perspectives and realities that become legitimized in contemporary social life. Different viewpoints and realities can establish their own acceptability. In terms of arts marketing, fragmentation implies that marketers and other cultural intermediaries can create and draw upon various and unrelated sources for

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positioning art. Researchers find that in art galleries and art centers, the role of cultural intermediary is becoming more important in terms of relationship building and shaping consumers’ perceptions of art and social inclusion (Durrer and Miles 2009).The same is true for performance, where arts marketers are seen as crucial relationship builders with audiences, acting as guides, and facilitators of co-production of meaning (Conway and Leighton 2012; Osborne and Rentschler 2010; Ryan et al. 2010) so that consumers can actualize their fragmented selves via momentary experiences. In addition, while consumers can enjoy fragmented consumption moments today, they frequently do so in communion with others. Contemporary consumption, including arts consumption, often takes place in temporary consumption communities, both face to face and virtual (O’Reilly and Doherty 2006). These consumption communities (or consumer tribes) connect upon the basis of shared emotions, styles of life, and consumption practices, including the arts (Cova et al. 2007; Maffesoli 1988/1996). Thus, there are retro-music brand communities in post-Apartheid South Africa centered around the marketing of protest music (Drewett 2008), and communities of consumers in the United Kingdom that gather to commune and consume rave music and dance (Goulding et al. 2002). In the postmodern sense, all arts audiences act as temporal communities of consumption (O’Sullivan 2009). Therefore, research finds that arts marketers play an important role in fostering arts communities, providing a linking value to connect artists, artworks, experiences, and consumers together so that consumers can create individual and shared meanings in their lives (Cova 1996). In summary, fragmentation in terms of the arts suggests that consumers are able to select disparate artistic consumption experiences in which to participate in order to enact their identities. In the arts themselves, fragmentation is the nature of postmodern art which combines different subject matter and styles, in which meaning is never fully determinate, but is negotiated by the actors within the cultural production process. Arts marketing can assist consumers interpret meaning through art, and connect communities of art-centered consumption.

Postmodern condition 3: hyperreality and the arts As highlighted in the previous sections of this chapter, in cultural production, there is a continuous refashioning of meaning. In semiological terms, meaning creation involves the relationship between two parts of a sign, the signifier and the signified (Barthes 1972). The signifier is the representation of an object (the referent), either verbal or visual. The signified is the meaning or cognitive imagery associated with the signifier; it is what is understood as the object. For example, the word “art” is a signifier for the signified, a cultural understanding of the tangible expression of creative skill or imagination (the referent). In postmodernity, the relationship between the signifier and signified has been effaced; that is, the signifier is representing the referent with no logical connection through a signified. Thus, the signifier “art” can be attached arbitrarily to any object; much as words such as “natural,” can be labels for many types of consumer products, most of which have no “true” claim to the signified, or the original or accepted meaning of the signifier. Taken to the extreme, postmodernist thinker Jean Baudrillard (1983) writes that our culture has gone from a world of signifiers attaching arbitrarily to referents into a world of “free-floating” signifiers that suggest a reality beyond the real, or the hyperreal, a world of self-referential signs. Hyperreality, in terms of the arts, translates into art being consumed for its sign value without regard to what it may or may not represent. In postmodern thought, presentation is the dominant mode of communication, rather than representation. The arts present themselves to consumers

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who consume them to create their own meanings. Arts marketing becomes critical in presenting art today – that is, in promoting appealing images (Askegaard 1999). Hyperreality also characterizes postmodern art that plays with the notion of reality and unreality. For example, in 1960s theatre, new forms were developed out of “happenings.” Happenings were spontaneous performances that evolved into simulation. Actors came together with spectators to create a piece – choosing to be “real” or “simulating” a character and/or story. In the 1970s and 1980s, performers created performances involving real people by leaving objects in public places and watching how people would react. These hyperreal performances that broke with the reality/illusion dichotomy continued to evolve in the 1990s up to the present. For example, there exist spectacles that break down the illusion barrier by integrating the audience into the performance (Ryan et al. 2010). According to postmodern scholars, technology is accelerating the disappearance of the distinction between the appearance and the real (Vattimo 1992) and, therefore, new postmodern art forms such as “live movies” combine live performers with virtual or mediated performers, environments, and audience (Malone and White 2006). In contemporary life, we can indeed live spectacle via the arts and our immersion in artistic content. In summary, hyperreality suggests there is an illusory separation between the “real” and the “simulation,” and that we live in a society of signification. Marketing plays a role in the creation of hyperreality, as marketers as cultural intermediaries, in the process of cultural production, take the cultural product (including art that plays with fiction/reality) and assist in marketing sign value to consumers.

Summary Postmodernism, a collection of thoughts on the conditions of life and art we are experiencing at present, provides a rich foundation for discussions of arts marketing found in this Companion volume. Postmodernism as a perspective can elucidate some of the tendencies witnessed in arts marketing, such as co-production of meaning (decentering), facilitation of meaning creation and of arts consumption communities (fragmentation), and the communication of sign value (hyperreality). It remains to be seen if we are in or will fully enter the age of postmodernity, and if the conditions associated with postmodernity become more pronounced or evolve. Future research can continue to enlighten future arts marketers on postmodernist ideas manifest in arts marketing.

Further reading Baudrillard, J. (1995) Simulacra and Simulation, Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan Press. (The work includes an expansion of some of his earlier ideas on hyperreality found in Simulations.) Firat, A.F. and Venkatesh, A. (1995) ‘Liberatory postmodernism and the reenchantment of consumption’, Journal of Consumer Research 22, 239–267. (A classic overview of postmodernist thought with implications for marketing, consumption, and the consumer.) Foster, H. (ed.) (1983) The Anti-Aesthetic: Essays on Postmodern Culture, Seattle, WA: Bay Press. (This collection includes pieces written by leading scholars on postmodern thought including Fredric Jameson and Jean Baudrillard, as well as chapters on various art forms such as sculpture, museums, and book audiences.) Jameson, F. (1991) Postmodernism, Or, the Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism, Durham, NC: Duke University Press. (This authoritative volume contains chapters on culture, theory, video, architecture, reading, space, economics, and film.) Lyotard, J.-F. (1984) The Postmodern Condition, Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press. (The seminal book that introduced postmodern terminology such as metanarratives/grand narratives, and fragmentation.)

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References Appignanesi, R. and Garratt, C. (1995), Postmodernism for Beginners, Cambridge: Icon Books Ltd. Askegaard, S. (1999) ‘Marketing, the performing arts and social change: Beyond the legitimacy crisis’, Consumption, Markets and Culture 3: 1–25. Barthes, R. (1972) Mythologies, trans. A. Lavers, London: Cape. Baudrillard, J. (1983) Simulations, New York: Semiotext(e). Bell, D. (1973) The Coming of Post-industrial Society, New York: Basic Books. Bradshaw, A. and Dholakia, N. (2012) ‘Outsider’s insights: (mis)understanding A. Fuat Firat on consumption, markets and culture’, Consumption, Markets & Culture 15: 117–131. Bradshaw, A. and Holbrook, M.B. (2008) ‘Must we have Muzak wherever we go? A critical consideration of the consumer culture’, Consumption, Markets, and Culture 11: 25–43. Bradshaw, A., Kerrigan, F. and Holbrook, M.B. (2010) ‘Challenging conventions in arts marketing’, in D. O’Reilly and F. Kerrigan (eds) Marketing the Arts: A Fresh Approach, London: Routledge, 5–17. Brown, S. (1995), Postmodern Marketing, London: Routledge. Brown, S. (1998), Postmodern Marketing Two: Telling Tales, London: International Thompson Business Press. Conway, T. and Leighton, D. (2012) ‘“Staging the past, enacting the present”: Experiential marketing in the performing arts and heritage sectors’, Arts Marketing: An International Journal 2: 35–51. Cova, B. (1996) ‘The postmodern explained to managers: Implications for marketing’, Business Horizons 39: 15–23. Cova, B., Kozinets, R.V. and Shankar, A. (eds) (2007) Consumer Tribes, Oxford: Elsevier. Debord, G. (1967/1983) Society of the Spectacle, Detroit: Black and Red. Derrida, J. (1976) Of Grammatology, trans. G. Spivak, Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press. Drewett, M. (2008) ‘Developing a retro brand community: Re-releasing and marketing anti-Apartheid protest music in post-apartheid South Africa’, Consumption, Markets & Culture 11: 287–305. Durrer,V. and Miles, S. (2009) ‘New perspectives on the role of cultural intermediaries in social inclusion in the UK’, Consumption, Markets & Culture 12: 225–241. Ewen, S. (1988) All Consuming Images: The Politics of Style in Contemporary Culture, New York: Basic Books. Fillis, I. (2000) ‘Being creative at the marketing/entrepreneurship interface: Lessons from the art industry’, Journal of Research in Marketing and Entrepreneurship 2: 125–137. Firat, A.F. and Dholakia, N. (2006) ‘Theoretical and philosophical implications of postmodern debates: Some challenges to modern marketing’, Marketing Theory 6: 123–162. Firat, A.F. and Venkatesh, A. (1995) ‘Liberatory postmodernism and the reenchantment of consumption’, Journal of Consumer Research 22: 239–267. Goulding, C., Shankar, A. and Elliott, R. (2002) ‘Working weeks, rave weekends: Identity fragmentation and the emergence of new communities’, Consumption, Markets & Culture 5: 261–284. Hayes, D. and Roodhouse, S. (2010) ‘From missionary to market maker: Reconceptualizing arts marketing Practice’, in D. O’Reilly and F. Kerrigan (eds) Marketing the Arts: A Fresh Approach, London: Routledge, 40–53. Hebdige, D. (1988) Hiding in the Light, New York: Routledge. Hesmondhalgh, D. (2008) ‘Towards a critical understanding of music, emotion, and self-identity’, Consumption, Markets & Culture 11: 329–343. Huyssen, A. (1990) ‘Mapping the postmodern’, in L.J. Nicholson (ed.) Feminism/Postmodernism, New York: Routledge. Jameson, F. (1983) ‘Postmodernism and consumer society’, in H. Foster (ed.) The Anti-Aesthetic: Essays on Postmodern Culture, Seattle, WA: Bay Press. Jencks, C. (1987), What is Postmodernism?, New York: St. Martin’s Press. Joy, A. and Sherry, Jr., J.F. (2003a) ‘Disentangling the paradoxical alliances between art market and art world’, Consumption, Markets & Culture 6: 155–181. Joy, A. and Sherry, Jr., J.F. (2003b) ‘Speaking of art as embodied imagination: A multisensory approach to understanding aesthetic experiences’, Journal of Consumer Research 30: 259–282. Kaye, N. (1994) Postmodernism and Performance, New York: St. Martin’s Press. Kerrigan, F., O’Reilly, D. and vom Lehn, D. (2009) ‘Producing and consuming arts: A marketing perspective’, Consumption, Markets & Culture 12: 203–223. Kirchner, T.A., Markowski, E.P. and Ford, J.B. (2007) ‘Relationships among levels of government support, marketing activities, and financial health of nonprofit performing arts organizations’, International Journal of Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Marketing 12: 95–116.

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Larsen, G. and Lawson, R. (2010) ‘Evolving perspectives on music consumption’, in D. O’Reilly and F. Kerrigan (eds) Marketing the Arts: A Fresh Approach, London: Routledge, 190–204. Lash, S. and Urry, J. (1994) Economies of Signs and Space, London: Sage. Levin, D.M. (1990) ‘Postmodernism in dance: Dance, discourse, democracy’, in H.J. Silverman (ed.) Continental Philosophy III: Postmodernism Philosophy and the Arts, New York: Routledge. Lyotard, J.-F. (1984) The Postmodern Condition, Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 284–288. McCracken, G. (1986) ‘Culture and consumption: A theoretical account of the structure and movement of the cultural meaning of goods’, Journal of Consumer Research 13: 71–84. McCracken, G. (1988) Culture and Consumption, Bloomington: Indiana University Press. McGlynn, F. (1990) ‘Postmodernism and theatre’, in H.J. Silverman (ed.) Continental Philosophy III: Postmodernism Philosophy and the Arts, New York: Routledge. Maffesoli, M. (1988/1996) The Time of Tribes: The Decline of Individualism in Mass Society, trans. D. Smith, Thousand Oaks: Sage Publications. Malone, K. and White, G.S. (2006) Live Movies: A Field Guide to New Media for the Performing Arts, Fairfax, VA: Multimedia Performance Studio. Meamber, L.A. (1995) ‘Mosaics of consumption experiences: Entertainment in postmodernity’, Proceedings, 1995 Winter AMA Marketing Educators’ Conference, 120–124. Meamber, L.A. (1997) ‘The constitution of the arts as cultural production: The role of the consumer, artist, and cultural intermediary as producer/consumer of meaning’, unpublished dissertation, UMI Publications, Inc., Ann Arbor, Michigan. O’Reilly, D. and Doherty, K. (2006) ‘Music b(r)ands online: constructing community’, in Ayers, M. (ed.) Cybersounds, Essays in Virtual Music Culture, New York: Peter Lange, 137–160. Osbourne A. and Rentschler, R. (2010) ‘Conversation, collaboration, and cooperation: Courting new audiences for a new century’, in D. O’Reilly and F. Kerrigan (eds) Marketing the Arts: A Fresh Approach, London: Routledge, 54–71. O’Sullivan, T. (2009) ‘All together now: A symphony orchestra audience as a consuming community’, Consumption, Markets & Culture 12: 209–223. Ryan, A., Fenton, M. and Sangiorgi, D. (2010) ‘A night at the theatre: Moving arts marketing from the office to the kitchen and beyond’, in D. O’Reilly and F. Kerrigan (eds) Marketing the Arts: A Fresh Approach, London: Routledge, 214–230. Shankar, A., Elliott, R. and Fitchett, J. (2009) ‘Consumption, identity and narratives of socialization’, Marketing Theory 9: 75–94. Simmel, G. (1900/1978) The Philosophy of Money, trans. T. Bottomore and D. Frisby, London: Routledge. Simmel, G. (1903/1971) ‘The metropolis and mental life’, reprinted in D. Levine (1971) On Individuality and Social Form, Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Solomon, M.R. (1988) ‘Building up and breaking down: The impact of cultural sorting on symbolic consumption’, in J. Sheth and E.C. Hirschman (eds) Research in Consumer Behavior, Greenwich, CT: JAI Press. Van Raaij, W.F. (1993a) ‘Postmodern consumption’, Journal of Electronic Psychology 14: 541–563. Van Raaij, W.F. (1993b) ‘Postmodern consumption: Architecture, art, and consumer behavior’, European Advances in Consumer Behavior 1: 550–558. Vattimo, G. (1992) The Transparent Society, trans. D. Webb, Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press. Venkatesh, A. (1989) ‘Modernity and postmodernity: A synthesis or antithesis’, Proceedings of the American Marketing Association Theory Conference. Venkatesh, A. (1992) ‘Postmodernism, consumer culture and the society of the spectacle’, in J.F. Sherry and B. Sternthal (eds) Advances in Consumer Research, 19, Provo, UT: Association for Consumer Research. Venkatesh, A. and Meamber, L. A. (2006) ‘Arts and aesthetics: Marketing and cultural production’, Marketing Theory 6: 11–39. Visconti, A., Sherry, Jr., J.F., Borghini, S. and Anderson, L. (2010) ‘Street art, sweet art? Reclaiming the “Public” in public place’, Journal of Consumer Research 37: 511–529. Vom Lehn, D. (2010) ‘Generating aesthetic experiences from ordinary activity: New technology and the museum experience’, in D. O’Reilly and F. Kerrigan (eds) Marketing the Arts: A Fresh Approach, London: Routledge, 104–120.

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2 CULTURAL ECONOMICS AND ARTS MARKETS Sam Cameron

Introduction The field of cultural economics has been established for quite a long time.The Journal of Cultural Economics was established in 1977 and is now published four times a year. The Association for Cultural Economics has a biannual conference and there have also been a number of textbooks and handbooks in the field. Cultural economics has a code within the official bibliographic system of professional economists determined by the American Economic Association for use in its Journal of Economic Literature. Despite all this, the existence of cultural economics and its contents remain a mystery or non-event to many of those outside the immediate circle of practitioners. There have been shifts over time in the focus of cultural economists. Initially there was quite a strong focus on ‘public good’ aspects especially on the matter of public subsidy to the arts on the grounds that markets were very likely to fail to provide adequately for the arts. It should be well recognized by now, from general economic studies, that weak market provision does not necessarily imply the need for substantial government subsidy. Such matters are, of course, intrinsically normative (value laden) whereas cultural economics has tended to move away from this to concentrate on purely positive (factual) analysis. At this stage, work in the field is almost universally comprised of applied empirical studies. Within this, the dominant methodology is that of the econometric techniques applied by economists in other areas of applied economics. Typically some kind of equation is estimated, using multiple regression, where a dependent variable of interest (such as sales of tickets) is regressed on ‘explanatory’ variables such as price, income and, more recently, such things as influences of word of mouth or other reputation indices. It would be fair to say that cultural economists have not developed any new or subject-specific empirical methods. The topics covered in cultural economics research have tended to drift away, to some degree, from an initial preoccupation with ‘high’ culture (opera, ballet, classical music) towards more mainstream entertainment topics. Having said that, there are still many papers on ‘high’ culture, and, in the (rapidly expanding) area of festivals, there is virtually no work by cultural economists on ‘popular’ or highly commercial arts/entertainments festivals. Recently the Journal of Cultural Economics has begun to receive and publish, for the first time, papers on the relevance of arts to tourism. The most dominant topic published in recent years appears to be movie consumption with a paradoxical lack of interest in the more concrete 12

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economic details of movie production and financing. Most of the interest in films is in large-scale Hollywood activity.

What is cultural economics? So far I have avoided dealing with this question although some intimation of the answer is given by the topics so far mentioned. Many workers in the field proceed quite happily without trying to answer this question. Somewhat inevitably, it is addressed by textbooks and handbooks. Recently this has tended to involve reference to the creative industries and the creative economy which only pushes the problem of definition back a stage further if we cannot come up with a satisfactory definition of creative industries/economy. Definitions of the creative sector are largely premised on the notion that anything involving ideas, rather than manual labour, can potentially be counted. In the work of Richard Florida, this has led to some extravagant estimates of the share of the creative economy in the total economy (for a critique of this, see Cameron 2011). We ought to be clear that cultural economics is not ‘cultural’ at all in the sense that others might understand the term. For example, someone in cultural studies or cultural anthropology would find very little common ground in the published work. It is not clear that applying standard economic models to the purchase of a cultural good has any type of cultural analytic content. Ontologically, it may as well be a study of the demand for cars or breakfast cereal. We could pursue this point by saying ‘yes well, cars and breakfast cereals are cultural goods because of things like the involvement of design and socially mediated subjective perceptions of quality’. This of course leads us in the direction of going to the opposite extreme of arguing that all economics should be cultural economics opening up the shift to a new paradigm possibly taking its lead from such economic anthropological studies as Douglas and Isherwood (1979). Currently the field of cultural economics does not evidence this level of ambition, choosing instead to push the idea of applying standard economic methods/models to the cultural sector. Thus we shall restrict ourselves to this remit, but will dwell on possible future directions at the end of the chapter.

Demand The most fundamental idea of economics that goes all the way back to Adam Smith in the eighteenth century is the role of prices in coordinating the diverse desires of producers and consumers in such a way that all are as well off as they possibly can be given the resources available. The technically necessary conditions for such an outcome were expounded progressively throughout the twentieth century, as the pioneering work of Pareto and Walras developed into modern general equilibrium analysis. Put more simply, the role of prices is to solve the problem of scarcity as there are not enough goods to go round the number of consumers.The issue of scarcity in some arts markets is of course now in question due to the rise of the digital economy where reproduction costs can fall to virtually zero. A large share of existing cultural economics is still heavily focused on prices as the primary factor in markets. In particular, there is an interest in estimating the price elasticity of demand (the percentage by which the quantity demanded changes when the price changes by 1 per cent). This is what many studies of data for arts markets pursue. There have been some more detailed attempts to look at whether high prices are a genuine barrier to consumption.This can be assessed by giving people highly subsidized or free (voucher) entry to live events or even allowing ‘pay what you want’ performances where individuals can

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donate rather than pay set prices. However, Kolb (1997), for example, shows that there can still be problems of selling ‘high’ culture goods even under such incentives. This could be merely a reflection of the fact that people do not have much demand for these goods, but resistance, even at low prices, might be an indication of problems arising from the presence of experience goods which may be subject to rational addiction processes. We return to these matters later. However, to say that the demand for a product is determined by the price presupposes that such a chain of causality is appropriate for the product in question. In general, this requires a fair degree of competition between rival buyers and sellers which would, in the extreme case, represent a ‘perfect market’. Some arts markets will be conducted in auctions where there will be relatively small numbers of buyers for the item and where the item to be sold may have considerable uniqueness, meaning that we cannot reasonably talk about a relationship between levels of demand and price. In auctions, the final selling price is likely to be determined by the marginal valuation of the keenest buyer depending on the type of auction used. An exception to this is the structure of auction used by eBay which allows the marginal (deciding) buyer to receive what economists would term a ‘consumer surplus’ from being allowed to buy at the price that is just enough to eliminate the second keenest buyer. eBay was used by rock band Third Eye Blind to sell their own tickets and this was subject to a cultural economic analysis by Halcoussis and Matthews (2007). Their findings are supportive of the notion of new business models where the artist may be better off handling a larger share of the sales of their products rather than delegating to third-party agents which have tended to be large multinational corporations. There are many other studies in the field of auctions, most frequently for fine art works in which case there is a specific interest in the impact on the market value of the length of time artists are dead. Economists are particularly keen on auction mechanisms as a means of ensuring socially efficient provision. In the area of media, they have been particularly influential in the deployment by governments of auctions to award licences for radio and television stations. Uniqueness is, in some cases, an intrinsic feature of arts markets that the supplier may seek to enhance in a variety of ways. In mass markets where there is little uniqueness to what is transacted, the impact of price is mediated by the influence of the price of other rival goods. This is, in essence, what economists term a substitution effect. Besides prices, the primary factor of interest to economists is income. Inevitably, any scholar of arts markets would consider income. For cultural economists, income (as with price) operates on the basis of the theoretical model of demand. Thus, a change in price creates an income effect as, for example, a fall in price is like being given more money to spend on all things as it requires less expenditure to purchase the same volume of cultural goods as before. So, we have in addition to the price elasticity of demand, the income elasticity of demand (the percentage by which the demand changes when income changes by 1 per cent). In statistical studies of demand for cultural goods (Lévy-Garboua and Montmarquette 2011), the income elasticity is usually shown to be high (not below 1).There is a tendency (as in all economics) to refer to goods with an income elasticity of greater than 1 as luxuries.This is done because such goods will take up an increasing share of income as income rises. In empirical studies there is a problem, often overlooked, of defining a suitable concept of income. If we operate in a world where there are only isolated individuals who do not share consumption of goods nor do they transfer income (without material return) to other individuals, then the definition of income appears comparatively simple, as it is the resources available to the individual to spend. Even in such a simple case, there is still a problem of the fact that the relevant concept is really wealth rather than current disposable income.That is, consumer spending

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depends on projected life cycle income rather than just current period income. In general, studies do not attempt to create a proxy for this. Many studies of demand include measures of the level of educational attainment, for reasons which are not related to income as such, which will capture some of the life cycle wealth elements of income. The impact of income is further complicated by the fact that people do not function in isolation. Gary Becker’s ‘economics of the family’ or ‘household production model’ brought to the attention of economists the nuances of intra-household income distribution. In a simple case, the income of an individual could be zero but they are subsidized by another household member. In some circumstances this will be the case with children who are given transfers to expend on purely private consumption. More generally arts market consumption may be shared by family members. The Becker model of household production considered the household to be a producer of its own utility, using inputs of time and goods, rather than just a consumer of goods. For example, live entertainment involves buying a ticket but this is a commodity that normally gives little satisfaction by itself although it could become valuable as a collectible. The ticket is an input into producing a commodity which may have other inputs of one’s own time and other people’s time – such as of family members and non-family members. Non-family members may be friends who provide a network benefit in terms of company at the event and post-event discussion and pre-event anticipatory conversation. Even complete strangers form part of the production process, at live events, as they provide ambience. Almost universally, performers and audiences are discomforted by venues with a substantial percentage of empty seats during performances. This does suggest that there is a potential hindrance to demand, if people who are undecided about attending fear that others may have the same point of view. Economists have always been aware that demand is not static in the sense that past consumption, and expectations about future consumption, may influence current consumption. Models of such situations were popularized in the rational addiction approach (Becker and Murphy 1988). In this model, the individual may build up a stock of ‘appreciation capital’ through learning about their consumption activity and through learning about it by experience.

Types of good – experience goods The simplest situation for a consumer is to know, with perfect certainty, the nature of the product, its terms of sale, etc. and their tastes over its characteristics. Lack of perfect knowledge creates risk because the investment of sampling an experience good (where one learns in the process of consuming) might provide a negative return. The risk is greater where the good and time inputs are what we might term ‘lumpy’. One could quite easily consume 1/16 of a live performance but it would tend to have proportionately lower per-minute utility as a performance consists of a series of events consumed as a totality which occurs in a particular sequence. To an extent, one might get utility from attending for 15 minutes to see a famous actor and then leave but one would lose utility from not sitting through the whole package of the event. This applies to the time inputs supplied by other people as well, for example let us say the attendance is by a party of three to a 90-minute performance but the fourth person cannot allocate a block of time of more than 15 minutes for the event. Live entertainment is not a regular repeat buy like food nor is it a consumer durable which comes up for renewal, like fridges. Each act of consumption has a certain degree of uniqueness, as the event will not be repeated in its exact form again. The comparator entertainment

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products – televisions, dvds, cds, computer games – have repeat purchase characteristics.They are also linked to capital goods (the playback technology) which lower resistance by providing very low-cost low-risk opportunities to sample/consume entertainment products. These products provide a conversational network externality in that it is readily easy to find other people to provide utility from discussing the experience of consuming them. Live arts/entertainments can be seen as having a combination of characteristics which include: 1 2 3 4 5

the lighting and general stage ambience the atmosphere created by the group of other people who choose to attend (i.e. there is a club good or network externality in consumption effect) the performers the material: songs, script, etc. the genre: whether the material/performance provides comic relief or dramatic tension.

There are quite a lot of survey-based studies by economists of attendance by individuals at a single type of live event. Besides the obvious price and income factors, one of the chief areas of interest is in long and short tails of distributions – where we have significant numbers of nonconsumers and pockets of very high consumers.This could be a logical outcome of dealing with risky experience goods, as a group of otherwise similar people could fan out in this way depending on random factors which set in motion different trajectories of appreciation capital acquisition. Existing studies tend to show relatively little evidence on the role of personal characteristics and the social environment in which decisions are made. More specifically, there is little focus on the gender element, bar a token use of a shift dummy on occasions and some work on spousal influence. Recent work from government arts support agencies (see e.g. Bunting et al. 2008) provides wider evidence on socially conducive and inhibitory factors in consumption. Surprisingly this survey-based report finds the following not to be significant deterrents of consumption: disability status, rural or urban status of area, vehicle access. On the other hand, education, being white and being female have statistically significant positive relationships with likelihood of consumption. However, as pointed out earlier, education may be a proxy for long-term wealth effects thus its direct effect on altering preferences may be overstated.We should also note that ethnic differences may reflect supply-side issues as people may have desires to consume arts which are representative of their own ethnicity to some degree and this may be skewed in the available products.

Supply In the arts firm, ‘quality’ and output are seen as taking over from profits as the key motivators of suppliers. When profits are not allowed due to nonprofit status, success is to be judged by the ‘quality’ of the production and the number of people admitted. There is also an important difference in setting up production. Before a professional production of a Shakespeare play can be mounted there is an enormous range of costs that have to be met. These are the fixed costs. If a small-scale production is required the means of production can be scaled down accordingly. There are ways of slashing set-up costs in the theatre with solo or two-hander plays. Likewise a musician can decide to eschew the band format and become a solo artist. But there are limits to this kind of substitution. The full import of many dramatic and musical compositions would be lost if they were scaled down.

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With high fixed costs, it can be hard to set a price that will not result in loss making. A cost function relates the level of activity to its cost of production. In industrial production it will sometimes be the case that costs rise much more quickly than output. On other occasions the converse will apply. The normal textbook version of the cost function assumes that we are in a static situation where there is no technical progress. In practice, technical progress is a significant feature of arts markets. It has long been argued, under the guise of the ‘Baumol–Bowen thesis’, that the arts are intrinsically labour intensive and gain much less from technical progress than the non-arts industries. Studies of cost functions in the arts have covered museums, symphony orchestras, dance and theatre The conclusion could be drawn from some of these studies that resources could be saved if the mixture of sizes of organization could be altered, for example if some small museums were made larger and some of the larger museums made smaller. James Gapinski (1984) analyses data for the Royal Shakespeare company. Gapinski’s results indicate that the Royal Shakespeare Company has not made cost savings from technical progress. It also suffers from costs that increase faster than output.This finding is in keeping with other studies. Subsidy influences costs via changes in the output level chosen by arts managers/directors. Patronage expands arts organizations to a point that would be unprofitable under the usual accountancy. Gapinski’s results indicate that patronage tends to be spent more on labour rather than capital. Some caveats must be entered.There are obvious difficulties in defining and measuring output. It is even more difficult to measure technical progress. Gapinski assumes that it grows at a constant rate over time and that he has correctly measured every other influence on cost.

Future developments The main challenge for the future of cultural economics is to engage with the full ramifications of the emergence of the digital economy. This is likely to be hastened by the growing willingness of governments to fund research in the digital economy, in the belief that it will be a powerful spur to get economies back on the path of high, stable economic growth. This belief is a corollary of the fairly recent vogue championed by Richard Florida (see Cameron 2011) for seeing arts, culture and media sectors as the engines of economic growth, rather than the historic mainstay of manufacturing. The emergence of the digital economy might be seen as just a continuation of technical progress in the delivery of arts market products which causes changes in the relative costs of producing different commodities and changes in the choices of consumers. However, it could be argued that it constitutes a much more significant quantum shift although much literature on the matter does not really make the case for this very clearly.There are different aspects to the digital economy some of which have been partially dealt with in current research. The chief issues are: 1

2

Production costs. Falling costs are nothing new but the quantum leap in the case of arts markets is that prices can fall from quite high to zero suddenly if the zero-priced product is deemed a sufficiently good substitute. Copyright. Copyright has always been subject to infringement creating risk for holders. Digital production and distribution has the consequence of seemingly making infringement much easier. It has also created a deadweight loss of resources being expended (often in vain) to prevent infringement. On occasions, this has actually been detrimental to the law-abiding consumer. Economists have contributed a certain amount of analysis to the older copyright laws derived from the literary model but have been slow to say much new about policy in a digital system using such things as Creative Commons licensing.

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New business models. On account of the factors just listed, we now have much excitement around the idea of new business models for the creative sector. As mentioned above, this excites governments that feel that harnessing the power of the digital economy in a new business model may fuel economic growth. At present it is not clear what a dominant new business model might be.We can clearly see that despite the problems of copyright, etc., that firms that deal almost exclusively with information that is largely free (on the Internet) are somehow making enormous profits.

In fairness, it might be said that there is not much ‘new’ analysis needed to deal with this as it involves fairly old business practices such as disguised pricing where the individual user faces ‘hidden’ costs and joint supply with advertising along lines that have been long-established in commercial television. The other chief concern that one might expect to be factored in, due in this case to its rising prominence in the economics profession, is happiness or more scientifically ‘subjective wellbeing’ (SWB). Empirical studies of the effects of the arts on SWB are reviewed in Ateca-Amestoy (2011) showing positive impacts of cultural goods and cultural participation on well-being. By itself this is not surprising as we would not expect individuals to purchase goods or engage in activities that do not promote their well-being, unless they are some kind of dysfunctional addict possibly suffering from problems of foresight and inability to defer gratification. The latter argument is quite strongly evident in studies by economists of the effects of television viewing (see Frey et al. 2007). Thus we are drawn to an argument about the pattern of consumption and production of goods being, in some way, dysfunctional.

Conclusion This chapter has given an overview of the field of cultural economics with respect to arts markets. It is abundantly clear that there is a large body of relevant work and appropriate empirical tools. However there remain significant future challenges which are not currently being addressed other than in some narrowly specific areas.

Further reading Galenson, D. 2006. Artistic Capital. Routledge. London. (An economic analysis of creativity amongst highly successful creatives.) Heilbrun, J. and Gray, C.M. 2001. The Economics of Art and Culture. Cambridge University Press. Cambridge. (Textbook with a particular focus on the role of United States’ government.) Throsby, C.D. and Withers, G.A. 1979. The Economics of the Performing Arts. Edward Arnold. London. (The first textbook on cultural economics.) Towse, R. (ed.) 2006. Recent Developments in Cultural Economics. The International Library of Critical Writings in Economics. Edward Elgar. Cheltenham, UK. (37 original journal articles arranged in 10 sections.) Towse, R. (ed.) 2011. A Handbook of Cultural Economics, 2nd edn. Edward Elgar. Cheltenham, UK. (60 short invited summaries of particular topics arranged in alphabetical order.)

References Ateca-Amestoy,V. 2011. Leisure and subjective well-being. In S. Cameron (ed.) Handbook of the Economics of Leisure. Edward Elgar. Cheltenham, UK. Becker, G.S. and Murphy, K. 1988. A theory of rational addiction. Journal of Political Economy 96: 675–700. Bunting, C., Chan, T.W., Goldthorpe, J., Keaney, E. and Oskala, A. 2008. From indifference to enthusiasm: patterns of arts attendance in England. Arts Council, England.

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Cameron, S. 2011. The creative sector and class of society, ch. 50, Encyclopedia of Creativity, 2nd edn, edited by Mark Runco and Steven Pritzker. Elsevier. London. Douglas, M. and Isherwood, B. 1979. The World of Goods. Allen Lane. London. Frey, B.S., Benesch, C. and Stutzer, A. 2007. Does watching TV make us happy? Journal of Economic Psychology 28(3): 293–313. Gapinksi, J.H. 1984. The economics of performing Shakespeare. American Economic Review 74: 458–466. Halcoussis, D. and Matthews, T. 2007. eBay auctions for Third Eye Blind concert tickets. Journal of Cultural Economics 31(1): 65–78. Kolb, B.M. 1997. Pricing as the key to attracting students to the performing arts. Journal of Cultural Economics 21: 139–146. Lévy-Garboua, L. and Montmarquette, C. 2011. Demand. In R. Towse (ed.) A Handbook of Cultural Economics, 2nd edn. Edward Elgar. Cheltenham, UK.

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3 ART, POLITICS, AND MARKETS Stevphen Shukaitis and Joanna Figiel

Introduction Art, politics, and markets: where are we to begin? Given the amazing degree of variation in understanding each of the areas, trying to pin down how they relate to each other and overlap could easily result in a vast array of possible approaches starting from different conceptions. Taking just two of these areas leads one into vast academic literatures. Given the near impossibility of providing a comprehensive account, this chapter will take a more thematic approach, gesturing to key areas of concern that could and should be explored further. As a starting point, we can consider three particular instances or figures illustrating the relationship between art, market, and politics in interesting ways, some more celebrated as paradigmatic figures of art history than others. First, let us consider Marcel Duchamp. While mentioning Duchamp is almost required in many contexts, he is interesting as a figure precisely for the way he helped to redefine all three areas above, from his involvement with the Dadaists, whose influence is still drawn from heavily in thinking about the politics of art, to transforming what could be understood as art practice itself through the idea of the readymade. In many ways Duchamp can be understood as the avant-garde figure whose shock of the new serves to disrupt and redefine established methods of artistic production, relationship to politics and the functioning of markets (De Duve 1996). Second, we could consider Yves Klein, whose all too short a career in Paris in the midtwentieth century is impressive for how quickly it developed. Klein cultivated a well thought out artistic celebrity image, and likewise maintained links with avant-garde currents of the time. He managed to turn disruptive gestures, from the exhibition of monochromatic paintings, galleries apparently empty of all content, and the patenting of his own shade of blue, into both artistic credibility and financial success. In some of his most interesting pieces he would engage in the sale of an artwork possessing no apparent visible existence in the world, what he would call “zones of immaterial pictorial sensibility,” which he would exchange only for pure gold (Riout 2010; Brougher et al. 2010). Similarly to Duchamp, his practices can be seen to redefine the nature of artistic practice, how value is produced by art, and the politics involved. Finally, we could turn to Gustav Metzger, who as part of the UK art scene in the 1960s developed the idea and practice of autodestructive, as well as autocreative, art. Metzger spent years elaborating a sense of politics based around the power of art institutions and the importance of ecological thinking. He proposed the years 1977–1980 as “years without art” thus helping to develop what has been called since then the idea of the “art strike.” The art strike, along with its more recent iterations, has been taken up as a form of labor struggle and politics 20

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designed to disrupt the gallery system, the role of the artist, and the place of the arts in the cultural economy (Home 1991). These are three figures, moments, or conjunctions of art, politics, and markets. Needless to say there are many more. Starting from here we could frame them in an admittedly crude but hopefully useful model for showing how they relate. This can be done by evaluating particular artists or artistic movements and practices based on their relationship to the market, and whether they tend to emphasize an individual or collective orientation. Does the artist or movement exhibit a particular attitude or relationship to the market (both the art market and more broadly) – does it embrace or celebrate it? Or an attitude that is quite critical of the market, perhaps espousing an anti-capitalist stance or elaborating a different notion of value and social organization? Similarly, for the question of orientation, is it primarily around the notion of individual creation or form of social or collective creation? In this first attempt to frame the relationship between art, markets, and politics we could thus understand artistic politics as formed through how arts and markets relate to each other, in variations of embrace and celebration, to attempts to negate or work around them or to do away with them altogether. Most typically when we think of art and artists there is a tendency to fall back on an assumption of individual artists, the celebration of the artist as the individual genius, the creator of something new out of nothing. This kind of assumption is what leads to any number of news stories about, for instance, the recent sale of some piece by a dead “master” for an astronomical sum of money (Findlay 2012). The celebration of the artist as the individual genius is embedded in a larger set of assumptions about what counts as valuable within the arts and the art world and how this value is produced (Klamer 1996). Likewise this is also connected to the positions of critics and their associated modes of valuing, both in monetary and symbolic terms, works of art. Roger Taylor (1978) has argued that the ethos of the “individual genius” who possesses pregiven creativity or talent blocks off others engaging in artistic activity from seeing themselves as workers. The politics of connecting arts and markets here is found only in enabling the recognition of certain forms of activity as valid, as being art, or in terms of how they are valued. This can be seen to operate through the way that people who work within the arts and creative sectors would not identify themselves as, or be identified as, artists. They do not see themselves as “mere” workers, yet their work is not regarded on the same plane as the work of “the artist.”1 The art market is happy to celebrate the work of the individual artist who is quite critical of capitalism, the state, and the operations of power. In many cases it may actually appreciate the commercial value of certain political approaches, concepts, or understandings precisely because of how they can generate further interest (and sales) in the artist in question. This seems to especially be the case in recent times where the value and social visibility of interventionist art, political art, has increased greatly. As Hans Abbing (2004) has commented, there is perhaps nothing as commercial as the anti-commercial artists. In these cases “politics” becomes the content of a work that can be celebrated, rather than something that is enacted in its form, or the relations involved in the process of artistic production itself, or the kinds of labor that are involved. This is why, for instance, the art world has been more than content to conduct and facilitate endless discussions around precarity, creativity, and the arts – all the while reproducing the very conditions of precarious work and life in terms of funding, labor practices, and arrangements, while engaging in these discussions. Addressing precarity happens at the level of content, rather than by changing the conditions of the art world where the discussion occurs. Nearly diametrically opposed to this are collectively oriented artistic practices openly opposed to market relations. This is where most avant-garde movements, from Constructivism to Surrealism, or those who participated in art strikes, would be placed. There is a tendency for artistic work that falls into this category to be respected less, on the grounds that it is not good art, that 21

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it is propaganda, and thus does not need to be taken very seriously. Or, much of it is simply dismissed as “not art at all.” As Lucy Lippard commented, the art world prefers “museum quality resistance” rather than forms that become too engaged: “art that is too specific, that names, about politics, or place, or anything else, is not marketable until it is abstracted, generalized, defused” (1973: xxi). Collectively oriented practices that are not market-oriented tend to be shaped around enunciating different kinds of value other than market ones, for instance in the Constructivist practice of attempting to build a socialist society through art, or the Surrealist exploration of the collective unconscious. Here we could include artistic practices that are designed to reproduce other forms of social relationships, such as through the idea of artistic citizenship (Schmidt and Martin 2006), or propping up religious authority (Freeland 2001). Here we could also include collectivist activist practices that remain on the fringes of the art world, possibly exploiting the ambiguity of being inside/outside the art world, but which are then read and/or classified as art. In recent years, a number of groups in Europe and in the USA are organizing around the questions of art, labor, and value. In the UK, the Precarious Workers Brigade (PWB) emerged from the Carrotworkers’ Collective that previously worked specifically around the increasing reliance on exploitation of interns and unpaid workers within the art world. Today, PWB have expanded to deal with wider issues of precarious conditions of working and living within in the arts and cultural, as well as education, sectors and beyond. Working between London, Berlin, New York, and Bucharest, Artleaks is a collective platform of artists and curators, focusing on exposing (and naming and shaming) labor exploitation, slander, intimidation, and blackmail occurring within the art world. US-based WAGE, Working Artists in the Greater Economy, have recently finalized a survey about the economic experiences of visual and performing artists who worked with nonprofit arts organizations and museums, finding that “58% of artists who exhibited at a New York nonprofit organization between 2005 and 2010 received no form of payment, compensation or reimbursement – including the coverage of any expenses.” In Denmark, UKK (Unge Kunstnere og Kunstformidlere, or “Young artists and art workers”) have presented a broad survey of working conditions of their members; in Berlin a more informal group, Haben und Brauchen, formed to further discussions around working conditions of artists and cultural producers, as well as the conditions of production and valuation of art and culture, in a city that prides itself on both a thriving art scene and a large number of cultural producers, Berlin.2 Lastly, we could look at practices that are collectively oriented and pro-market. These are comparatively much more rare, but could include figures such as Theaster Gates (2012) who are explicit in their embrace of the market, but do so in order to create other kinds of social relationships. Gates has been quite explicit about his approach of turning art into capital through sales, and then using that capital to acquire property for community development efforts and projects, which then form the social basis for the creation of new art projects. Conceptually this proceeds in a virtuous circle of expansion. Here we could also include the history of artists’ cooperatives, or the formation of cooperatives within Fluxus (readies 2012). Oftentimes here the acceptance of market relations is one of a pragmatic nature, rather than an ideological decision. (Although the same could be argued similarly for forms of art practice rejecting market relations: at times that could be a pragmatic decision.)

Deepening/expanding the model In laying out this model of framing the relationship between politics, art, and the market there is an immediate problem. It is the very problem we began with, namely that a model like this is far too simple. These positions are hard to nail down with this degree of clarity, and change over time. For instance we could look at the ways that collectively oriented anti-market practices 22

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generate interest and social value, which are then rendered by particular artists into personal fame and economic success. This could be called the “Boltanski and Chiapello” (2005) effect for the way they describe how artistic critiques of the market have been absorbed into forming a “new spirit of capitalism” for the present. More importantly, it is clearly the case that the art world, the market, and politics are not one, monolithic thing. Thus the way that art, politics, and markets are related varies immensely by the particular subsection and part of any of them we are discussing. The way in which value is produced there, and the kinds of value that are produced in an overall sense can only be found within the details. In other words, the politics possible within a commercial gallery space would vary quite significantly from those of street art, or the art school, even if these spaces at times cross over each other. Here we could consider the descriptions provided by Sarah Thornton in Seven Days in the Art World (2008). While it is true that Thornton tends to only focus on the shiny and glitzy aspects of the art world, her description and categorization of the worlds of experience found there is quite useful.3 Thornton divides the art world into the space of the auction, the art school crit session, the art fair, prizes and prize giving, art magazine production, the studio space, and the biennale. By breaking the art world down into multiple spaces it becomes clear that it is not a monolith, and that each particular area is engaged in a different form of value production and is animated by varying forms of social relationships. As Thornton herself suggests, the art world is not a system or a smooth functioning machine, but is better understood as a “conflicted cluster of subcultures – each of which embrace different definitions of art” (2008: xix). Each sector could thus be understood to contain a different relationship between art, politics, and markets in that it creates different forms of value by its activity. So when Thornton notes that a Turner Prize nomination increases the selling price for works by an artist by a third, and that winning doubles them (2008: 140) this is a clear indication of how value is produced in that act of prize giving, and thus the politics of articulating a relationship between art and the market. This quickly multiplies the relationship and spaces for co-articulating the relationship between politics, art, and the market. We can thus understand how even for one artist, practice, or movement the politics and value associated with them is not solely found within their own actions, but in how they interact with a distributed set of interactions and roles across a whole range of spaces and institutions. Indeed, even if the focus was limited to a particular city and a particular time, for instance in the way Fletcher and Helmreich (2012) have done with London art markets in the nineteenth century, the social shaping of the art market and the politics of that are quite complex and varied.

Art and value Perhaps rather than getting trapped within the details of the relation between politics, arts, and the market it would be more useful to trace that relation back to a question that connects them all, namely, how is it that art produces value for and in the market? From an understanding of this value production we can then develop an approach to politics. There is always something difficult about directly discussing value formation, and perhaps even more so when discussing how artistic labor produces value. Questions of value production often stand in as a proxy for providing the basis for politics, lending legitimacy to certain kinds of interventions or modes of organizing in Marxist politics, or providing the prime logic for decision making within capitalism. In this sense one can say that in the same way that labor power is more than itself, the question of value production is always more than itself, precisely because of how it connects to other concerns and realities. And this in some ways serves to explain the difficulty in approaching it, for as Diedrich Diederichsen suggests, paraphrasing Marx, “Value, therefore, does not have its description branded on its forehead; 23

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it rather transforms every product of labour into a social hieroglyphic … this hieroglyphic speaks of something, but it is impossible to tell by looking at it what it is speaking of” (2008: 22). The question that concerns us here is the forms of social valuation produced by artistic practices and intervention. Or, taking up the argument of Peter Burger (1984), it would be to ask, if the role of the avant-garde has been to attempt to bring art back into daily life, what modes of interaction and value did this movement produce? In Burger’s narration of the historical avant-garde this becomes a story of a rejection of traditional art institutions and formats that results in transforming the logic of the art institution and art practice more generally, as it comes to value other forms of artistic practice and production than it had before. Antagonism is converted into new forms of artistic productivity. This is not, however, to fall back on an argument that artistic practices are merely reflections of underlying economic structures that determine them, as would likely be the case in an older style of Marxist analysis that relies on a base–superstructure model. As Jacques Attali argued in his important book Noise (1985), modes of artistic production can precede and can actually forecast broader changes in economic interactions. Pascal Gielen (2009) has expanded this argument with his work on the artistic multitude, arguing that the art world served as social laboratory for the development of the post-Fordist work ethic. The purpose of examining changing modes of value and production in the art world is then not necessarily to remain in one’s concerns in the art world. In fact there is too great a tendency for discussions of art and labor to remain within the circuit of concerns of the art world exclusively, rather than considering how these interactions have become more generalized and expanded beyond the art world. But perhaps we are yet again getting a bit ahead of ourselves, as is easy to do in such consideration. Taking a step back, we can return to what seems like should be a quite basic question: when we speak of value being created in an artistic process, value being created by artistic labor, how exactly is that value created? There is something particularly slippery in talking about value production in artistic labor, and that the slipperiness of this discussion can easily lead one back into an almost neoliberal conception of value production, one that could be held even despite the stated intentions of the person who is making claims about artistic labor. What are the main models of value production and labor? For the sake of simplicity, let’s say that there are two main approaches, to which can be added a third form. The first approach would be to argue that value is created through the process of exchange itself. That is to say that value is the product of a social exchange, the outward expression of valuation of whatever goods and services are discussed. Value in this sense is created within the process of exchange itself rather than being a formal characteristic that existed before the exchange process. The best expression of this perhaps can be found in the work of Georg Simmel (2004) and more generally in neoclassical conceptions of value production and utility developed within neoclassical economic thinking but generalized since then. Contrasted to this one could pose a more traditionally Marxist conception of value, which is that value is the substance produced by labor power which is then valorized through circulation and accrued eventually into the further development of capital accumulation. Although this is admittedly a very crude rendering of complex debates around value production, the essential aspect for consideration here is that value is an attribute related to labor itself, and thus value production occurs prior to the exchanges happening within the marketplace. This is Marx’s point about trying to understand commodity production not through an analysis of the market and its appearances, but rather in relation to the labor and value practices that happen within “the hidden abode of production.” Here we should also pause to gesture to models of value production that have extended and developed these ideas in quite fruitful directions, and in particular David Graeber’s (2001) 24

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anthropological model of value production as framework for evaluating the importance of actions and modes of being that are already in motion. Graeber’s work in this direction is formed by the bringing together of Marxist political economy with the ideas and work of Marcel Mauss, and provides a way of thinking of value in a broader sense. This has been taken up by Massimo De Angelis (2007) who expands this into a framework of value practices and value struggles around ways of living. And it could be further expanded along the line that Bruno Gulli (2005, 2010) has sketched out through exploring how labor functions as a core concept for social and political ontologies. Gulli proceeds from his poetic conception of labor to a politics that recuperates what political economy often forgets: culture, care, and ethics of singular becomings not determined by economic value. The main reason why we bring up models of value production is not that we want to get into a long exploration of them, but to point out that they seem to have difficulty when applied to the way that artistic labor produces value. Or, we could rather say, that Marxist approaches of value production come into the greatest difficulty. This can be seen when you take the clichéd scenario of any recent news article that discusses how a particular piece by this or that master artist has sold for some new and unprecedented amount. Now if value is produced by the labor necessary for the creation of the piece, whether that piece is a piece of steel or painting, it does not make sense to say a piece would contain more value one day, rather than on the day before, particularly when the artist has been dead for decades if not centuries. In this case it would be easy enough to take such instances as a kind of false bubble effect of capitalist market relations that bears no semblance to the substance of value contained in the work. And there might be some truth to that, but there is more than just that. The value of the labors of circulation is that which produces the social evaluation of worth or significance of whatever it is in question. For the work of the old master that is now valued in prices beyond all reasonable imagination it is not simply that the piece itself has magically accrued value. Rather, there is a whole industry of discussing and evaluating the importance of artists and their work, displaying and exhibiting them, commenting and discussing, cataloguing and curating, building histories, all the work that creates what Howard Becker (2008) very rightly describes as “art worlds.” The labors of circulation thus are the labors that curators, commentators, galleries, art sales – in short all the figures that make the art world work, that make images and ideas circulate – take part in. This is precisely the point that Isabelle Graw (2010) makes when she describes critics as marketers, which is to say as boosters of art value, and thus participating in a form of labor that amasses symbolic value that can be translated into economic value on the market. Thus it is not the case that a piece has mysteriously managed to increase in value through its own efforts. This is a mystical conception of value, art, and labor. Rather it is the way that the diffuse labors flowing through art worlds come to attach themselves to particular pieces, or are rendered into market prices of these works.

Artistic mode of production What is most useful in thinking about the labor of circulation and how that produces value in art work is less the importance of that dynamic specifically in the art world itself, but more what happens when such a dynamic is spread beyond the boundaries of the specific artist economy and becomes a more general dynamic. Or as Chin-Tao Wu has argued in her book Privatising Culture, the way that art, the business world, and politics have entered a “clandestine symbiotic relationship” through which those enmeshed in the overlapping of these networks (for instance the Saatchis) find themselves in an ideal position to transform economic capital into cultural 25

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capital as well as cultural capital into economic capital, all mediated through the circulatory auras of the art world (2002: 120). This could be described, following the work of Sharon Zukin (1989), as the rise of an artistic mode of production, one based upon utilizing the same dynamics of circulatory labor in the remodeling of lifestyles, neighborhoods, and ways of life into a generalized mode of value production. It can be recalled that Zukin’s work looked at the transformation of Manhattan in the 1960s and 1970s as former industrial spaces were taken over first by artists who used them as combined studio and work spaces. This is the emergence of the “loft economy” and transformation of lower Manhattan from an industrial space to another form of value production. This is when a sign proclaiming “artist in residence” was hung not for the purpose of advertising some snazzy new program, but rather to inform the fire department that there were people living in these industrial spaces (which they would not have otherwise assumed). This use of former industrial space for mixed use, the complete combining of living and working into an integrated mode of artistic production, becomes a key model for schemes of urban renewal and development based around the cultural cachet of the arts. This model ends up forming a mode of gentrification and development that is applied far beyond the context of New York, and is used to fuel property development in many other locations. In Zukin’s description of this process in New York the main victims of it were not the local residents, but the workers from the workspaces that were displaced. And so, importantly, artists end up finding themselves acting as inadvertent proxy in the gentrification process, for real estate booms and investment, with the “bohemian” lifestyles afforded by these spaces serving as model for imitation by the middle class. Artists also further develop modes of combining work and life that by the impossibility of clearly separating them end up serving as a way to intensify and deepen forms of labor and attachment to work when they are generalized beyond the arts economy specifically. This argument has been explored by Böhm and Land (2009) specifically looking at the ways in which notions of value are shaped within cultural policy discourse, and how they have shifted over time. Böhm and Land argue that in the UK over the past 15 years there was a shift in how value in the cultural economy is conceived: from an earlier conception that the value of the arts is their potential to generate revenue to one of forms of indirect value creation, such as generating creativity, fostering employability and social inclusion, and other such conditions. Arguably in recent years there has been a shift away from this indirect model of artistic value creation back to the direct production of revenue. The ongoing economic and social crises have certainly contributed to this trend, or perhaps more accurately provided a convenient explanation for it. Regardless of changing trends in arts and cultural policy, it is this social value of the arts and cultural labor, how they take part in renewing social bonds and sociality more generally, that is precisely not recognized or rewarded. As Randy Martin argues, the connection created by the artwork is the work of art itself; art makes exchange possible but is not of it (1990: 83) – and therefore paradoxically falls out of the accounting of the labors involved in maintaining the conditions, the very forms of sociability, that make possible exchange itself.

An ‘exceptional arts economy’? Finally, let us end with a brief consideration of whether the economy of the arts is exceptional. This is the question asked by the economist Hans Abbing in his book Why Are Artists Poor? (2004). His answer involves an analysis of the mixed structures of motivation, value, and outcomes that characterize the art world – how it is suspended, and torn between an economy based on gifts and social values, and market-oriented values. But the formulation of the arts as exceptional is problematic, because even if this once was the case, the expansion of the arts and 26

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cultural economy, and its structures of motivation and relationship to work, has spread far beyond the borders of the art world. The passionate and self-motivated labor of the artisan, which has long been part of explaining why artists are willing to accept less desirable working conditions and income because of the (supposedly) higher degree of meaning found in their work, has been taken up by management theory and practices within the knowledge economy and post-Fordist working practices. This does not mean that it is no longer interesting or worthwhile to analyze the politics of art markets and cultures, but rather that these dynamics have become much more important precisely because they have been generalized further beyond the art world itself. Further, to draw from the idea of Pierre Bourdieu and Howard Becker, we could say that the art worlds have moved from existing mainly as a form of social reproduction (taste as class structure) to a position much more directly enmeshed in production. The relationship between art, markets, and politics is thus one of a composition of forces: forms of labor, political action, and social life that are intermingled together. Politics is not separate from the relations of the art world, it cannot be relegated to the content of artistic production. For arts marketing politics is found in the articulation of the relationship between art and the market, and the forms of organization and sociality that emerge and that are sustained by that very conjunction.

Further reading Abbing, Hans (2004) Why Are Artists Poor?: The Exceptional Economy of the Arts. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press. (Interesting consideration of the relationship between arts and markets by an author who is both a practicing artist and trained economist.) Bryan-Wilson, J. (2009) Art Workers: Radical Practice in the Vietnam War Era. Berkeley: University of California Press. (This is an excellent historical study of the relationship between art, politics, and labor in the USA in the 1960s. It focuses primarily on groups such as the Art Workers’ Coalition and associated figures such as Carl Andre, Robert Morris, and Lucy Lippard.) Gielen, Pascal (2009) The Murmuring of the Artistic Multitude: Global Art, Memory and Post-Fordism. Amsterdam: Valiz. (A more sociological account of the relationship between art and labor, one which lays out an argument for the arts sector as developing changes in labor and organization before the rest of the economy more generally.) Precarious Workers Brigade, various texts and resources: http://precariousworkersbrigade.tumblr.com/ Wu, Chin-Tao (2002) Privatising Culture: Corporate Art Intervention since the 1980s. London: Verso. (Insightful analysis of the circuits and overlaps between the art world and the corporate world, particularly in terms of how cultural capital and economics support each other (and manage to avoid paying taxes in the process).)

Notes 1

2

It might very well be objected at this point that this paints all art markets as the same, lumping together many different forms of projects, practices, and approaches. Does not it make any difference between whether the approach is profit or nonprofit, or is there some neoliberal logic that permeates all art practice, a logic of individualization? And is there not a risk of taking understandings of certain spheres and areas of artistic activity more than likely privileging the fine arts over other forms (such as film, music, performance)? Or confusing an analysis of the conditions of a particular place with a more general argument? Indeed these are quite real dangers. For this chapter we will start with quite broad strokes, which will then be broken down to look at the infinitely more complicated conditions found within the immense variations of various artistic fields and endeavors. For more information on these groups see: Precarious Workers Brigade (http://precariousworkersbrigade. tumblr.com/); Artleaks (http://art-leaks.org); WAGE, Working Artists in the Greater Economy (www.wageforwork.com); UKK, Unge Kunstnere og Kunstformidlere, or “Young artists and art workers” (http://www.ukk.dk); Haben und Brauchen (www.habenundbrauchen.de).

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Although Thornton’s (2008) accounts tend to omit those in lower rank positions, she does include accounts of work of studio and gallery assistants. Yet still, the chapters that mention the low-paid art workers are centered on the glamor and the glitz of the situations they describe, and fail to include any interviews or insights into the actual daily work processes, politics, and organization of work.

References Abbing, Hans (2004) Why Are Artists Poor?: The Exceptional Economy of the Arts. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press. Attali, Jacques (1985) Noise: The Political Economy of Music. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Becker, Howard (2008) Art Worlds. Berkley: University of California Press. Böhm, Steffen and Land, Chris (2009) “No Measure for Culture? Value in the New Economy,” Capital & Class 97: 75–98. Boltanski, L. and E. Chiapello, (2005) The New Spirit of Capitalism. London: Verso. Brougher, Kerry, Philippe Vergne, and Klaus Ottmann (2010) Yves Klein: With the Void, Full Powers. Washington, DC: Walker Art Center. Burger, Peter (1984) Theory of the Avant-Garde. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. De Angelis, Massimo (2007) The Beginning of History: Value Struggles and Global Capital. London: Pluto. De Duve, Thierry (1996) Kant after Duchamp. Cambridge, MA: MIT University Press. Diederichsen, Diedrich (2008) On (Surplus) Value in Art. Berlin: Sternberg Press. Findlay, Michael (2012) The Value of Art: Money, Power, Beauty. London: Prestel Publishing. Fletcher, Pamela and Anne Helmreich (eds) (2012) The Rise of the Modern Art Market in London, 1850– 1939. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Freeland, Cynthia A. (2001) But Is It Art? An Introduction to Art Theory. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Gates, Theaster (2012) Theaster Gates: 12 Ballads for Huguenot House. Cologne: Walther Konig. Gielen, Pascal (2009) The Murmuring of the Artistic Multitude: Global Art, Memory and Post-Fordism. Amsterdam: Valiz. Graeber, David (2001) Toward an Anthropological Theory of Value: The False Coin of Our Own Dreams. New York: Palgrave. Graw, Isabelle (2010) High Price: Art between the Market and Celebrity Culture. Berlin: Sternberg Press. Gulli, Bruno (2005) Labor of Fire: The Ontology of Labor between Economy and Culture. Philadelphia, PA: Temple University Press. Gulli, Bruno (2010) Earthly Plenitudes: A Study on Sovereignty and Labor. Philadelphia, PA: Temple University Press. Home, Stewart (1991) The Neoist Manifestos/The Art Strike Papers. Stirling: AK Press. Klamer, Arjo (ed.) (1996) The Value of Culture: On the Relationship between Economics and Arts. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press. Lippard, Lucy (1973) Six Years: The Dematerialization of the Art Object. New York: Praeger. Martin, Randy (1990) Performance as Political Act: The Embodied Self. New York: Praeger. readies, dj (2012) Intimate Bureaucracies. Brooklyn, NY: Punctum Books. Riout, Denys (2010) Yves Klein: Expressing the Immaterial. Paris: Editions Dilecta. Schmidt, Mary and Randy Martin (eds) (2006) Artistic Citizenship: A Public Voice for the Arts. New York: Routledge. Simmel, Georg (2004) The Philosophy of Money. New York: Routledge. Taylor, Roger (1978) Art, an Enemy of the People. London: Harvester Press. Thornton, Sarah (2008) Seven Days in the Art World. London: Granta. Wu, Chin-Tao (2002) Privatising Culture: Corporate Art Intervention since the 1980s. London: Verso. Zukin, Sharon (1989) Loft Living: Culture and Capital in Urban Change. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press.

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4 ARTS MARKETING AND ETHICS What you can and Kant do Terry O’Sullivan

Introduction In this chapter I want to explore the ethical nature of arts marketing. In particular I hope to demonstrate that, in spite of its common-sense appeal and affinity with the marketing concept of customer benefit, Utilitarianism (i.e. an approach to ethics that focuses on consequences) is of limited use in helping us do arts marketing ethically. While acknowledging the partial relevance of a Utilitarian approach, I will argue that the deontological approach to ethics associated with Immanuel Kant (1724–1804) is a surer guide to reflective, responsible and sustainable arts marketing practice. While it could be argued that this is true of all applications of marketing, it is peculiarly so in the context of the arts because of the respect for human autonomy implicit in the aims of arts organizations. Nantel and Weeks argued for the inclusion of a Kantian perspective to complement what they saw as the Utilitarian approach on which marketing is grounded ‘by its very definition’ (1996: 9). My aim in this chapter is to argue, in contrast, that ‘by its very definition’ arts marketing is more appropriately based on Kantian ethics. At the outset, therefore, a definition of arts marketing is called for. On a common-sense level we might all agree that it involves using marketing techniques to promote the experience of the arts – for example ‘how to get more customers to watch Shakespeare’(O’Reilly 2005: 585). Laudable as swelling audiences for the Swan of Avon may be, the aim of arts marketing, if it is genuinely to promote the experience of the arts, can be extended a good deal further. Hill et al. (2003: 1) define it as ‘an integrated management process which sees mutually satisfying exchange relationships with customers as the route to achieving organisational and artistic objectives’.

The moral purpose of arts marketing Like social marketing, arts marketing seeks to achieve objectives that go beyond the financial returns driving commercial marketing (though its complete set of objectives is likely to include them). In the case of social marketing, such objectives cover pro-social ends such as healthier lifestyles or better environmental stewardship. In the case of arts marketing, the ‘organisational and artistic objectives’ mentioned in our definition might include the facilitation of aesthetic experience and expression, personal and community flourishing for artists and audiences, and

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the maintenance and development of a stable and innovative arts economy. While there will often be a societal dimension to these aims (for example social inclusion), they are essentially in the service of an artistic vision which demands to be shared with others, as audiences and participants. In spite of the temptation to consider audiences as passive and participants as active, the nature of the arts as a service means that either form of sharing assumes active customers, and intense arts experience demands a high degree of active orientation (‘eyes on stalks, not bums on seats’ in the memorable slogan of the radical theatre company Welfare State International (Fox 2002)). In fact, arts marketing has long been an example of what has become an influential contemporary orthodoxy seeing marketing as collaboration between customers and suppliers (Prahalad and Ramaswamy 2004). If the purpose of business is to create and keep customers (Drucker 1954: 37), arts marketing is about creating and keeping customers with the capacity to be actively engaged in artistic experience. A fundamental element of such capacity is what we might call ‘autonomy’ – in other words the freedom to respond and participate fully and critically, untrammelled by manipulation or illusion. This has implications for the ethical framework within which arts marketing operates, because it necessitates marketing that prioritizes respect for, and promotion of, individuals’ autonomy. Arts marketers, like the artists whose work they promote, tend to be driven by a sense of mission. This, while not guaranteeing their ethical probity, does at least suggest a measure of integrity. Whether in arts organizations (typically in junior positions relative to general or artistic managers) or as freelancers employed from project to project, they form part of the ‘precariat’ of workers in the creative and cultural industries (Gill and Pratt 2008; Standing 2011), sacrificing financial security and stable working conditions to their evangelical commitment to the cause. A glance at the arts recruitment pages suggests that nobody is doing it for the money, leaving personal values and idealism as the prime motivators for individuals working in the sector. We can therefore expect arts marketers to be receptive to the need to incorporate appropriate ethics into their practice. This chapter attempts to articulate the basis for such ethics, leaving practitioners free to elaborate their own approaches in sympathy with it, but in a way that responds to their individual contexts.

Ethical problems in arts marketing What are the possible ethical outcomes of arts marketing activity? One way of getting some perspective on this question, and discerning what might differentiate arts marketing ethics from those manifested in other applications of marketing, would be to categorize them against a norm for marketing more generally. According to Schlegelmilch and Oberseder (2010) in a survey of 50 years of marketing ethics literature, the most-cited empirical study of ethical dilemmas experienced in marketing practice is by Chonko and Hunt (1985). Based on a survey of American marketing practitioners asking what job situation ‘poses the most difficult ethical or moral problem for you?’ (1985: 343), it obviously predates the many ethical dilemmas thrown into sharp relief for marketers by subsequent social and technological developments, such as the Internet and associated technologies (data protection, privacy, piracy, etc.). But ethical issues presented by, for example, information management were still manifest in the 1980s even if pervasive computing was not. Chonko and Hunt’s list is headed by six broadly defined problems which stand out in particular: bribery, fairness, honesty, price, product and personnel. In spite of the passage of several decades, these themes still provide a serviceable checklist for analysing generic ethical issues in marketing practice, and so remain relevant as a way of structuring a discussion of those which arise from arts marketing.

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Bribery to obtain contracts, the issue of most concern to mid-1980s American marketing managers, is unlikely to trouble most arts marketers these days. However, it does raise the broader question of governance of resources in arts organizations. It could be argued that the ethical expectations borne by marketers in the arts are more exacting than those applied to their purely commercial peers when it comes to stewardship. Often, the organizations and activities they promote benefit from charitable status, public funding, or public mandate from national or local government. High standards of propriety in areas such as purchasing and communication are essential to preserve trust and credibility for a function which typically commands one of the largest budgets in an arts organization and is primarily concerned with the organization’s image and messages. The widespread use of discounting as a promotional tool raises the question of how patronage is ‘bought’ in the arts through membership schemes and promotional discounts, and how such tactics (which could be argued to favour existing patrons rather than attract new ones) cohere with espoused strategies of audience development. Particularly where public subsidy is involved, questions of propriety come into play regarding financial incentives for customers. ‘Fairness’ comes next in Chonko and Hunt’s list. Less specific than bribery, this category covers manipulation or exploitation of others, selling unnecessary services, arbitrary price differentials between customers, and taking credit for the work of others. We have already alluded to the issue of price differentials. Other aspects of fairness have particular resonance in an arts marketing context. The idea of selling irrelevant services is an example. Arts marketing, insofar as it shares educational aims, implies a fiduciary role of introducing audiences to unfamiliar experiences (whether new audiences to established work, or experienced audiences to new work). The fiduciary element involves a judgement that the experience will be relevant and valuable to the intended audience. It could be argued that, with notable exceptions, a considerable amount of arts marketing involves replicating a model of artistic excellence that is of dubious relevance to the audiences targeted but reflects the concerns, values and aspirations of producers. In reaction to this concern Arthurs and Radbourne (2007) report a project attempting to re-imagine models of orchestral repertoire, presentation and promotion more relevant to contemporary audiences. Nevertheless, much programming in classical music still revolves around a core of symphonic work which makes considerable demands on the attention and concentration from audiences, deferring the inexperienced attender. Fairness also relates to access to the arts, reflecting the key element of place or distribution in arts marketing. This is not just a case of widening access to new audiences (important as that is). It also involves ensuring access to a wider range of arts experience to reflect inclusivity on the supply side. Kerrigan and Özbilgin (2002) identify an ethical gap between espoused national policy on film distribution in the UK at the turn of the century, and actual film marketing practice which, in spite of public incentives to widen choice for UK filmgoers, merely reinforced the power of Hollywood in limiting the available repertoire. Analysing the problem in terms of the conflict between ‘shareholder’ and ‘stakeholder’ interests, they call for a more proactive regulatory environment for film marketing to ensure distributive justice. In this article and later work (Kerrigan and Özbilgin 2004) they underline the macro-environmental pressures that shape ethical practice in arts marketing, providing an illustration of how conditions affecting the ‘mutually satisfying exchanges’ referred to by Hill et al. (2003: 1) are not confined to the immediate relationship between arts organizations and their patrons. Arts marketers thus need to be conscious of the need to address such pressures through ‘upstream’ activity such as lobbying and mobilizing opinion to support change as appropriate. A similar note is struck by Larsen and Lawson (2012), developing the notion of consumer rights as a policy framework at odds with actual distribution patterns in the arts. They point to

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increased concentration (i.e. fewer, bigger players dominating the market) in the promotion and supply of live popular music as an example of how trends that favour industry financial interests act against the interests of distributive justice for consumers in the form of increased prices and reduced choice (Krueger 2005; Crain and Tollinson 2002). Honesty is Chonko and Hunt’s third most mentioned problem, covering misrepresentation and being economical with the truth in ways that undermine customer interests. They found that honesty was a particular problem in service industries, which suggests its salience in arts marketing because of its service orientation. Kubacki and Croft (2004) highlight the dissatisfaction of musicians in two European countries with what they see as dishonest industry marketing practices, effectively replacing the authentic vision and emotion of artists at a personal level with pre-manufactured marketing images. Not only does this threaten to weary consumers with homogenized product, but it also reduces the perceived individuality of musicians themselves as brands, cancelling out a potential source of differentiation. Kubacki and Croft’s research interviews revealed two kinds of musician: the ‘artists’ who rejected marketing out of hand as a betrayal of their art, and the ‘promoters’ who rejected the ‘corporate’ approach but saw marketing at a personal level as a moral imperative to reach wider audiences. Interestingly as a reflection on potential complexity of reasoning in arts marketing ethics, each group was convinced of the moral basis of its attitude. Honesty is also important for Bouissac (1987) writing with reference to the performing arts. He suggests that ‘accountability and its correlative concept of risk’ is fundamental to what makes arts marketing different from marketing any other kind of service: ‘cash is paid in advance on the faith in a promise’ (p. 395). One could argue that this applies to services other than the arts, although the sense of unique occasion that surrounds artistic performance in a theatre or concert hall (and the specific time and place necessary to a gallery visit) throws the element of risk into particularly sharp relief. Risk underlines the ethical imperative to be as honest as possible to customers in advance. Bouissac argues that what marketing does in advance of a performance is to begin to tell a story which can only be completed by attendance at the event. Good faith is therefore essential. He concludes that ‘its advertising is a functional part’ of any performance being marketed (p. 395). Promotion being integral to the offer is not peculiar to the arts, as is evident from the importance of branding to consumers in many markets. But there is a sense in which arts marketers have more of a duty than most to lead audiences to an experience in a way that is consistent and continuous with the experience itself if they are to respect and nurture an autonomous capacity to respond to art. Honesty, and the trust it begets, is therefore a crucial ethical dimension of arts marketing. Tying with honesty in third place for Chonko and Hunt is the related area of pricing – covering differential pricing (i.e. different prices for different customer groups) and pricing in a way that takes advantage of market conditions to the detriment of customer welfare. As we have already observed with reference to fairness above, pricing policies in the arts reflect a wide range of factors and organizational priorities, but such priorities need to preserve customer welfare. Sometimes the physical environment presented by a venue offers explicit justification for differences in price between tickets (for example a seat with a limited view of the performance area will be less desirable than a more central one). A range of prices can enhance benefits to customers through the opportunity of ‘trading up’ to a better seat, perhaps to mark a special occasion, to relish a particularly keenly anticipated performance, or just to express a moment of conspicuous consumption. Choosing a cheaper seat, by contrast, can mitigate the risk of an unfamiliar work. But there are other pricing situations, for example the practice of imposing booking fees in addition to the face price of a ticket which seem not to offer any consumer benefit except the facility to purchase at a distance rather than in person, or even to purchase a ticket at all. Here 32

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marketers should take the opportunity to explain what lies behind the pricing decision in order to reduce a sense of exploitation – particularly where the customer appears to be at a power disadvantage in the exchange. Notably some venues have imposed their own controls to prevent unethical marketing by patrons themselves under conditions of high demand – retaining ownership of paper tickets at all times and threatening to void tickets resold for profit or commercial gain by individuals (RSC 2012). Product was Chonko and Hunt’s fifth most frequently mentioned factor, though one might expect it to feature further up an arts marketing ethics issues list given the central role accorded to product orientation in the arts (Butler 2000; Hirschman 1983). The primacy of product makes it difficult to question this element of the mix in an arts marketing context, not only in the light of assumed market demand against planned artistic policy, but also from an ethical perspective. We have briefly discussed the issue of irrelevant services which place corporate over customer interests under fairness above. But it could also be argued that choice of repertoire, by potentially cementing a view of high or low culture in place, may help perpetuate the social divisions associated with such demarcation (Carey 2005) and thus contribute to wider injustices. In a similar vein, restricting repertoire to relatively low-risk familiar works might have attractive short-term revenue or reputational implications for an organization or performer, but excludes alternative material to the detriment of inclusivity, choice and – crucially for our argument supporting customer autonomy – the development of a more widely experienced and thus independent customer in the longer term. Artistic product also raises questions of provenance and ownership. This is not limited to the complex issues opened up by intellectual property rights in a digital environment, where traditional notions of ownership and control struggle to keep pace with consumer behaviour which can involve appropriating, reworking and reproducing content at and beyond the limits of legality. Provenance and ownership also relate to the intricate networks of responsibilities accompanying production and consumption in the arts and related industries. Brennan and Savage (2012) for example propose a clearer ethical framework in which the tourism industry can prevent souvenirs based on indigenous art from having negative consequences for originating communities. Brennan and Savage’s claim for the potential of something as commonplace as tourism souvenirs to promote respectful intercultural understanding, instead of stereotyping and condescension, can be scaled up to apply to how marketers might frame any kind of arts experience emanating from, or portraying, unfamiliar cultures, more or less ethically. This is likely to lead to more challenging, questioning types of arts experience for customers, again developing them as autonomous critical participants rather than leaving them reliant on outmoded and potentially damaging stereotypes. A further ethical issue arising from product is raised by Walmsley (2011) who, even in a relatively small sample of respondents in a qualitative study of motivations for theatregoing, found evidence of audience behaviour bordering on the obsessive with ‘some participants admitting to following shows around the world and others spending almost all their spare time and money on theatre’ in pursuit of the intense emotions available (p. 347). He argues that while emotionbased marketing clearly constitutes an opportunity for theatre producers, they need to be aware of their responsibilities to consider and manage the potential effects on their audiences. It could be argued that obsessive ‘fan’ behaviour like this is over-represented in the literature relative to its actual incidence amongst audiences (Hills 2002), but nevertheless Walmsley makes a valid point about how arts marketers owe a duty of care to their customers. Sixth on Chonko and Hunt’s list is personnel, covering hiring, firing and staff evaluation. Personnel issues are, Chonko and Hunt point out, common to any organizational context, not just marketing, particularly the ‘back office’ ones involving administrative, procedural and interactional fairness between employees (Folger and Cropanzano 1998). However, the power 33

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imbalance inherent in many arts organizations between senior artistic managers and junior marketing and publicity staff may lead to the disproportionate manifestation of unfairness in the sector. There is evidence to suggest that bullying is a particular problem in the cultural industries because of the licence granted by ‘artistic temperament’ (Quigg 2011). As we have noted earlier, employment conditions in the arts tend to be relatively precarious, rendering staff vulnerable to exploitation and limiting rewards. It could be objected that this is an issue affecting arts marketers from the poor ethical practice of others rather than one relevant to arts marketing as an activity itself. However, its unchallenged acceptance may lead to its perpetuation, perhaps internally within the marketing function, and express a lack of respect for the individual which may affect other aspects of an organization’s marketing approach in a way that compromises its artistic mission by objectifying customers. This brief survey of potential ethical problems for arts marketers, structured by generic categories and illustrated by relevant literature, suggests respect for the individual as a thematic emphasis which might distinguish arts marketing ethics from those governing other applications of marketing. Governance, fairness, honesty and defensible pricing, product and personnel policies are each fundamental to creating the conditions for sustainable exchange relationships between organizations and individuals. But more than this, in an arts context they also help create customers who are receptive to artistic experience and capable of participating in the achievement of artistic objectives. Thus, objections to the inauthentic promotion of music in Kubacki and Croft (2004) are ultimately based on the dilution of the available experience for customers, and the consequent limitation of their potential development as music lovers. As we have argued following Kerrigan and Özbilgin (2002, 2004) and Brennan and Savage (2012), ethical concern for customer development in line with artistic policy implies a marketing responsibility to the art form as well. Marketers as in the arts need to embrace breadth of available experience as a priority, and find appropriate ways of framing it to avoid audiences becoming switched off and overly dependent on the familiar. Just as musicians and performers need to keep in touch with contemporary or neglected works to stay fresh in their techniques, so their audiences need to be led to the unfamiliar to avoid being deskilled as participants. The notion of leading customers to the unfamiliar, and perhaps the uncomfortable, seems to be at odds with marketing’s expected emphasis on ‘offerings that have value for customers’ (at least as articulated in their own terms) (AMA 2007). Promoting autonomy in customers sounds like hard work not only for marketers, but, problematically, for customers themselves. Is the use of marketing consistent with furthering artistic objectives in their fullest sense (which includes promoting difficult work to develop the arts customer’s capacity to participate)? This question is not an attempt to reiterate the debate between art and commerce as referred to by, for example, Bradshaw (2010) or by some of the respondents in Kubacki and Croft (2004). Instead, the question is whether marketing viewed as an institution, or as a more local technology involving customers and suppliers, has something about it which might negate rather than further artistic mission. This is not just a practical question but an ethical one if, as we are arguing, artistic mission involves promoting autonomy as a form of customer welfare.

Arts experience as a laudable end Before discussing marketing’s ability to support artistic mission, we need to justify the worth of arts experience in a way that positions it as somehow more serious and morally valuable than entertainment or pleasure alone (important as those may be as components of the

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whole). Entertainment and pleasure on their own do not require the same kind of independent response from the consumer as art does and so do not imply the same kind of critical autonomy. It is dangerous to generalize, but we tend to understand them as more immediately accessible than art, making fewer demands on the consumer. This reawakens uncomfortable echoes of elitist distinctions between ‘high’ and ‘low’ culture (which appear increasingly irrelevant to contemporary audiences anyway). But we need to establish the arts’ claim to being in some sense good for us in a way that entertainment and pleasure, good as they are, are not, in order to treat the ethics of arts marketing differently from marketing in any other context. This is a controversial area. Carey (2005) is sceptical of the reverence accorded art since the eighteenth century when the word ‘aesthetic’ entered the vocabulary. Carey claims that Immanuel Kant’s Critique of Judgement (1790) by insisting on beauty as an absolute, abstract concept, separate from and superior to pleasure, has infused a creepily sanctimonious tone into our thinking about ‘proper’ aesthetic experience. According to Kant, things like emotion, sensual pleasure and even usefulness, have no necessary relationship with beauty. It’s an austere view of artistic experience (but consonant, as we shall see later, with Kant’s very clear conception of how things like emotion, pleasure and even utility can compromise our freedom as autonomous moral agents). Carey (2005: 10) argues that the separation of beauty from pleasure can also encourage a confusion of artistic with moral worth, calling Kant as his witness: All aesthetic judgements are, consequently, ethical as well. ‘Now I say the beautiful is the symbol of the morally good, and that it is only in this respect’, Kant admonishes, ‘that it gives pleasure’. The resulting ‘farrago of superstition and unsubstantiated assertion’, in Carey’s memorable phrase, has led to a situation where we consider art to occupy a hallowed space, set apart from the mundanity of life (art as spiritual even in a materialist world), from economics (art opposed to commerce) and from the sexual (art as distinct from pornography). Regrettably such highminded divisions have also developed into social ones between the cultured few who appreciate art and the philistine many, separated at best by mutual incomprehension, at worst by mutual contempt. Carey hammers home his case against assuming any intrinsic moral value for art by pointing to the veneration accorded to art in Nazi Germany. One might object that the kind of state-sponsored art and architecture associated with totalitarianism is resoundingly, and demonstrably, bad. But, notoriously, even Hitler had an ear for what we now consider to be great music. Clearly, then, good art does not necessarily make us good people (although Carey does acknowledge the therapeutic benefit of the arts in prisons and in cases of depression). However, we can agree with Kant that beauty can stand as a symbol of the morally good without taking the further step that there is something intrinsically morally worthy about art (as a source of beauty) itself . Indeed, that is a step that Kant himself would not have taken. One of Kant’s central ethical doctrines, articulated early on in the Groundwork of the Metaphysic of Morals (1785), is that there is nothing conceivable ‘in the world, or even out of it, which can be taken as good without qualification, except a good will’ (Kant 2008 [1785]: 507). We will discuss the nature and implications of a ‘good will’ later in the chapter, but it is difficult to argue with Kant’s point that, beyond this one exception, we need ‘qualification’ (that is, an account of the

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circumstances in which something takes place) in order to use the term ‘good’ meaningfully about the arts, or anything else, from an ethical point of view. On the other hand, even if we cannot accord the arts moral worth in themselves, we can at least acknowledge they offer the opportunity for moral and intellectual development of some sort: ‘[I]f you think of a society without the arts, without cultivation and without ideas that come from the arts it will undoubtedly be a much less agreeable and much less civilized place, and I have no doubt whatever that we behave in a much better way because of the time we spend with the arts.’ Thus wrote John Tusa (2005), then the chief executive of London’s Barbican arts centre, in a newspaper feature reacting to Carey (2005). It’s difficult to engage fully with Tusa’s proposed thought-experiment, implying as it does a unidirectional movement of ideas and cultivation from the arts to society rather than the enmeshed, symbiotic relationship that the arts have with ideas, society and the whole notion of cultivation. And one could easily interpret the better behaviour invoked at the end of the extract as having as much to do with manners as with morals. But the point about the developmental role of the arts is valid, and the social benefits to which Tusa alludes have an ethical dimension. In explaining its support for the arts, Arts Council England stakes a similar claim for social and individual enhancement through artistic experience (adding the qualifier of ‘great’ which assumes a degree of consensus on quality at which Carey (2005) might cavil): ‘Great art and culture inspires us, brings us together and teaches us about ourselves and the world around us. In short, it makes life better’ (ACE 2011). Analysing and categorizing more systematically quite how it makes life better, the US National Endowment for the Arts posits a system map of arts activity, anatomizing its cognitive and emotional benefits to individuals, its civic and economic benefits to communities, and its capacity-building effects in innovation and expression more widely (NEA 2012). In the UK, the pioneering work of the Museums, Libraries and Archives Council on Generic Learning Outcomes (MLA 2008) presents an exhaustive typology of benefits focused on the individual learning experiences available from museums (Knowledge and Understanding; Skills; Attitudes and Values; Enjoyment, Inspiration, Creativity; and Activity, Behaviour and Progression), alongside Generic Social Outcomes at a community level (Stronger and Safer Communities; Strengthening Public Life; and Health and Well Being). These outcomes, verifiable through qualitative and quantitative research as suggested by the MLA, have clear parallels in benefits available from other forms of arts experience besides those available in museums and galleries. From the general, somewhat nebulous, goods articulated by Tusa and the Arts Council to the closer-grained, empirically testable learning gains itemized by the MLA, it is clear that there is considerable scope for arts organizations to claim value for their missions from social and individual ‘improvement’ above and beyond the entertainment and pleasure they may generate. However uncomfortably moralistic a ring that idea may have, it is nevertheless consonant with the Arts Council of England’s manifesto of making life better. Carey’s (2005) objections to muddy thinking and elitism in valuing the arts seem less warranted the closer you get to the quantifiable results implied by the NEA (2012) and MLA (2008) (although it will always be difficult to make hard and fast connections between a putative cause like exposure to the arts and a complex social effect like health or well-being). The more qualitative benefits of self-actualization and mutual understanding common to the cited accounts of what’s good about the arts (ACE 2011; MLA 2008; NEA 2012; Tusa 2005) introduce an ethical dimension with which any attempt to promote the arts must be consistent. For example it would not make sense to use manipulation or coercion to attract a consumer to an arts event if the point of their attendance is (at least in part) to enhance their understanding of self and others. 36

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What’s the matter with marketing? To support an emancipatory outcome, arts marketing must itself be emancipatory. However, by calling itself ‘marketing’ as opposed to promotion or publicity, arts marketing is making a claim to being something more coherent than just an assemblage of techniques. Our definition (Hill et al. 2003: 1) underlined exchange relationships as the basis of a technical understanding of marketing as a function, stipulating that both parties to the exchange are satisfied as a result. Furthermore, by referring to the integrated nature of the process, the definition implies its foundation on a philosophy of customer orientation (any ‘integrated management process’ needs to be philosophically as well as operationally coherent). These two aspects of marketing (as function based on exchange, and as philosophy based on customer orientation) have separate ethical implications at first sight. A function sounds as if it ought to be innocent itself, but judged on its outcome in a particular context. A philosophy, on the other hand, is shot through with moral ramifications. The function/philosophy distinction becomes less clear cut under scrutiny. Hastings (2007: 173), writing about social marketing (that is, marketing in the service of pro-social ends in which we might include the arts), argues that ‘marketing is an amoral technology that, provided it is controlled properly, can bring about great good’. While not denying the good to be brought about by social marketing, and the moral worth bestowed on social marketing in practice by such good, we may still harbour doubts as to marketing’s intrinsically amoral status. After all, any technology expresses a theory of how the world works. It could be argued that, whatever it is used for, marketing’s assumptions (for example that exchanges between buyers and sellers are voluntary, or even that mutually satisfying exchanges are possible in an unequal world) imbue it from the outset with a morally charged point of view which emphasizes agency over structure. Marketing could be accused of flattering consumers that they are freer than they actually are from the constraints imposed by social and economic context. As Hackley (2003) points out, constructing marketing as a neutral technical discipline is popular with its apologists, and is a classic ideological strategy (O’Reilly 2006). The concept of an amoral technology, effectively an ‘innocent tool’, is, therefore, problematical. The deployment of marketing in the arts, as elsewhere, furthers a particular view of reality founded on certain psychological, economic and social premises. In this sense, the tools of marketing imply and express its philosophy, and they become morally charged as a result. In spite of this, much of the general marketing ethics literature from the 1960s onwards takes it for granted that marketing is indeed an amoral technology, whose abuse presents us with moral issues, rather than something to be questioned on its own account. Schlegelmilch and Oberseder’s (2010) previously cited review of half a century of work in the field identifies 18 topic streams treated by writers on marketing ethics (e.g. issues related to product, issues related to price, etc.). These all refer to applications of marketing rather than the intrinsic nature of marketing itself. A less extensive but more recent literature under the banner of ‘critical marketing’ does question the ‘amoral technology’ view of marketing, seeing it as part of a systemic ideological process which perpetuates power inequalities in society. In fairness to Hastings (2007), it should be stressed that social marketers have been in the vanguard of this critical movement, framing the adverse effects of much marketing activity as competition to be countered by social marketing (Lazar and Kelley 1973). They emphasize the need to move upstream from consumers themselves to address policy makers and industry power in order to facilitate genuine consumer agency. The aim of social marketing’s reforming critique is to leave a chastened marketing ‘controlled properly’ rather than question it intrinsically as a tool in the first place. Other critical marketing 37

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scholars shine a bleaker light on marketing as an institution beyond redemption – framing it within perspectives such as Feminism, Environmentalism, or most influentially Critical Theory from the Frankfurt tradition, all of which question commonly accepted phenomena as expressions of power, patriarchy and vested interests in society (Bradshaw and Fuat Firat 2007). Critical Theory offers what can seem to be an impossibly idealistic alternative to the accepted realities of commercial and political life. It proceeds ‘from an assumption of the possibilities of a more autonomous individual, who, in the tradition of Enlightenment, in principle can master his or her destiny in joint operation with peers’ (original italics) (Alvesson and Willmott 1992: 9). Rather than reforming marketing into something better regulated but still recognizably itself, Critical Theory-informed critical marketing suggests that there might be an alternative way of providing for whatever it is that marketing does – more cooperatively, more collectively, more humanely and with less damage to the environment (cf. Alvesson and Willmott 2012: 28). How this might work in practice is difficult to imagine in a globalizing, marketizing world, but it remains a tantalizing prospect, particularly for nonprofit and arts organizations. It suggests that, in order to be authentically supportive of the creation of autonomous customers, arts marketing needs to rethink what marketing actually means in practice. Tadajewski (2010) provides a useful historical review of critical marketing studies, tracing the first use of the term to the beginning of the 1980s (Hansen 1981). Hansen and subsequent scholars argue that marketing perpetuates distributive injustice (for example by concentrating on attractive groups of customers and ignoring others), and betrays the real interests of consumers (for example by attending to their stimulated wants rather than their genuine needs, and by encouraging dependency). Far from stimulating the kind of creativity and independent mindedness we might associate with the arts, marketing here stands accused of engendering docile subjects, locked into unquestioned patterns of consumption and passivity. It could well be objected that such a view of marketing is unrealistic and that consumers are notoriously unpredictable and difficult to manage. But in many of the developed world’s typically low-growth economies, marketing’s primary function is to defend the status quo against competition rather than to break new ground. Even on this mildly critical account of marketing as a reactionary force, its adoption in essentially innovative fields such as the arts (or in support of any kind of emancipatory social programme) seems problematic. In a case analogous to the ethics of marketing the arts, Gibbs and Murphy (2009) question the ethics of marketing higher education. They cite Lippke (1989: 38) on education as a form of resistance to consumer culture, fostering the ‘kind of skills needed for autonomy and the motivation to employ them’. As we have argued, the arts can be seen as a cognate resource for the skills and motivation necessary for autonomy. If marketing is really just about business as usual, its use to promote the arts or education seems disingenuous. The very use of marketing techniques like segmentation and advertising helps, however marginally, to legitimize such approaches as normal, common-sense activities rather than something that can be questioned on ideological grounds. At the very least (and pretty mildly given the budgets at their disposal), by purchasing marketing services such as advertising and research, arts marketers are contributing economically, as well as intellectually, to the maintenance of a system whose wider effects they must therefore acknowledge some responsibility for. How convincing you find Critical Theory-inspired objections to marketing in the arts or elsewhere depends to some extent on your own world view. Having given way to more active conceptions of consumers and citizens in the later part of the twentieth century, Critical Theory is now enjoying a revival in the wake of renewed concern about balancing democratic and corporate interests in an uncertain world (Bragg 2010). Given the popular distrust of big business which has provided a ready audience for recent books and films sceptical about marketing, it 38

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could be argued that, at the very least, Critical Theory-inspired critical marketing is of relevance to arts marketers in that it colours the social and cultural environment in which arts marketing takes place – particularly in the demographic where arts attendance is at its highest: ‘the broadsheet reading, farmers’ market shopping, free range chicken, organic vegetable box scheme and fair trade buying middle classes’ (Shankar 2009: 689). Caricatured as this depiction might be, it nevertheless behoves arts marketers to be aware of, and reflect on, the implications of aligning themselves with a body of practice that carries such potentially negative connotations with their customers.

Marketing at a local level So far in the discussion we have referred to ‘marketing’ as if it were a unitary concept. This is excusable at the institutional level at which critical marketing pitches its analysis, but unsatisfactory at the local level where marketing involves actual customers and suppliers in a variety of configurations. We have also suggested that arts marketing may have to find a new way of understanding what marketing means in order to be ethically consistent with its own aims. In practice, at the local level, marketing is already anything but homogenous. Since 1960 there have been enough academically sanctioned definitions of marketing for Gamble et al. (2011) to discern ten distinct varieties. Lee (2005) points out that arts marketers have already reduced the dissonance between the customer orientation essential to marketing and the product orientation essential to artistic integrity through flexing their conceptions of marketing, particularly towards relationship marketing as an appropriate paradigm (cf. Conway and Whitelock 2007; Rentschler et al. 2002). Relationship marketing emphasizes the value of a continuous customer relationship as a framework for exchanges (Grönroos 1994). As regards the argument in support of developing customer autonomy, relationship marketing looks like a promising framework in which to bring audiences through cumulative experiences towards the artistic vision of the producer. Yet even within relationship marketing in general, or the broad definition of arts marketing we are using (Hill et al. 2003: 1) which is consistent with it, there will be different ways of managing exchanges and integrating management processes. Each may have its own moral implications. For example, exchanges can be more or less overt, from a rational bargain between wellinformed equals to an almost involuntary response by a customer in thrall to a supplier made powerful by informational or distributional advantage. In our earlier discussion of potential ethical outcomes from arts marketing, a number of themes (fairness, honesty and pricing for example) involved issues arising from asymmetry between buyer and seller. This poses one of the key ethical problems for arts marketing at a local level, not only for marketers in the fortunate position of having high demand for scarce tickets, but also for those tasked with finding audiences for what may be unfamiliar experiences. In the first case, the marketer has the power – even, as Duffett (2012) points out, power to tantalize through promoting performances as sold-out to ‘train’ the disappointed customer to buy more promptly next time. In the second case, the power appears to rest with the customer, but the marketer still holds the cards in terms of expert information and communicative strategy. Power imbalance is a recurring concern in critiques of marketing in general, from Packard’s (1957) exposé of depth psychology in the service of advertising onwards. Over half a century later, the idea of ‘subliminal’ marketing is still alive in the notion of ‘choice architecture’ (Thaler and Sunstein 2008), a technique which nudges consumers into apparently natural actions prompted by contexts that have been deliberately designed by marketers. Even where it promotes consumer welfare, choice architecture appears to bypass autonomy and freedom of choice. 39

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Popular with social marketers, choice architecture has considerable potential in arts marketing. For example box office systems that assume subscription renewal as the default for customers paying by direct debit (effectively a continuous membership scheme), rather than requiring them actively to renew each season, are likely to result in considerably fewer lapsed subscribers because of the natural tendency to inertia (an aspect of the ‘behavioural economics’ on which choice architecture is founded). Similarly, arts fundraisers could nudge patrons into reliably increasing regular donations by getting them to agree in advance to predetermined annual increases (Thaler and Sunstein 2008: 229) whose discontinuation would require donors to opt out consciously, or add ‘suggested donations’ to ticket booking systems which require active refusal by patrons. This kind of approach, once dubbed ‘inertia selling’, could be argued to be in the consumer’s interests through promoting a continuous and convenient relationship with the arts organization or art form, but there is a whiff of disingenuousness about it. Any exchange relationship can only hope to be mutual, and thus sustainable, if both parties are on a reasonably equal footing. Equality implies participation and dialogue rather than inertia or information asymmetry as a platform for marketing activity. One might object that the examples offered here are relatively trivial in terms of potential harm, and that customers can be relied upon to pursue their own interests, but the general principle holds that manipulation is antithetical to the kind of relationship that arts organizations might be expected to seek with their customers in pursuit of their artistic objectives. Paradoxically, perhaps, overly artful marketing is not in tune with the arts. In summary thus far, we can question marketing’s amoral nature on a macro scale, taking exception to its ideological role as contrary to the real interests of consumers (including their openness to and capacity for artistic experience as autonomous individuals). We can also express reservations about how marketing techniques may work on a local level to position the customer as an unequal partner in managed exchanges. Again, this seems contrary to the kind of autonomy that the arts, like education, ought to be promoting. Such concerns about marketing (insofar as we can generalize about it) problematize its use in the arts from an ethical point of view. They do not necessarily proscribe it, but they do suggest that arts marketing needs to find a reliable ethical framework through which to negotiate its way to a generative and morally consistent relationship with customers.

Judging by consequences A potential route to resolving this dilemma might be to say that rather than generalizing about the ethical nature of arts marketing as philosophy or technique, we should consider the results of its application in particular contexts to determine its ethical value. There is an intuitive appeal in the argument that marketing sugary breakfast cereal to children is bad, but marketing mosquito nets to people at risk of malaria is good, even though both involve marketing. It could be argued, in each case, that the marketing activity involved might be more or less morally worthy, but that its outcome would determine our final moral evaluation of what had taken place. What, for example, if you could get more mosquito nets into circulation (and thus prevent more malaria) by manipulative tactics than by more respectful marketing? While regrettable, the manipulative tactics would arguably be redeemed by their results. The one exception to this would be a case where such tactics contradicted the overall objective of the marketing activity. So, for the sake of argument, if a marketing campaign for mosquito nets were to emphasize their efficacy to the point where record numbers were adopted, but was so reassuring in its approach that users became complacent about the dangers of contracting malaria, the increased number of nets in circulation might not reduce the incidence of the disease because users might take fewer precautions overall. This effect has been observed in other social marketing contexts and is 40

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known as risk homeostasis (Wilde 1998) – in other words, people’s perception of risk adjusts in accordance with how safe they feel. The mosquito nets example, while apparently remote from arts marketing, is relevant to the argument we are mounting against judging marketing activity on its immediate consequences alone. If we were to justify arts marketing on its visible results we might (in an extreme situation) point to packed concert halls or theatres as evidence of success, with little sense of whether or not the organization’s artistic objectives were being achieved because it would be impossible to gauge the quality of the experience being enjoyed. It might be the last performance any of the capacity audience ever attend because of the ennui generated by programming that once seemed attractively familiar and comforting, but now seems hackneyed and unexciting, like the marketing that led to it. Evaluating the ethics of arts marketing depends on taking account of both the process involved and the purpose it serves (the how and the why, respectively) because of the need to support the creation of autonomous customers. While we can consider process and purpose separately, they both contribute to its moral import. As may be obvious by now, the ‘how’ aspect of the marketing process aligns to what we might call rule-based ethics inspired by Kant; the ‘why’ aspect, to which we now turn, aligns to the ends-based ethics reflected in Utilitarianism. It is to the latter that we now turn. Utilitarianism has had a bad press historically in terms of how it accounts for the experience of art or any other non-economic benefit such as well-being and personal development. From Cardinal Newman’s tirade against ‘useful’ as opposed to ‘liberal’ education in The Idea of a University (2001 [1852]) to Dickens’s scathing portrait of the philistine Thomas Gradgrind in Hard Times (1854), Utilitarian thinking has been pilloried as insensitive to beauty, feeling or culture. While this caricature might have had some justification with reference to early Utilitarianism, it underestimates the subtleties of its later development. In particular, it is wide of the mark when it comes to John Stuart Mill. A generation after Jeremy Bentham attempted to create a universal moral yardstick from the common denominator of generic pleasure minus pain, Mill’s work took account not only of the quantity of pleasure (or welfare) when weighing consequences, but also of its qualitative aspects (Mill 1998 [1861]). He assigned greater value to intellectual and aesthetic pleasures than to physical or less demanding ones. This marks a significant revision of Jeremy Bentham’s earlier equation of the popular parlour game ‘push-pin’ with poetry and music as legitimate sources of pleasure (Bentham 1825: 206). For Bentham, as a radical egalitarian, all pleasures are equally valuable, and, as he wryly observes, ‘[i]f poetry and music deserve to be preferred before a game of push-pin, it must be because they are calculated to gratify those individuals who are most difficult to be pleased’ (ibid.: 207). One is reminded here of the social divisions that sour the idea of high and low culture for Carey (2005). Mill’s promotion of the higher pleasures depends on a frankly elitist appeal to precisely those difficult-to-please individuals Bentham has in mind – the ‘competent judges’, in Mill’s phrase, whose experience of a range of pleasures commits them to prefer the higher, more intellectual and aesthetic kinds. In the arts, consequences such as widening participation and recruiting new audiences are particularly valued, in part because they represent the spread of higher pleasures to those yet uninitiated (as we have seen, ‘Great art for everyone’ is currently the mission statement of Arts Council England (ACE 2011)). Utilitarianism would applaud this increase of access to potential well-being, so long as it meant an increase in well-being overall – and it has a strong appeal to one’s sense of what arts marketing should be achieving from the point of view of social justice. But Mill’s defence of the higher pleasures also includes an acknowledgement that different individuals vary in their capacity to experience them (Mill 1998 [1861]: 514). Were the calculation possible, this would mean that the pleasure enjoyed by 50 dedicated and knowledgeable 41

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connoisseurs might outweigh that enjoyed by 200 first-time visitors at the same exhibition. Consistent with its egalitarian principles, Utilitarianism takes into account the total amount of well-being generated, rather than its distribution across a population, in judging two competing courses of action. Therefore, as in this case, narrowing audiences might appear to be preferable to widening them – a counter-intuitive conclusion ethically speaking. While it might be possible to object to the detail of this example, it nevertheless adds weight to the argument that there are significant problems with trying to judge the ethics of arts marketing by outcomes alone, in spite of its apparent simplicity as a principle. This is not to deny its usefulness up to a point. After all, the calculation of cost versus benefit has a common-sense appeal and corresponds to how we take decisions in most areas of life. It is intelligible to others as a form of justification (and therefore useful as a way of accounting for controversial action). It is also capable of being negotiated collectively to improve the measurable outcomes from a plan of action. However because of its prioritization of results over how those results are achieved or distributed, it fails to comprehend the essentially qualitative aspects of arts marketing’s concern for the individual customer’s capacity to respond to artistic experience.

A Kantian framework For an ethical framework adequate to this concern we need to adapt ideas from Kant. In the Groundwork of the Metaphysic of Morals (1785) he denies what was to become the central plank of Utilitarianism, that we should judge things by their effects. Instead, morally upright intentions are what matters, whatever the outcome: ‘A good will is not good because of what it effects or accomplishes – because of its fitness for attaining some proposed end: it is good through its willing alone – that is, good in itself’ (Kant 2008 [1785]: 507). Like much Kant at first sight, there is an offputtingly abstract quality about this formulation, but it is essentially the corollary to his point cited earlier (in our discussion of Carey’s (2005) challenge to the ‘goodness’ of art) that it is impossible to think of anything as good or bad without understanding the circumstances that have brought it into being. Thus while a full theatre is generally taken to be a good thing, the quality of what is on stage or the level of engagement of the audience is what gives it value. What makes the achievement good or bad is the motive, or will, behind it. In a literally lapidary phrase Kant maintains that even frustrated by circumstances beyond its control from carrying out its intentions, the good will ‘would still shine like a jewel for its own sake as something which has its full value in itself’ (Kant 2008 [1785]: 507), likening its potential usefulness to a jewel’s setting which allows us better to handle it but does not impinge on its essential value. In other words, even if an arts marketing campaign (or any other course of action with ethical potential) was an abject failure, its instigators’ good intentions in launching and pursuing it would still be just as morally valuable as if it had been a triumph. This seems rather an extreme and unrealistic evaluative position, but it reveals the importance of the idea of the good will as the basis for Kant’s moral framework. As Sandel (2010) points out, Kant rests his entire system of moral rights and duties ‘on the idea that we are rational beings, worthy of dignity and respect’ (p. 104). Our capacity to exercise a good will, and thus claim to be moral at all, stands or falls with our ability to reason freely. In order to exercise rationality in a completely responsible way we need to be autonomous agents, free from external influences. But Kant acknowledges that we are not completely rational beings – we have senses and emotions which can complement or conflict with our rational natures. In a radically severe, but completely consistent, way, he sees the non-rational aspects of our nature as a potential constraint on our freedom to exercise our wills with the complete autonomy

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necessary to claim moral responsibility. This antipathy to the senses and emotions explains why Kantian approaches to ethics have tended to be less popular than Utilitarianism with marketing writers (Nantel and Weeks 1996) given marketing’s address to needs and wants in consumers. Bentham based his moral system on what he saw as a realistic surrender to drives, maintaining that ‘Nature has placed mankind under the governance of two sovereign masters, pain and pleasure’ (cited in Barber 2011: 183). Kant’s commitment to rationality as the basis for moral choice as an expression of human freedom resists this sovereignty. According to him our freedom depends on our willingness to step back from our sensual and emotional drives in order to consider (and decide ourselves) where our duty lies. While it makes heroic demands of human beings, the compelling thing about Kant’s moral vision is its consistency. Each component – reason, freedom, will – is required, and thus reinforced, by the others. But all contribute to an affirmation of the essential importance of autonomous action by rational beings as the basis of morality. A good example is the notorious distinction Kant makes between acting ‘in accordance with’ duty and acting ‘from’ duty. One might be hard-pressed to recognize a hard and fast lexical difference between the two phrases in ordinary usage, but in Kant’s vocabulary they represent a crucial distinction. Acting in accordance with duty is to act from mixed motives. While understandable, this can leave an agent vulnerable to influences which interfere with his or her autonomy. By contrast, a completely autonomous agent would act from duty – in other words as a result of a decision, potentially an unpalatable one, about what is morally required in a particular situation. For example, you may believe that you should offer discounted admission to people on low incomes for various reasons, one being that it makes you feel good to be part of a socially inclusive organization. Kant would see this reason as potentially diluting the moral worth of your position compared with a situation where you were, possibly reluctantly, offering discounts to people merely because you accepted it was the right thing to do to promote inclusivity. Emotions can hamper our freedom because our actions are affected by them in ways that we cannot easily control. Only by acting from duty, in other words as a result of a rational decision, are we expressing our autonomous freedom to act in a way that carries full moral status – using our ‘good will’ as Kant would say. Furthermore, the internally consistent exercise of the good will (i.e. the only way it can be said to be properly free or good) is for it to support my overall intentions for good (and, indeed, the good intentions of others). That might sound tautological, but it means that as someone involved in marketing the arts as a form of emancipation, I cannot will a process for my customers that is at odds with emancipatory artistic intentions – to reiterate a recurrent argument in this chapter. Kant’s moral framework for understanding human freedom as rational choice commits us to supporting and facilitating the autonomous choices of other rational beings as a way of respecting their, and our, dignity. Inspiring as this is as an emancipatory framework for action, we need to see it as an ideal to work towards. In practical terms one could hardly expect to banish all sense of emotional or sensual satisfaction from moral choices, or in thinking about customers. That would be as inhumane as it would be unrealistic. Instead, arts marketers need to be as conscious as possible of the reasons for policy and action, and aware of motivations that may contradict or interfere with furthering artistic objectives. To what extent are marketing activities gratifying our own sense of worth or convenience (personal or organizational) as opposed to genuinely promoting active audience experience and empowerment? To what extent might our marketing tactics or technology hamper rather than promote the good intentions of others? Is there any sense in which we might be guilty of treating others as means to an end, rather than as ends in themselves, as rational beings with the capacity for freedom? Reflection such as this, high-minded as it might

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sound at first, is in fact a very practical way of developing and protecting our own freedom and that of our customers in a way that supports artistic mission. Implementing Kantian principles into arts marketing practice means building time for reflection into routines. Fischer (2007) suggests how this can be done in the context of the related area of fundraising – offering a structure for interrogating possible courses of action in terms of how they might further (or not) organizational mission, relationships with others (including customers and wider stakeholders) and one’s own personal integrity. The precise questions, their number and focus, will vary from context to context, but the overall purpose is to bring as many influences as possible on the decision into the open in order to maximize the freedom with which it can be made and guarantee, as far as possible, its consistency with the ‘good will’ expressed in the direction of the organization itself. This may be difficult to reconcile with accepted ways of working in many arts organizations, where time is at a premium. But, as Fischer observes, ‘One rarely hears inefficiency praised as a virtue, but in thinking through ethically troubling situations thinking slowly has its advantages’ (2007: 182). This process of scrutiny and reflection has the potential to include not only members internal to the organization, but a wider range of stakeholders including customers themselves to foster even more participation in organizational mission and a greater sense of mutual respect in line with Kant’s ideal.

Conclusion To return to the analogy with social marketing, Hastings (2007: 210) argues that ‘the most fundamental reason that social marketers should be concerned with ethics is because ultimately their business is “messing with people’s lives”.’ Here Hastings is referring to the sometimes challenging changes in behaviour (such as smoking cessation) that social marketers target in their customers. Arts marketing may not be as intrusive or demanding on customers as social marketing (at least most of the time) but making an important difference to (or ‘messing with’) people’s lives is still its central aim. Audience development, for example, is not just about growing numbers of gallery visitors or concertgoers at a particular venue or for a certain art form. It is also, as we have argued previously, about developing members of audiences themselves, taking them on a journey which will widen and/or deepen their repertoire, expand their sensibilities, and change their expectations – even their world view. Defamiliarization, the theory of literature developed by the Russian Formalists in the early part of the twentieth century, can extend to the reframing potential of the arts more generally for audience members. We see and hear things as if for the first time. We see through the eyes, as Blake put it, instead of with them. In other words, the conventionality of our perceptions is put into question. We see the world afresh. (Wall 2009: 20) Seeing the world afresh is liberating, but at the same time unsettling and disruptive, as will be familiar to anyone involved in education (to return to another analogy we have made with arts marketing in this chapter). Influential taxonomies of learning cover not only stages of changing what one knows, but also changing one’s self and one’s feelings in what can be uncomfortable ways (Fink 2003). Learners often experience emotional turbulence when new knowledge forces them to abandon familiar ways of understanding the world (Savin-Baden 2000). Artistic experience offers a more visceral, sensory kind of learning than does education (cf. the ‘impact’ and ‘emotion’ reported by Walmsley (2011)

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as primary motivators of theatre attendance). And, of course, not every experience in the auditorium or gallery is capable of (or aimed at) transforming the outlook of the arts customer in this way. But even what we might call light entertainment has its place on a continuum at one end of which lies serious engagement with the spectator or listener as an autonomous individual. As we have seen, arts marketing has an ethical dimension by virtue of its context (underlining accountability for the use of scarce resources, often with a public aspect) and, more importantly, its purpose of audience development in the fullest sense, which includes a potentially intrusive intention to change perceptions consistent with the emancipatory nature of arts experience. Just as in marketing more generally, arts marketers face challenges in areas such as governance, fairness and transparency, particularly in matters of pricing, product and relationships. This is by no means an exhaustive list, but the theme of a respectful concern for developing customers, rather than treating them as a means to an end, runs through it, suggesting this as a particular ethical focus for arts marketers inseparable from their espoused mission. Bearing this in mind we have questioned the appropriateness of marketing, at least as currently understood, as a philosophy and a set of techniques for promoting arts experience fully. In spite of its natural affinity with marketing (from a shared emphasis on benefits), Utilitarianism is of limited help in negotiating the ethical dilemmas arts marketers face. Kant’s ethical prescriptions are more complex and less immediately intuitive than Utilitarianism, but we have attempted to explain and justify their relevance to arts marketing on the grounds of their unifying respect for the individual’s right to flourish in ways that support and complement the development of others. As a system they offer the potential for incorporation into planning and evaluating marketing activity which supports artistic aims more surely than the unreflective adaptation of marketing techniques from other contexts. Labelling marketing, in the arts or elsewhere, as problematical does not condemn it as evil or inappropriate – it underlines, rather, that it can be done better or worse, even when supporting what appear to be laudable aims. The contribution of a Kantian approach is to help arts marketers reflect on how what they are doing can contribute to the artistic mission of their organizations in a way that is sustainable, coherent and ethically positive. It opens the prospect of a marketing practice that supports respect, partnership, and inclusivity, pointing the way to new understandings of marketing in the arts and elsewhere.

References ACE (2011) ‘Arts Council England our mission’ [online], available at: http://www.artscouncil.org.uk/ what-we-do/our-mission/ (Accessed 10 January 2013). Alvesson, M. and Willmott, H. (eds) (1992) Critical Management Studies, London: Sage. Alvesson, M. and Willmott, H. (2012) Making Sense of Management: A Critical Introduction, 2nd edn, London: Sage. AMA (2007) ‘About us, definition of marketing’, American Marketing Association [online], available at: http://www.marketingpower.com/aboutama/pages/definitionofmarketing.aspx (Accessed 10 September 2012). Arthurs, Andy and Radbourne, Jennifer J. (2007) ‘The orchestra re-imagined’, in Grant, Catherine (ed.) National Council for Tertiary Music Schools (NACTMUS) National Conference 2007, Music in Australian Tertiary Institutions, Issues for the 21st Century, 9 June–1 July, Queensland Conservatorium Griffith University, Brisbane, Australia. Barber, A. (2011) Ethics, Book 3 of A222 Exploring Philosophy, Milton Keynes: Open University. Bentham, J. (1789) An Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation, in Bentham, J. (1967) A Fragment on Government and An Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation (ed. Wilfrid Harrison), Oxford: Basil Blackwell, pp. 125–8, 151–3, 155–6, included in Barber (2011), pp. 183–186.

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Bentham, J. (1825) The Rationality of Reward, London: John and H.L. Hunt. Bouissac, P. (1987) ‘The marketing of performance’, in Umiker-Sebeok, Jean Marketing and Semiotics: New Directions in the Study of Signs for Sale, Berlin: Mouton de Grutyer, pp. 391–406. Bradshaw, A. (2010) ‘Before method: axiomatic review of arts marketing’, International Journal of Culture, Tourism and Hospitality Research 4(1): 8–19. Bradshaw, A. and Fuat Firat, A. (2007) ‘Rethinking critical marketing’, in Saren, M., Maclaran, P., Elliott, R., Shankar, A. and Catterall, M. (eds) Critical Marketing: Defining the Field, Oxford: Elsevier. Bragg, M. (2010) ‘In our time: the Frankfurt school’, BBC Radio 4 [Podcast], 14 January, available at: http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00pr54s (Accessed 10 September 2012). Brennan, Linda and Savage, Theresa (2012) ‘Cultural consumption and souvenirs: an ethical framework’, Arts Marketing; An International Journal 2(2): 144–160. Butler, Patrick (2000) ‘By popular demand: marketing the arts’, Journal of Marketing Management 16(4): 343–364. Carey, John (2005) What Good are the Arts?, London: Faber. Chonko, Lawrence B. and Hunt, Shelby D. (1985) ‘Ethics and marketing management: an empirical examination’, Journal of Business Research 13: 339–359. Conway, Tony and Whitelock, Jeryl (2007) ‘Relationship marketing in the subsidised arts: the key to a strategic marketing focus?’, European Journal of Marketing 41(1/2): 199–222. Crain, W.M. and Tollison, R.D. (2002) ‘Consumer choice and the popular music industry: a test of the superstar theory’, Empirica 29: 1–9. Drucker, Peter (1954) The Practice of Management, New York: Harper. Duffett, Matt (2012) ‘Why promote sold-out concerts? A Durkheimian analysis’, Arts Marketing An International Journal 2(2): 21–34. Fink, L.D. (2003) Creating Significant Learning Experiences: An Integrated Approach to Designing College Courses, San Francisco, CA: Jossey Bass. Fischer, M. (2007) ‘The color of ethics’, in Mordaunt, J. and Paton, R. (eds) Thoughtful Fundraising, London: Open University with Routledge and the Institute of Fundraising, pp. 173–183. Folger, R. and Cropanzano, R. (1998) Organisational Justice and Human Resource Management, Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Fox, J. (2002) Eyes on Stalks, with an introduction by Adrian Mitchell, London: Methuen Drama. Gamble, J., Gilmore, A., McCartan-Quinn, D. and Durkan, P. (2011) ‘The marketing concept in the 21st century: a review of how marketing has been defined since the 1960s’, Marketing Review 11(3): 227–248. Gibbs, P. and Murphy, P. (2009) ‘Ethical marketing of higher education: what might be done to encourage its adoption?’, Higher Education Management and Policy 21(3): 75–90. Gill, Rosalind and Pratt, Andy (2008) ‘In the social factory? Immaterial labour, precariousness and cultural work’, Theory, Culture & Society 25(7–8): 1–30. Grönroos, Christian (1994) ‘From marketing mix to relationship marketing: towards a paradigm shift in marketing’, Management Decision 32(2): 4–20. Hackley, Chris (2003) “‘We are all customers now …”: Rhetorical strategy and ideological control in marketing management texts’, Journal of Management Studies 40(5): 1325–1353. Hansen, F. (1981) ‘Contemporary research in marketing in Denmark’, Journal of Marketing 45(3): 214–218. Hastings, G. (2007) Social Marketing: Why Should the Devil Have All the Best Tunes?, Oxford: ButterworthHeinemann. Hill, E., O’Sullivan, C. and O’Sullivan, T. (2003) Creative Arts Marketing, 2nd edn, Oxford: ButterworthHeinemann. Hills, Matt (2002) Fan Cultures, London: Routledge. Hirschman, E.C. (1983) ‘Aesthetics, ideologies and the limits of the marketing concept’, Journal of Marketing 47: 45–55. Kant, I. (2008 [1785]) ‘Duty and reason as the ultimate principle: Immanuel Kant, Groundwork of the Metaphysic of Morals’, in Cottingham, J. (ed.) Western Philosophy: An Anthology, 2nd edn, Oxford: Blackwell, pp. 506–512. Kerrigan, F. and Özbilgin, M.F. (2002) ‘Art for the masses or art for the few? Ethical issues in film marketing in the UK’, International Journal of Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Marketing 7(3): 195–207. Kerrigan, F. and Özbilgin, M.F. (2004) ‘Film marketing in Europe: bridging the gap between policy and practice’, International Journal of Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Marketing 19(3): 229–237. Krueger, A.B. (2005) ‘The economics of real superstars: the market for rock concerts in the material world’, Journal of Labor Economics 23(1): 1–30.

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Kubacki, K. and Croft, R. (2004) ‘Mass marketing, music and morality’, Journal of Marketing Management 20(5/6): 577–590. Larsen, G. and Lawson, R. (2012) ‘Consumer rights: an assessment of justice’, Journal of Business Ethics 15(1): 53–63. Lazar, William and Kelley, Eugene J. (1973) Social Marketing: Perspectives and Viewpoints, Homewood, IL: Richard D. Irwin. Lee, H.-K. (2005) ‘When arts met marketing: arts marketing theory embedded in Romanticism’, International Journal of Cultural Policy 11(3): 289–305. Lippke, R.L. (1989) ‘Advertising and the social conditions of autonomy’, Business and Professional Ethics Journal 8: 35–58. Mill, J.S. (1998 [1861]) Utilitarianism (ed. R. Crisp), Oxford: Oxford University Press, chapter 2, abridged in Cottingham, J. (ed.) (2008) Western Philosophy: An Anthology, 2nd edn, Oxford: Blackwell. MLA (2008) ‘Generic learning outcomes, inspiring learning, an improvement framework for museums, libraries and archives’ [online], available at: http://www.inspiringlearningforall.gov.uk/toolstemplates/ genericlearning/ (Accessed 20 September 2012). Nantel, Jaques and Weeks, William A. (1996) ‘Marketing ethics: is there more to it than the Utilitarian approach?’, European Journal of Marketing 30(6): 9–19. NEA (2012) ‘How art works: the National Endowment for the Arts’ five-year research agenda, with a system map and measurement model’ [online], available at: http://www.nea.gov/research/How-ArtWorks/How-Art-Works.pdf (Accessed 10 January 2013). O’Reilly, D. (2005) ‘Cultural brands/branding cultures’, Journal of Marketing Management 21(5): 573–588. O’Reilly, D. (2006) ‘Commentary: branding ideology’, Marketing Theory 6(2): 263–271. Packard, V. (1957) The Hidden Persuaders, New York: D. McKay. Prahalad, C.K. and Ramaswamy, V. (2004) ‘Co-creation experiences: the next practice in value creation’, Journal of Interactive Marketing 18(3): 5–14. Quigg, Anne-Marie (2011) Bullying in the Arts: Vocation, Exploitation and Abuse of Power, London: Gower. Rentschler, R., Radbourne, Jennifer, Carr, Rodney and Rickard, John (2002) ‘Relationship marketing, audience retention and performing arts organisation viability’, International Journal of Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Marketing 7(2): 118–130. RSC (2012) ‘Royal Shakespeare Company, ticket sales: terms and conditions’ [online], available at: http:// www.rsc.org.uk/buy-tickets/stratford-terms.aspx (Accessed 18 October 2013). Sandel, M.J. (2010) Justice: What’s the Right Thing to Do?, London: Penguin. Savin-Baden, M. (2000) Problem-based Learning in Higher Education: Untold Stories, Buckingham: Society for Research into Higher Education and Open University Press. Schlegelmilch, B. and Oberseder, M. (2010) ‘Half a century of marketing ethics: shifting perspectives and emerging trends’, Journal of Business Ethics 93: 1–19. Shankar, A. (2009) ‘Reframing critical marketing’, Journal of Marketing Management 5(7–8): 681–696. Standing, G. (2011) The Precariat: The New Dangerous Class, London: Bloomsbury Academic. Tadajewski, Mark (2010) ‘Towards a history of critical marketing studies’, Journal of Marketing Management 26(9–10): 773–824. Thaler, R.H. and Sunstein, C.R. (2008) Nudge: Improving Decisions about Health, Wealth and Happiness, New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Tusa, John (2005) ‘Do the arts matter?’, Observer 8 May [online], available at: http://www.guardian.co.uk/ books/2005/may/08/art.oxforduniversity?INTCMP=ILCNETTXT3487 (Accessed 20 September 2012). Wall, A. (2009) ‘A note on defamiliarisation’ [online], London: Royal Literary Fund, available at: http:// www.rlf.org.uk/fellowshipscheme/writing/documents/Defamiliarization.pdf (Accessed 3 September 2012). Walmsley, B. (2011) ‘Why people go to the theatre: a qualitative study of audience motivation’, Journal of Customer Behaviour 10(4): 335–351. Wilde, G.J.S. (1998) ‘Risk homeostasis theory: an overview’, Injury Prevention 4(2): 89–91.

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PART II

Artists and their managers

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5 THE ARTIST AS MARKETER AND ENTREPRENEUR Ian Fillis

Introduction The earliest biographies on artists in ancient Greece referred to them as gods or mythical characters. They saw art as divinely influenced, with artists viewing their gods as the main source of inspiration so that they could pursue their creativity. The Roman poet Ovid and the author, naturalist and philosopher Pliny the Elder gave early accounts of the relationship between artists and their patrons. However, it was not until Giorgio Vasari’s Lives of the Artists in 1550 that a clearer picture emerged of how artists operated in the marketplace. Since then there has been a proliferation of data on artists’ lives, although very little has been considered from marketing and entrepreneurship perspectives. This chapter develops a contemporary understanding of the artist as a creator of innovative work through actions as a marketer and entrepreneur. Today’s successful visual artist requires not only a set of artistic competencies but also skills in marketing and entrepreneurship in order to deal with the sometimes chaotic nature of the external environment where instability and ambiguity impact on everyday practice. The form marketing takes is often different to that found in large organizations. The artist can be visualized as an owner/manager of his or her own enterprise who constructs a form of marketing fit for his or her purposes. In other words, a contextspecific form of marketing is practised, informed by networking, word-of-mouth communication, self-branding, reputation, creativity and entrepreneurial competencies (Sheth and Sisodia 1999).

The relationship between marketing and entrepreneurship and the link with art Marketing and entrepreneurship share a number of common attributes and can be viewed as a set of desirable competencies. Shared creative competencies, for example, include self-belief, innovative thinking, imagination, vision, strategic awareness, transmutation or transference of ideas from one domain to another, ambition, intuition, flexibility and nonstandard solution finding. Conventional notions of marketing have their limitations when thinking about how the artist might make use of its elements; for example, with respect to customer orientation (Sheth et al. 2000). The marketing discipline has expanded far beyond its initial boundaries, and yet we still adhere to models of marketing that do not fit within today’s knowledge-based global economy. Although there is some history of the interrogation of relationship between marketing and art, there is still much more to be achieved beyond application of the traditional marketing concept to art (Chong 2002) and the utilization of art within consumption studies (Schroeder 2001).

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The creativity, intuition and analogy found in art have also been used to create more appropriate forms of knowledge in smaller firm marketing (Carson and Coviello 1996; Fillis and Rentschler 2006). Art can lead to new ways of perceiving the environment and an ability to change the way we think about organizations and individuals. It may even be possible to consider the application of art within marketing as part of a potential paradigm shift (Bohm 1998). Entrepreneurship is concerned with dealing with ambiguity, discontinuity, non-linearity and the situation specific (Bennett 2006). Here acknowledgement must be made of the impact of the personality and motivation of the artist as owner/manager in the construction of a personalized management style (Pech and Cameron 2006). Marketing and entrepreneurial orientation both have links with innovation (Hills and LaForge 1992). Creativity is concerned with the development of new ideas and innovation is the implementation of these ideas in practice. A number of disciplines from within and outside the social sciences have informed both entrepreneurship and marketing theory, including strategy, sociology, economics, anthropology and history. Investigation of the visual artist uncovers additional insight which would otherwise remain hidden. This cross-disciplinary perspective has the potential to raise the level of understanding through cross-fertilization of ideas, intellectual bridging and transfer (Pettigrew et al. 2002). Visualizing the artist as a marketer and entrepreneur is an example of critical thinking where drawing on disciplines outside the traditional domain of enquiry can add to understanding (Benghozi 1987). If we view the artist as a small business owner/manager (Fillis 2002, 2004), we can consider how traditional marketing theories are not applicable due to the unique characteristics of small businesses. Instead, advice and knowledge emerge regarding potential entrepreneurial marketing strategies and best practice stemming from opportunity recognition and creative use of limited resources. The converse viewpoint can also be taken when we consider the notion of the entrepreneurial marketer as an artist and the subsequent interrogation of the art world for insight into entrepreneurial marketing practice. Useful methods in reaching this alternative understanding include the use of biography and its subsequent triangulation with more conventional survey techniques and face-to-face interviews in identifying relevant behaviour and analogy (Fillis and Herman 2005). Marketing and entrepreneurship have a number of shared attributes which has resulted in an entrepreneurial form of marketing being recognized. Carson et al. (1995) evaluate entrepreneurial marketing in terms of owner/manager experience, knowledge, communication strengths and judgement abilities as part of a competency spectrum. Entrepreneurial marketing has evolved as a response to contemporary market conditions where creative, nonstandard solutions are now required in order to address the chaotic, fragmented nature of the environment.

The artist and the art world Art contains rich and complex direct and symbolic meanings. There is no single agreed definition due to the subjective evaluations made by artists, critics, audiences and others (Penrose 1990). It can imply a particular form of creative production involving aesthetic value resulting from a particular skill and use of imagination. It can be viewed as an open concept and as an empirically based entity (Berleant 1964). Art concerns the stimulation of the human senses, mind and spirit. Thinking in an art-based way enables understanding of human activity and philosophy by visualizing the relationship between the self and society on multiple levels, from informal personalized interactions to formalized relationships between individuals and institutions (Levinson 1979). An institutional interpretation of the art world can be viewed as a social–economic network involving 52

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artistic and business-based activities, organizations and individuals. Art and the art market can be positioned within a wider network involving social actors engaged in competitive exchanges.

The art world as a data source for marketing and entrepreneurship The arts have long been viewed as appropriate ways of acquiring knowledge while art itself can suggest innovative hypotheses which would otherwise be unlikely to occur through scientific thinking alone. Art provides a more complete, multidimensional perspective, rather than focusing on scientific explanation (Belk 1986). Positioning art alongside marketing and entrepreneurship suggests the ability to draw on unusual combinations and juxtapositions. Despite the potential benefits of artistic thinking, the art world as a data source from marketing and entrepreneurship perspectives has only been used to a limited extent. The benefits align with Arndt (1985) who believes that, since a single way of understanding can only ever offer a partial, incomplete truth, a pluralistic approach is needed. Taking an artistic stance means that explanations can be unveiled which acknowledge the value of empirical generalizations but which also establish situation-specific constructions of the world which are grounded in individual values (Tarkovsky 1986). An artist may follow a specific school of thought but the art produced will be unique due to subjective interpretations made by artists, consumers, gallery owners and other interested parties. Artistic knowledge encourages us to reach alternative understandings of phenomena by exploring beyond the confines of conventional, rational thought. Art has the potential to provide novel perspectives on familiar phenomena and helps decision makers to utilize their perceptual competencies in addressing environmental complexity, ambiguity and uncertainty. Early evidence of visual art’s potential contribution to marketing was identified by Honig (1998), with sixteenth-century Antwerp seen as an important era in the development of the visual arts market. Understanding of the market mechanism is obtained by examining the Antwerp paintings of the period which included pictorial representations of products, consumers and producers. At that time, painting of the physical marketplace was common and so there is a rich visual source of data. Rather than continuing to produce art in conventional ways, Antwerp artists began to experiment with a variety of styles. The growth in artistic genres was partly in response to buyer demand. Fillis and Rentschler (2006) explored the visual arts for connections with marketing, entrepreneurship and creativity. The art world and the business environment can be visualized as a mutually beneficial permeable boundary where multidirectional connections can be made. Analysis of artistic philosophy and practice can contribute to the development of competitive advantage through the juxtapositioning of ideas across previously unrelated fields. It also promotes the incorporation of art-based practices to innovation, vision, leadership and motivation. Degot (1987) sees the manager as a creative artist who designs any actions taken while Brownlie (1998) believes that a manager is capable of evolving into a creative artist who can use judgement to create order out of disorder. Schroeder and Borgerson (2002) investigate the ability of art historical approaches to inform our knowledge about marketing and consumption processes by analysing the development of the art market and its artists, patrons and consumers during the Italian Renaissance of the fourteenth century.

Market versus artistic orientation Art history contains countless incidents of nonstandard solutions to problem solving which are more artistic than scientific. Many influential artists create demand rather than respond to it, a 53

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clear illustration of an entrepreneurial act. Examining the relationship between the artist, marketing and entrepreneurship offers an alternative perspective to market orientation. There is increasing tension between the belief that market orientation and customer focus can result in long-term profitable relationships and the position that innovative product-centred activity can deliver high quality, profitable outcomes (Berthon et al. 2004). While market orientation does have an impact on the success of some new products, innovation, competitive strength and environmental forces also have roles to play (Augusto and Coelho 2007). Assuming the position of the artist creates an appropriate environment where creativity can result in the necessary innovations that generate entirely new products, rather than extensions to existing ones.

Using artists’ lives to understand entrepreneurial marketing practice Analysis of artists’ lives can uncover useful entrepreneurial marketing data. Deconstructing the life and work of Pablo Picasso, for example, uncovers information concerning his role as an artist and entrepreneur. Visual art data and the artistic biography reveal parallels between marketing management and the theory and practice of art making (Fillis 2003). The utilization of biography enables the construction of detailed longitudinal insight into artistic, social, economic and marketing phenomena. Both Schroeder (1997) and Fillis (2000) analyse Andy Warhol in order to generate marketing insight. Through the identification of marketing practices in Warhol’s art making, Schroeder generates knowledge about consumption processes while Fillis develops an understanding of creative, entrepreneurial forms of art-based marketing. Schroeder (2006) analyses how Thomas Kinkade, one of the most successful and much debated of American artists, can be used to provide insight into the commodification of artistic values. Focusing on van Gogh’s unique qualities provides insight into the creative process. Van Gogh has been studied across a number of disciplines, including psychology, psychiatry, aesthetics, history and medicine. He now transcends advertising, branding and consumer culture through the reproduction of his images in products such as fashion accessories, posters, postcards and diaries. Bamossy (2005) provides insight into marketing activities by investigating him. Examination of his paintings, diaries and his life in general serve as forms of biographical data from which we can identify evidence of creative forms of marketing. Analysis of artists’ philosophies and practices reveals a range of entrepreneurial marketing competencies which are also located within contemporary small businesses practising entrepreneurial forms of marketing. These factors include creative ability, curiosity, judgement, originality, flexibility, self-belief and ambition. Collings (1999) assesses how artists such as Tracey Emin and Damien Hirst now embrace marketing practices once they have successfully created demand for their work. The edited collection of papers in Brown and Patterson (2000) consider the growing impact of art and aesthetics on marketing practice through analysis of the lives of Edouard Manet, Salvador Dalí and others. Here the future of marketing is re-imagined through the interrogation of art, aesthetics and the alternative, avant-garde element of society. Schroeder (2005) views artists as self-promoting brand managers within the cultural world. Although focusing on the relationship between branding and art, he also identifies wider implications for the marketing discipline. Schroeder and Salzer-Morling (2006) analyse the relationship between art, consumption, brand management, corporate branding, ethics and advertising. They argue that, in addition to consumers and managers controlling branding processes, cultural codes also contribute to how brands work in imparting meaning to the consumer. 54

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Conclusions and future directions This chapter has considered the relationship between the artist, marketing and entrepreneurship. It has evaluated what happens when creativity is embraced for its own sake rather than continually following customer and market orientation. The art world is full of examples of new schools of thought which were initially viewed as being on the periphery or the avant-garde but which became mainstream over time. The same philosophy can be applied to arts marketing and the role of new modes of marketing and entrepreneurship. The interface involving the artist, the art world, marketing and entrepreneurship reveals how competencies such as imagination, vision, ambition and intuition can result in innovative outcomes. Arts marketing practice is still heavily reliant on conventional marketing orientation but lessons can be learned from the artists and work exhibited and sold in museums and galleries. Analogy and metaphor can reveal alternative ways of understanding the relationships between the relevant parties concerned. There is value in moving away from making generalizations to exploring the worth of situation-specific understanding of innovative arts marketing practice. The personality of the artist as owner/manager helps in understanding the individual styles of managing in an arts organization. By being prepared to consider the dual role of the artist as an owner/manager and the owner/manager as an artist, this illustrates the strengths of a cross-disciplinary perspective in generating new insight. Uncovering longitudinal evidence of entrepreneurial marketing-based artistic practice from biographical and other perspectives also enables novel insight to be uncovered. This would remain hidden if there was only continued adherence to more usual largescale survey research or in-depth interviewing alone. The adoption of the artist as marketer and entrepreneur perspective is supported by both physical and symbolic evidence. This leads to innovative thinking about arts marketing in general where unusual associations and juxtapositions can result in creative sparks of imagination and heightened understanding. We give meaning to and interpret visual art in many ways. It is also possible to confer meaning to marketing and entrepreneurship. The art gallery and museum practise a form of marketing which tends to be conventional and risk averse. Surely there are also merits in thinking about how these organizations can produce a form of marketing that more accurately mirrors that practised by the artists they exhibit? Semiotics can be used to transfer messages contained within paintings to other domains. The visual dimension of art can be powerful and therefore has a greater chance of success in transferring meaning than other devices. A potential area of application for the artist as marketer and entrepreneur is in the audience development field. Any audience development activity should acknowledge its social as well as economic role by focusing on relationship marketing and the exploration of existing and development of new networks. Creative context-specific thinking may be required due to the needs of the venue and the audience. Audience development involves the producers of the art, cultural intermediaries such as galleries and museums and the audience. Slater and Armstrong (2010) identify a number of audience involvement characteristics which can be used to drive visitor numbers: centrality and pleasure; desire to learn; escapism, spirituality and creativity; sense of belonging and prestige; and the physical and motivational drivers of involvement. It is also the quality of the experience that drives audience numbers (Radbourne et al. 2009). Another way of looking at the relationship between the audience, gallery or museum and the artist, is that the audience is the consumer and co-creator of the experience (Radbourne et al. 2010). Therefore it should be directly involved in shaping future audience development strategies. A further factor to consider is whether the museum or gallery should follow its own instincts or adopt a market-orientation approach to audience development. This raises the issue of either pursuing artistic ideals or continually offering what the audience expects. The creation 55

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of demand through innovative programming introduces an element of entrepreneurship and risk taking. A differentiating factor between the visual arts and other market sectors is that art as a product has little or no functional or utilitarian value. There is also a close link between artistic practice and entrepreneurial thinking, with links between art making and intuitive vision. The artist can also be viewed as a risk-taking entrepreneurial owner/manager, as can the audience development manager. The philosophical clash of ‘art for art’s sake’ versus ‘art for business’ sake’ should not be viewed as an inhibitor of visual arts marketing progress, but as a catalyst for creative change. Instead of perceiving philosophical clashes as problematical, they should instead be viewed as opportunities for developing new solutions to audience development. Analysing the creative behaviour of entrepreneurial artists as marketers results in the identification of sets of key characteristics which are central to successful performance for arts marketing in general. Although it is unlikely that the majority of art organizations will be able to reach such creative heights as those reached by Pablo Picasso and Salvador Dalí, there are valuable lessons contained in their oeuvre, and their everyday lives, practices and philosophies which can then be identified in their entrepreneurial marketing behaviour. Van Gogh’s drive and self-belief is unveiled by examining his life and work detailed in the remarkable amount of communication by letter between himself and his brother Theo (Roskill 2000). Van Gogh’s rejection of established methods and the pursuit of an alternative system, combined with self-belief and determination are fundamental ingredients in creative entrepreneurial marketing practice. Salvador Dalí was one of the greatest self-publicizing marketers of all time, an ability that allowed him to become a commercial success. An analysis of his characteristics reveals the notion of acute observation and seeing what others cannot see (Gibson 1997). This ability to identify and exploit new opportunities resulted in a competitive advantage which he used to move painting forward. Arts marketers should be prepared at times to think less about the consequences of certain actions and instead focus on experimentation, risk taking and capitalize on any opportunities created as the result of this action. For many arts marketers, the main focus seems to be to learn what others have done and then copy their procedures. For entrepreneurial art marketers, these methods are adapted to suit the needs of the organization or, if these methods do not suit, then alternative solutions are derived.

Further reading Ardley, B. (2006) “Situated Learning and Marketing. Moving Beyond the Rational Technical Thought Cage”, Marketing Intelligence and Planning 24(3): 202–217. (This paper provides further insight into how and why we should think in different ways rather than continue to follow the rational path all the time.) Austin, R. and Devin, L. (2003) Artful Making: What Managers Need to Know About How Artists Work, Upper Saddle River, NJ: Pearson. (This book interrogates the use of art and aesthetics in improving our understanding of an art based way of managing.) Guillet de Monthoux, P. (2004) The Art Firm: Aesthetic Management and Metaphysical Marketing, Stanford, CA: Stanford Business Books. (This book provides in-depth insight into the concept of the art firm, with the manager viewed as an aesthetic philosopher.) Harrison, C. and Wood, P. (2000) Art in Theory 1900–1990: An Anthology of Changing Ideas, Oxford: Blackwell. Harrison, C., Wood, P. and Gaiger, J. (1998) Art in Theory 1815–1900: An Anthology of Changing Ideas, Oxford: Blackwell. (This book is one of many sources rich in marketing and entrepreneurship data from an art historical perspective.)

References Arndt, J. (1985) “The Tyranny of Paradigms: The Case for Paradigmatic Pluralism in Marketing”, in N. Dholakia and J. Arndt (eds) Changing the Course of Marketing: Alternative Paradigms for Widening Marketing Theory, London: JAI Press, 1–15.

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6 ARTS MANAGERS’ CAREER INSIGHTS AND THEIR MARKETING IMPLICATIONS Uma Jogulu and Ruth Rentschler

Introduction This study of arts managers sought to obtain the views of male and female arts managers on how they perceived their current careers and their implications for marketing arts careers as attractive options. There has been silence on arts managers’ careers in the literature until recently (Rentschler and Jogulu 2012), although early studies have indicated that career paths in arts organizations are distorted (DiMaggio 1987). Since arts managers’ careers have many variants largely due to organizational size and context, their career paths are known to be convoluted. There are three relevant assumptions on which the career perceptions of arts managers are based. First, there is the notion that arts managers have a clear career structure within which to develop their careers. Second, there is the notion that all arts organizations are similar in context, type, focus and opportunities, in which arts managers can practise their craft. Third, there is the view that arts managers’ careers are planned. However, the conventional assumptions of career introduced in other management settings are not relevant in the arts, although they have been utilized to describe career patterns in arts organizations. Arts organizations are distinctive in nature – values, creativity and imagination – which drives individual passion and motivation to work. How these values drive employment, to build a career on the basis of principles, ideals and love for the arts is not sufficient to attract individuals to work in the space. From the narratives we have collated, we discuss in this chapter how complex and complicated careers are for arts managers. Then, we draw implications for marketing arts careers based on the discouraging and uncertain stories recounted about career paths.

The context Arts organizations While arts managers’ careers have many variants, many Australian arts organizations possess similar attributes. Arts organizations are more often than not societal institutions offering the audience an emotional experience through dance, theatre, festivals or events, installations, exhibitions or community participation activities. The emotional experiences range in level and scope from

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local community participation to iconic professional performances of opera, theatre, dance, festivals and events, or blockbuster exhibitions of international distinction. Arts organizations are characterized by nonprofit volunteers at board and operational levels, supported by paid administrators, and are reliant more and more on a mix of professional paid staff for management, marketing, finance, retail and fundraising expertise in the iconic arts organizations. Arts organizations often require a mix of revenue sources from government, philanthropists and sponsors, ticket sales, memberships, retail sales through cafes and shops, and from the sale of merchandise. In iconic arts organizations, the broadcast rights of blockbuster events such as super stars in the opera or the visual arts, living or dead – such as Cecilia de Bartoli or Leonardo da Vinci – are becoming common features of events. Philanthropy and sponsorship underpin profile activities. Despite the commercial thrust in elite arts organizations, the majority remain nonprofit structures with social cultures, in which surpluses are returned to the organization for further development of the enterprise. Due to the nature of arts organizations, they remain mostly small to medium-sized with varying numbers of employees and volunteers. It is not uncommon for community arts organizations to have between three and ten employees, with a volunteer board of eight or nine members and 15 to 20 volunteers. Elite arts organizations are larger, but are still defined as a small to medium enterprise. These latter organizations may have between 40 and 400 employees, a volunteer board and a band of highly trained volunteers. These people work for the organization in paid and unpaid capacities, passionately embracing its offering (Suchy 2004). Some arts organizations are stand-alone nonprofit entities while others are linked to larger bureaucracies such as local or state government. For example, art galleries and performing arts venues may be matrix organizations with links to both local government and independent boards of management, making their management structures complex. Arts organizations as we know them in contemporary society have only developed over the last 30 years. In response to organizational changes in the arts, university courses in arts management have emerged from the 1970s until the 1990s, creating a scholarly group whose interests were driven by research on arts organizations, arts managers and the arts. Previously, arts organizations were amateur organizations largely run by volunteers or paid expert specialists such as curators. Most recently, they have professionalized and corporatized their approach to organizational practice. The new management explains the heightened interest by scholars in examining arts managers’ careers. This interest is enhanced further by the interface between arts and business and the irony inherent in managing the business of the arts.

Careers in arts organizations Understanding careers in arts organizations requires both a consideration of organizational contexts and how the concept of career is perceived. As we have discussed the contexts for arts organizations, we illustrate careers within this specific industry and organizational structure. We adopt an inclusive definition of career in this chapter to include work and life inside and outside organizations, as well as a longitudinal and holistic perspective on careers. Scholars identify career as a process that is beyond work, employment and job moves, because career is “any sequence of employment related positions, roles, activities and experiences” (Watts 1996: 25). This approach provides us with social patterns of behaviour that lead to valuable reflection (Murray and Syed 2010) on what a career in an arts organization entails. Many arts managers work outside organizations as well as inside them, holding more than one position at the same time in order to fund their endeavours. Some consider themselves arts managers, while holding volunteer positions, or working at the coal face as artists. This is consistent with the arts manager also being an artist (Throsby and Hollister 2003), thus reflecting the emphasis on hands-on experiences that become the criteria for career progression.

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Arts managers’ careers There has been little written on arts managers’ careers. Two US studies dominate our views on arts managers’ careers, both by sociologists. DiMaggio (1987) studied arts managers and reported that they were well educated, with multiple degrees, especially in the visual arts. Peterson (1986) proposed that arts managers had shifted from being perceived as amateur, and sometimes “failed” artists, to professional with a role that was recognized through formal accountability. There are no similar studies on Australian arts managers. Careers in the arts have been designated as passionate (Suchy 2004). In Australia we need to turn to journalistic reports on arts managers’ careers for further examples of this view. For example, Frances Lindsay, on retiring from her position as Deputy Director of the National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne, told us about her career trajectory. After studying art history at university, she worked in a number of galleries of varying sizes and types in Melbourne, Australia. The reason for her working in the arts was: “My absolute passion is to work in the arts, and in art museums in particular” (Gallery 2012: 37). We know from these few studies that many arts managers are women, of European heritage, but men are more often successful in becoming general managers of large arts organizations. Here is an issue that warrants further exploration. The ongoing view of arts managers’ careers is that they are disorganized and lack the formal structure to attract managers to build a secure career path (DiMaggio 1987). Arts managers’ careers have been called protean (Bridgstock 2005), unstable and chaotic (DiMaggio 1987). In DiMaggio’s study, he was referring to the nonprofit arts organization, not the for-profit or government arts organization. With volatile career paths more likely than not to be the case, this sector is often unappealing and stressful for linear and stable career-oriented individuals to endure. Even passionate arts management careerists burn out. Given this framework, it is not surprising to learn that arts managers are typically less likely to gain permanent employment within an organization, often working short-term on contract, either funded by government or through time-specific activities, such as for festivals and events (Menger 1999). Arts managers may also work as artists, seeking to fund their artistic endeavours through their work as arts managers. Arts managers, therefore, engage in a range of activities such as self-promotion (Schroeder 2005), networking (Rentschler 1999, 2002; Ellmeier 2003; Schroeder 2005), mentoring (Helson 1978; Anheier and Gerhards 1991), business management (Rentschler 2002; Bennett 2009; Schroeder 2005), managing long periods of under- or unemployment (Menger 1999), maintaining professional connections (Anheier and Gerhards 1991; Janssen 1998), and managing their reputation (McCalman 2006; McBride 2009). These matters have marketing implications for arts managers’ careers. Thus, careers in the arts may be undertaken by people seeking opportunities by job-hopping between organizations rather than career-developing in one large organization. This is one of the most critical career path problems facing arts organizations because there are no clear sequences of employment that lead to desired end points. Furthermore, artists are people who may well work alone (Adams and Kowalski 1980; Kosmala 2007). In such instances, creating and maintaining networks becomes a crucial part of artistic and professional development (Anheier and Gerhards 1991; Janssen 1998). The need for networks becomes a vital part of the arts manager’s trajectory for career progression; the literature in this context, however, suggests that female networks lead to a smaller number of leadership opportunities and generate fewer opportunities for recognition for leadership claims (Ely et al. 2011). In adopting a career lens for understanding arts organizations, we provide a framework to understand the factors individuals take into consideration when choosing an industry for work, and the challenges associated with such experiences. 61

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In summary, building on DiMaggio (1987), Peterson (1986) and Suchy’s (1999) work, we place arts managers’ careers into four categories: education; career trajectory; passion; and ethnicity, gender and leadership. These four categories are illustrated in the matrix in Figure 6.1. They provide a means of analysing arts managers’ careers in an Australian context. While we are not viewing arts managers’ careers from a sociological perspective, we recognize the foundational work completed in this domain in the United States.

Research approach As one of the most critical managerial problems facing arts institutions globally, we have had a longitudinal interest in understanding arts managers’ career progression patterns. We have also interacted with the arts community over many years to explore the careers of the individuals who manage other artists. One author has conducted studies of managers and board members in the arts, the other author has conducted studies of artists’ careers internationally, and both authors have studied managers’ careers. We combine this knowledge of artistic and management disciplines in this study, using a quantitative and qualitative framework. Our study took place in several states on the eastern seaboard of Australia. Our purposive sampling comprised a number of respondents in arts organizations in Australia who participated in this study. We believe that purposive sampling is appropriate for an exploratory study where there has been little additional research on careers of arts managers internationally. We designed a questionnaire and interview schedule to elicit responses to questions on arts management careers. The questionnaire was several pages long with three different types of questions. The questions asked respondents about their current work and job situation and their career aspirations. In one section, we asked the participants to report their demographic information. The interviews were designed to expand the survey findings so that we can draw a more holistic view about careers of arts managers. In this study, we report on both survey and interview responses from the respondents. Where the qualitative responses required greater depth, we asked the respondents if they would consent to a second interview. We followed up by interviewing them again, expanding on the themes raised and identified during the first round of data analysis.

Findings and discussion Questionnaire findings The demographic information for our sample indicates that, on average, the respondents had been working in the arts field for 14.8 years. When asked about specific managerial responsibility within the arts organizations, our respondents’ average number of years as managers was 9.5 years. This length of managerial experience compared to corporate organizations such as the finance sector, which may indicate limited opportunities for careers within arts organizations. It may also indicate that, consistent with the literature, career paths to managerial positions are irregular and unpredictable. Table 6.1 shows the summary background information for the participants in this study. In terms of gender split, we had 55 female participants and 18 male participants in the study. While most of our respondents are Australian, we also had one respondent each whose education had been predominantly undertaken in Columbia, Canada, England, Indonesia, Denmark, New Zealand, Vietnam and Papua New Guinea. There is a growing trend for arts managers to come from countries other than Australia, although the majority are still Australian born. This aspect of our study deserves further exploration.

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Education

Career Trajectory

Passion

Ethnicity, Gender and Leadership

Figure 6.1 A matrix approach to arts managers’ careers

Table 6.2 shows the demographic description of the participants, by gender. As can be seen, they are a well-educated group, with all participants (bar one) holding at least one degree, with a number holding two or three degrees. Nine participants hold a doctorate. Educational attainments also reveal the respondents’ deep, rich knowledge about the arts. However, educational attainments also reveal the competitive nature of the arts industry that drives people to ensure that they are highly skilled before securing a managerial position. Most of the people in the study are in their middle years, with a partner and children. The respondents had their managerial careers established relatively recently, another reflection on a field that struggles to attract and retain talented managers, as highlighted by DiMaggio (1987). In terms of living arrangements, most of the sample were married or in a partnership relationship (72.6 per cent of the sample). They have spent between one and two years at their current managerial level, but less time than that in their current organization, and between two and three years as an arts manager. In other words, they are well educated, experienced as managers but do not have as much experience as might be expected for their average ages. This may be due partly to the high level of education and partly to the high level of competition in the arts industry for the few managerial places available. The competitive nature of the arts industry is a matter on which the literature has been silent. Table 6.3 shows the leadership aspirations of respondents. When asked how long respondents wished to remain in their current position, most females were satisfied to stay in their current role, while most males wished to progress. These responses may indicate one reason why more men obtain leadership positions than do women in arts organizations. This is also an area that deserves greater exploration. Table 6.1 Summary background information on the participants (n = 73) Male No. of participants Location Ethnicity Types of industries Job titles No. of staff (mean)

Female

18 55 East and south coasts of Australia Chinese, Indian, Vietnamese, Columbian, Danish, Indonesian, Canadian, Papua New Guinea, New Zealand, Anglo-European, Vietnamese Music, dance, theatre, nonprofit arts, university galleries, local government Arts Manager Arts Manager 1.5–25 1.5–25

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Uma Jogulu and Ruth Rentschler Table 6.2 Demographic description of the participants (n = 73)

Education - School - U/grad - Masters - PhD Age (mean) Marital status - Partnered - Single Children - None - One or more Time in current position (mean) Time in current organization (mean) Time as manager (mean)

Male

Female

– 5 7 3 40–49 years

1 15 21 6 40–49 years

15 3

38 17

11 7 70 mths 51 mths 148 mths

27 28 50 mths 33 mths 100 mths

Note: Twelve female participants did not answer the question about their level of education.

Interview findings

Education In analysing the educational responses of participants, we found they were conscious of the need for formal qualifications, believing that: “more education will help my career. I plan to study for a PhD to move my career forward”. Education, judiciously chosen, has progressed some arts managers’ careers, as one young female arts manager told us who gained employment immediately after finishing her Master’s degree in Arts Management: I studied Arts Management at Melbourne University. I finished the course two years ago. I had done the management and administration for an a capella group. I have experience in events. My thesis was on indigenous festivals too, so the academic work backs up my work experience. However, her experience is unusual. As there are so few positions available in mostly small organizations, and so many people seeking them, education alone is not the answer to an arts manager’s career. As Andi told us: “there are only big steps in the arts, not lots of little ones. You need to prepare yourself for the next big step.” Preparing yourself for the next big step is hard Table 6.3 Leadership aspirations (n = 73)

Maintain current position Obtain senior position in current org. Change career

Male

Female

7 9 1

23 17 10

Note: One male participant and five female participants did not answer this question (total of six respondents).

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to do when competition is fierce. You need to stand out from the crowd. On the other hand, you can position yourself so that your education singles you out when you seek employment. Susie did this when she moved from New Zealand to Australia as an experienced arts manager. As a mature woman with a PhD, she argued: I have done a lot of tertiary education. You can contribute a lot to the community with education. It empowers you to address some people’s stereotypes about artists. Creating your image as an arts manager and using the niche you have carved for yourself as a promotional edge is the gap that needs to be bridged by many arts managers. Most arts managers obtained their first qualification as a practising artist, art historian or similar. Susie told us further how she distinguishes herself: “I was a jewellery maker first. Therefore, I have an affinity with artists in visual and performing arts.” Hence, Susie uses her education in partnership with her other qualifications and practice in the arts to weave a story that appeals to employers and progresses her career.

Career trajectory When thinking about developing a career, then, telling the career story is a crucial concept. Arts managers told us that a clear progression of opportunity-sequences of jobs leads to desired end points. One interviewee told us: “The pathway to arts management is very convoluted.” This respondent is young, well educated with both a Bachelor’s degree in humanities and a Master’s degree in Arts Management from one of the top universities in Australia. She is confident, but quiet. She started work as a marketing coordinator and is now in charge of international touring at a circus. The jumps in her career have been sharp and stark and dramatic, from one position to the next. Her skills in marketing, project management and budgeting have been crucial to her positions in arts management. Another interviewee told us: “I haven’t had a planned career. I haven’t set out on a journey to get to a senior level. I’ve been driven by the nature of the project.” Carol is in regional arts management, and views the importance of “flexibility” in life and in work as central to her career success in a “very competitive field” that is less well resourced. Second, as previous research has indicated, in arts organizations, careers are chaotic, and there are limited advancement and hierarchical progression opportunities. For instance, one of our respondents said that: “There is no clear career pathway in the arts. You have to have passion that you are doing good in the world.” Another view suggests that even with specific experience it is tough to advance because of a lack of cross-departmental experiences to build diverse managerial skills and experiences: Small departments in local government often do not have the numbers or complexity of roles to allow for secondment or higher duties experiences. The same can be said of arts organizations in my experience. An employee is more likely to get a taste of another role if someone goes on extended leave or leaves their role altogether. Again, Carol, a regional arts manager, believes that she must perform her job from the goodness of her heart and not necessarily expect career progression to motivate her passion and endeavours: You need to do the best you can. Deliver good services with passion and commitment, so that it leads to new work. Then you don’t need to worry too much about the future.

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Match that with formal study that mirrors your experience, and you have the skill-set you need to succeed. In other words, career trajectories are a mix of educational and other skills, driven by passion. The majority of the arts managers told us that they generally did not have a career path planned until they “slid into” arts management. One female interviewee told us that she was not ambitious but “just puts one foot in front of the other”. She started her career as a performer then slid into administration and now arts management. She said: “It was beneficial to understand performance. It helped me as an administrator and then as an arts manager.” This interviewee has no tertiary qualifications, but has responsibility for a son who is 10 years old. She is also managing ten staff in her present role as a manager without any formal education or training in management. Her position is unusual in the arts, where people usually have university degrees. Most people we spoke to have started their careers as artists, as painters, sculptors, bassoonists or actors, for example. This reflected some reasons as to why careers in the arts are convoluted. One of our managers stated that “It is the way that a lot of professional musicians are.” She said further: “It was not until I got into arts management that I could see other possibilities further up the ladder where I could have a larger impact.” This arts manager is typical of our respondents. She is a female, in her middle years, with a Bachelor’s degree in her performance area and learned to become a manager on the job, with short professional development courses filling the knowledge gaps. She has had a mentor, whom she valued highly. One male arts manager told us of how career trajectories can be set back by unexpected events. Sam is young and energetic, well educated with three degrees and studying for a fourth. He is a good networker, and a people person who started work as an artist. He told us: Back in Brisbane I did freelance work. Then I got the community development team leader role, with 18 people at the council. Then a restructure occurred. I was promoted to senior manager with 25 staff. I kicked big goals. Then there were budget cuts, and the team was dismantled. People with integrity, who were in the arts and culture team, were put off. The whole thing was dismantled. I took three months leave. I was devastated. I told them they didn’t need me. I was passionate about what I was doing, so I was hurt myself too. Sam is not alone in his experiences of devastation and disappointment, as Andi told us: I completed a Graduate Certificate in Museum Studies at university which got me the job at the National Exhibitions Touring Support program four days per week. I stayed 18 months. I joined the state gallery as assistant curator. I stayed in that role 18 months. I was promoted to curator international exhibitions and worked for the deputy director for five years. I did the blockbuster international shows. I went to New York with the deputy director. After that show he left the gallery. I was made redundant after he left. I left the state gallery without a job. My confidence took a big hit. Another senior male arts manager told us that: “the arts can throw you some curly balls. It doesn’t matter how hard you hit the mat. It is how you get up that counts.” The difficult balancing act between developing arts programs and seeing them torn apart, leaving careers in tatters, was a theme in many of our interviews. Typically, the arts manager then obtains further education in the management domain, meaning that their career trajectory is one 66

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of education and arts management positions following one after the other. As Susie tells us, strong links to the arts often keep arts managers going when times get tough. They see themselves returning to arts practice when they retire, returning to their roots: “I am not young”, but, “I’ve had start up roles and wins across the board. I found it hard to be a manager and an artist and let go of the art. I made that call. When I retire I will do the art again.”

Passion Judy told us: “passion drives most arts managers; it’s not about the money. It’s managers’ love of the arts. Most managers have a connection, either as an artist or as a lover of the arts.” Another manager, also in their middle years, spoke about “passion” by emphasizing the fact that an arts career is not well-paid employment, therefore, the drive to do a good job and remain in the same industry is strongly influenced by a passion for arts: The first thing that comes to mind is that the arts are not always well paid. So you need to know the impact of your work because of the lack of money. So you need to be passionate about it. These views were reflected in most of our interviews. Cindy, an arts manager in her middle years, also told us: “Coming from performance into management you need to be very clear about your personal values. It will have an impact on the type of leader you are.” Perhaps the following representative quotation sums up the views of many respondents: “I like working in the nonprofit sector as I feel I am making a difference.” Arts managers work in organizations with a social mission. This view tells us that it is not always money or status that people seek in an arts career, but self-worth and a sense of being valued that working in the nonprofit community provides. One male senior arts manager told us that even though he had the ability to study maths and science, it did not provide an internal motivator, so he studied music instead: I started studying maths and science but it wasn’t a passion of mine. I dropped out and studied full-time drama. That’s what started the passion. Music is my passion. What is significant for me is to be driven, basically by fear of failure. I have a passion for the arts. I have tears in my eyes and they roll down my cheeks when I think of my career. The arts saved me.

Leadership, ethnicity and gender In analysing the responses from our male and female arts managers, leadership was a theme that was mentioned by many of our respondents. Arts managers told us that it was difficult to obtain the internal experiences they needed in order to become leaders due to “limited opportunities for taking on higher duties”, “organizational size being small institutions”, and a lack of interest by established elite arts organizations’ senior managers to mentor small and medium-sized organizations’ arts mangers. Our respondents recognized that they were the next generation of arts leaders but they were disappointed in the lack of interest from stakeholders in developing their skills so that they could progress their careers. While leadership is much discussed in mainstream management, it has been largely overlooked in the arts management literature. Leadership and passion were strongly linked in the arts sector. Further, leadership, ethnicity and gender were also interconnected. A young arts manager told us that: 67

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I would like to think, in this century, gender is not such an issue, however, with most major gallery directors being men, and something like 90% of the general manager roles (as well as CEO) in my local government organization being filled by men, one has to admit gender appears a factor, even if it only dampens a woman’s confidence of the likelihood that a senior management role will ever be hers. This respondent is well educated, under 40 years of age, completing her second tertiary degree in her domain of the visual arts, with her first degree also being in the visual arts. However, her response was not so different from that of another arts manager from the performing arts. This arts manager told us: In so many positions, the women cop a lot more emotional blackmail than the men. They think women can be pushed a lot more than men because their emotions are closer to the surface. I was often surrounded by men in my executive positions as an arts manager. It is still a male-dominated world. The views of the interviewees also add value to the survey data that we anonymously collected from arts managers in Australia. Table 6.4 reports on the career aspirations held by managers in their current employment. One surprise is that a significant number of women compared with their male counterparts wished to maintain their current position. This implies that women in arts organizations do not wish to progress their careers. Is this view because of the perceived “glass ceiling” in arts organizations? Do other factors external to the workplace influence this perception indicated in the interviews? Since there have been so few studies on arts managers’ careers, we cannot answer these questions within the scope of this study, prompting us to seek to extend our work in this domain. Respondents told us that “much depends on your workplace values and culture” in regard to the way that careers develop. They expressed views on the need for board competency, recognition for the skills and dedication through hard work that arts managers bring to the organization, and the creation of a climate that helps not hinders development and progression. Nonetheless, one female arts manager told us that you need to create your own opportunities in your career: If it means speaking to your boss, do it. What drove me is that there is a lot of injustice in the world and I had to work towards alleviating it. Then I felt better about my place in the world. You need to nurture your dreams.

Table 6.4 Current career aspirations My present career aspirations Female

Male

I would like to maintain my current position I would like to obtain a leadership position in my present organization I would like to change my career

23 17 10

7 9 1

TOTAL

50

17

Note: Six respondents did not answer this question.

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In other words, given the scant information we have to date, there is little consensus on how leadership opportunities can progress arts managers’ careers. Thus, we need to understand more about leadership needs and arts managers’ careers, so that individuals seeking to contribute to the creative industries can make informed decisions on strategies they can undertake to progress their careers in a competitive marketplace.

Conclusions This chapter has argued that arts managers’ careers can be viewed from four perspectives: education; career trajectory; passion; and ethnicity, gender and leadership. The results provide evidence of the need to initiate debate on arts managers’ careers. Certainly, there is a need for additional research on arts managers’ careers so that we understand not only their motivations and expectations, but also their perceptions and needs for career development. The results do point to the paucity of knowledge on arts managers’ careers and the lack of help provided to arts managers seeking to manage their careers. A productive way forward may be to acquire a better understanding not only of the different environments in which arts managers find themselves, but also increased recognition of the similarities of the obstacles expressed by arts managers in the survey and subsequent interviews. Arts managers operate in a dynamic, rapidly changing environment, where the skills needed to survive, let alone advance, are also changing. Arts managers need to develop the career skills to help them meet the needs of the organization of the future. They need to ensure they are not trapped in the day-to-day, where they are so busy they have little time to look to the future, or to develop strategic approaches to renewing their skill sets. Career development requires individuals to ascertain the skills they require in networking and mentoring as well as innovation, project management and strategic thinking. These skills may well entail development that is not necessarily available in small to medium-sized arts and nonprofits organizations, but could be provided by consultants, government or larger providers. Success may call for innovation, not only in the art produced but also in the management applied to develop the art for its audiences. Arts managers need to differentiate themselves as marketers in the cut-throat arts business environment that is often overlooked. Given that management development is a key skill for career advancement, arts policy makers may need to direct more attention to helping the future of this growing and dynamic industry sector.

References Adams, M. C. and Kowalski, G. S. (1980) Professional Self-Identification Among Art Students. Studies in Art Education, 21, 31–39. Anheier, H. K. and Gerhards, J. (1991) Literary Myths and Social Structure. Social Forces, 69, 151–170. Bennett, D. (2009) Academy and the Real World: Developing Realistic Notions of a Career in the Performing Arts. Arts & Humanities in Higher Education, 8, 309–327. Bridgstock, R. (2005) Australian Artists, Starving and Well-Nourished: What Can We Learn from the Prototypical Protean Career? Australian Journal of Career Development, 14, 40–48. DiMaggio, P. J. (1987) Managers of the Arts. Santa Ana, CA: Seven Locks Press. Ellmeier, A. (2003) Cultural Entrepreneurialism: On the Changing Relationship between the Arts, Culture and Employment. International Journal of Cultural Policy, 9, 3–16. Ely, R., Ibarra, H. and Kolb, D. (2011) Taking Gender into Account: Theory and Design for Women’s Leadership Development Programs. Academy of Management Learning and Education, 10(3), 474–493. Gallery (2012) Perspective: Frances Lindsay. Gallery, September/October, 36–37. Helson, R. (1978) Writers and Critics: Two Types of Vocational Consciousness in the Art System. Journal of Vocational Behavior, 12, 351–363.

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Janssen, S. (1998) Side-Roads to Success: The Effect of Sideline Activities of the Status of Writers. Poetics, 25, 265–280. Kosmala, K. (2007) The Identity Paradox? Reflections on Fluid Identity of Female Artist. Culture and Organization, 13, 37–53. McBride, J. (2009) A Reputation: Steven Spielberg and the Eyes of the World. New Review of Film and Television Studies, 7, 1–11. McCalman, I. (2006) Spectres of Quackery: The Fragile Career of Philippe de Loutherbourg. Cultural and Social History, 3, 341–354. Menger, P.-M. (1999) Artistic Labor Markets and Careers. Annual Review of Sociology, 25, 541–574. Murray, P. and Syed, J. (2010) Gendered Observations and Experiences in Executive Women’s Work. Human Resource Management Journal, 20(3), 277–293. Peterson, R.A. (1986) From Impresario to Arts Administrator: Formal Accountability in Nonprofit Cultural Organizations. In Paul DiMaggio (ed.) Nonprofit Enterprise in the Arts: Studies in Mission and Constraint. New York: Oxford University Press. Rentschler, R. (ed.) (1999) Innovative Arts Marketing. Sydney: Allen & Unwin. Rentschler, R. (2002) The Entrepreneurial Arts Leader. St Lucia: University of Queensland Press. Rentschler, R. and Jogulu, U. (2012) Are Passion and Ambition Enough to Support the Career of a Female Arts Manager? In Andrea Hausmann and Laura Murzik (eds) Erfolgsfaktor Mitarbeiter. Neue Wege des Personalmanagements für Kultureinrichtungen. Wiesbaden: VS Verlag. Schroeder, J. E. (2005) The Artist and the Brand. European Journal of Marketing, 39, 1291–1305. Suchy, S. (1999) Emotional Intelligence, Passion and Museum Leadership. Museum Management and Curatorship, 18(1), 57–71. Suchy, S. (2004) Leading with Passion: Change Management in the 21st Cenutry Museum. Walnut Creek, CA: AltaMira Press. Throsby, C. D. and Hollister, V. (2003) Don’t Give up your Day Job: An Economic Study of Professional Artists in Australia. Sydney: Australia Council. Watts, A. (1996) Careerquake: Policy Supports for Self-managed Careers. London: Demos.

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7 THE ART OF MARKETING ARTS MARKETING TO ARTISTS Suzette Major

Introduction Are all artists marketing advocates? Do all artists believe in the value of marketing, or are there still those who question the role that marketing should play in the process of artistic creation? This chapter contends that some individual artists, particularly in the traditional fine arts discipline, remain wary of marketing; cautious of the degree that the market should influence their creative process. Phrases such as ‘selling out’ or ‘jeopardizing artistic integrity’ can still be heard in the halls of traditional arts schools and the idea of teaching marketing to art students is still abhorrent in some circles. So what can be done to address such reservations? A possible solution, which is presented in this chapter, is to apply marketing thinking to this very dilemma: by considering arts marketing as an idea that needs marketing to artists. The following chapter thereby places the ‘apprehensive artist’ at the centre of a communication strategy and considers how to present arts marketing to them in a way that is digestible and acceptable. As a result, archetypal arts marketing topics are re-framed in order to position marketing as a potential tool that can enhance rather than undermine artistic work.

Topic 1: The changing artistic landscape Artists love art. Typically they do what they do because of an inherent interest and adoration for artistic work. It is in their blood. They live to create rather than create to live. When approaching artists to market the idea of arts marketing it is best to begin by talking about the arts world. The arts world is the world within which they are comfortable and it is from this place that they will judge the merits of marketing. Starting with the art world is beneficial from an arts marketing perspective because that very world has undergone tremendous change in recent decades. This change is perhaps best described through the rise of the creative industries. The creative industries are “those industries which have their origin in individual creativity, skill and talent and which have a potential for wealth and job creation through the generation and exploitation of intellectual property” (Creative Industries Task Force 1998). The 13 sectors that have been identified as forming part of the creative industries include advertising, architecture, arts and antiques, crafts, design, fashion, film, software, music, performing arts, publishing, television and radio. In New Zealand and 71

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around the globe the creative industries have been heralded as key to the twenty-first century economy and are recognized as contributing a significant proportion to the economy, both in terms of domestic and foreign export earnings as well as employment (Ministry for Culture and Heritage 2009; Ministry for Economic Development 2002; NZIER 2009). In New Zealand, there have been calls to position creativity as “the new nationalism”. Former Chair of Creative New Zealand Peter Biggs, for example, suggests that “those industries traditionally associated with creativity and therefore the arts have a huge role to play in the future economic well-being of the country” (Biggs 2003). With the rise of the creative industries, the days of the struggling artist are all but disappearing. The ‘myth of the artist’ – the idea that an artist is “vague and non-material” (author unknown 2005: 7) and, at its extreme, starving and suffering for their artistic work, is becoming increasingly challenged. Indeed, as described by art critic Warwick Brown, “there’s never been a better time to be a contemporary artist, collector or art lover” (Brown 2009). In such a rich and evolving environment, it is increasingly possible to develop a strong and viable artistic career. And marketing is central to the development of that career, for in order to ride the wave of the creative industries artists need to become known and acclaimed. Drawing these two worlds together: that of the creative industries and the excitement that surrounds them, and that of the artist as an individual practising within the creative industries, allows for a positive discussion of arts marketing to emerge. The arts world, and in particular the flourishing creative industries, offers a way to begin the discussion of the merits of arts marketing to the apprehensive artist.

Topic 2: The birth of arts marketing, the death of the artist? When an artist who is not commercially oriented is first presented with the concept of arts marketing, their apprehension may be the result of a concern that the marketplace rather than the artist will dictate creative exploration. By creating artistic work to fulfil customer needs, an artist may fear that their ideas are no longer considered or valid. To put it evocatively, does the birth of arts marketing mean the death of the artist? Such concerns are deeply rooted in arts circles and openly discussed in traditional art schools. Adorno and Horkheimer’s (1944) analysis of the cultural industries for example are presented to serve as a warning about the marketplace’s dominance over artistic expression. They claim that, Movies and radio need no longer pretend to be art. The truth that they are just business is made into an ideology in order to justify the rubbish they deliberately produce. They call themselves industries; and when their directors’ incomes are published, any doubt about the social utility of the finished products is removed. (in Schor and Holt 2000: 4) Having coined the term ‘culture industries’ to describe what they saw as an unnecessary emphasis on the economic outcomes of cultural ‘products’, Adorno and Horkheimer, along with other members of the Frankfurt School, sought to critique this sullying of the art world as appealing to the ‘lowest common denominator’, or offering only entertainment, rather than art. They state, “the deception is not that the culture industry supplies amusement but that it ruins the fun by allowing business considerations to involve it in the ideological clichés of a culture in the process of self-liquidation” (in Schor and Holt 2000: 14). The commercial creator, as one who deals specifically with satisfying consumer desires, is at the centre of this deception.

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Addressing such concerns up front is essential as part of the ‘apprehensive artist’ accepting the value of arts marketing. Reassuring an artist that their creative insights still hold weight in the development process is critical. A customer orientation does not ignore the artist’s perspective nor does it presuppose that their artistic integrity will be compromised. As outlined by Kotler and Scheff, to adopt a customer orientation “does not mean that an organization [or individual] must cater to every consumer whim and fancy as many managers fear. Those who warn of such consequences if the devil (marketing) is let in the door simply misunderstand what a customer orientation truly means” (Kotler and Scheff 1997: 34). It can also be helpful to ask if arts marketing is only applicable to those artists who are commercially minded, or can all artists benefit from developing a marketing mindset in their creative practice? Most artists, even those who fear the deception outlined by Adorno and Horkheimer, are keen to move beyond the confines of their studio. Even the quintessential fine artist working in isolation in their home studio benefits from engaging with others about their work. And if art is important for society (i.e. the ‘arts for art’s sake’ argument), then the individual artist must be prepared to present their work to society, even if it’s not for financial reward. In all cases, whether an artist holds a commercial mindset or not, marketing is key – as it provides a bridge between the artist and the outside world. Effectively marketing arts marketing in this manner can reassure an artist that they are very much alive and supported as a result of arts marketing rather than alienated or dominated.

Topic 3: The arts: who cares? Once an artist has accepted that others may hold an interest in their artistic practice, the conversation can widen further to the multiple stakeholders in the arts including government and private organizations. Government as a stakeholder in the arts can be analysed from a political perspective: Should the arts be a public or purchasable good? Should we be developing cultural citizens or consumers? Or, from a resource and funding perspective, in what ways does the government support the arts in our society? What government funding is available for individual artists in support of their creative practice? Either discussion helps position an artist beyond their individual practice and thereby recognize multiple audiences and stakeholders in the arts. A similar analytical view can be applied to other stakeholders such as private businesses. The notion of arts sponsorship is typically not foreign, even to the apprehensive artist who might question the role of arts marketing. For arts sponsorship has close alignment to arts patronage – a concept readily accepted as critical for the development of the arts, particularly in early modern Europe. As with the two previous topics, aligning marketing ideas with concepts that artists already accept is critical. The marketing jargon, such as ‘strategic collaborations’ can come later once a shift in thinking occurs towards becoming arts marketing advocates. Finally, positioning this topic about arts audiences and stakeholders as a provocative question about ‘who cares?’ forces an artist to recognize that people do ‘care’ about what they do. For an artist who may lack confidence or have felt undervalued in their creative practice, this sense of appreciation can be critical.

Topic 4: [E]valuating the arts Once the foundation of arts marketing is established – and in particular the concept of customer orientation – it becomes possible to move towards discussing specific elements of the marketing mix. This topic considers the price variable, but positions it more widely within the idea of valuing the arts. 73

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Opening a discussion about ‘value’ to an artist can be challenging, as it can inevitably raise issues of self-worth. If an artist has been unfortunate enough to not feel valued for what they do, either by family and friends or by society at large, it can unearth deep-seated psychological issues. Such discussions need to be well managed in order to acknowledge but move beyond the personal to a broader discussion of how the arts are valued by society, including the appropriate economic value that should be placed on an artwork. For many artists, pricing their work is one of the most puzzling tasks to perform. This is not only because of the difficulties of identifying direct and indirect costs associated with artistic work or the inaccuracies of assessing price based on an hourly rate, but often because of a desperate need for money that an emerging artist in particular may be facing. Approaching pricing from a marketing perspective, and helping an artist to understand the link of pricing to their overall market positioning is a critical but complex issue.

Topic 5: The arts exposed For the purpose of this exercise in considering how to market arts marketing to artists, the marketing mix variable of promotion is re-framed as ‘The Arts Exposed’. Exposure – a particularly artistic term used in photography – positions the concept of promotion in a broader conversation about presenting your work to the world and thereby revealing who you are as an artist. Using cases such as Spencer Tunick’s provocative photographs of naked bodies in public places, or Damien Hirst’s heavily publicized and shocking works such as The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living (1991) give real examples to this fascinating topic. What is Spencer Tunick provoking through his photographs? What is Damien Hirst’s motivation for encasing a whole dead shark in a glass cabinet filled with formaldehyde? What are such artists saying about who they are? What messages are they communicating? And how are they communicating those ideas? Such questions are ultimately marketing questions, as much as they are critiques of the artwork. Focusing the concept of promotion through the broader lens of communication allows an artist to make the connection between their work and how it might be communicated to their audience. The inherent cynicism of some artists toward commercialization can be used to an advantage in this topic as they can often offer insightful critique of advertising tactics. And criticizing how others have promoted their wares leads to the inevitable question: then how would you do it? By answering this question, an artist will inescapably begin the task of developing a promotional strategy and thereby recognize the value of promotion as an effective arts marketing tool.

Topic 6: Creating space The marketing mix variable of place is re-framed for this exercise as ‘space’ – that which is both physical and virtual. Discussion of the ‘physical’ space opens a conversation about art studios and is particularly relevant if the studio is visited by customers. Some artists regard their studios as sacred and easily appreciate the need to carefully consider its atmosphere, layout and physical location as part of the overall experience. The ‘virtual’ space is just as captivating and offering examples of how technology is changing the face of arts marketing can be useful. Technology can be used as a promotional tool to present an artist and their work, a distribution tool such as virtual art galleries that exhibit art work for sale, and as a creative tool. The use of technology as a creative tool, with examples such as the infamous Agent Ruby eDream Portal that was exhibited through the San Francisco Museum of 74

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Modern Art website or Vuk C´osic´’s net art such as This is Unreal that only exists in the virtual realm, typically lead to heated discussions about that most fundamental of questions: is this art? By re-framing the marketing mix variable of place to the broader notion of space, this topic can be as much about the nature of art as it can be about the tactics of arts marketing.

Topic 7: The art of marketing art Having outlined the fundamental principles of arts marketing, without necessarily employing typical marketing speak, an artist is hopefully by now accepting the role of marketing in the art world as a positive, valuable and necessary tool. This topic moves from the previously carefully constructed conversations about arts marketing to an explicit and deliberate arts marketing spiel. This is where the connections can be made: you know when we spoke about who might be interested in your artwork? That’s called your target market. You know when we discussed people visiting your art studio? That’s part of the place variable in the marketing mix. Piece by piece the elements of arts marketing can come together – drawing on the previous six topics to outline how arts marketing is simply about the bringing together of an artist with their target market by way of the variables within the marketing mix: product, price, promotion and place. For even the most cynical artist who may not be commercially oriented or who was previously resistant to the idea of marketing their work, this topic lays bare the unavoidable truth that arts marketing is effective and relevant. Table 7.1 summarizes how each archetypal arts marketing topic can therefore be re-framed in order to position marketing in a relevant and positive light for the ‘apprehensive artist’.

Further considerations Despite attempts here to position arts marketing in an alternative light with a particular focus on targeting the ‘resistant’ fine artist, it is also important to recognize that some artists may never be interested in adapting to a customer orientation. Ultimately, the choice to apply marketing techniques to artistic creation is a personal one and each individual artist must at some point make a decision in their artistic career as to what degree they want to become market oriented. The approach outlined above is not an attempt to deceive or trick an artist into the merits of arts marketing, rather it is an endeavour to show how business speak can be arts friendly and thereby presents arts marketing ideas as accessible and relevant. In the end, with a knowledge of arts marketing in hand, if an artist chooses not to applying marketing to their art practice then that choice should be as celebrated – because it is a decision that has been made with clear knowl-

Table 7.1 Comparison of archetypal and alternative arts marketing topics targeting the ‘apprehensive artist’ Archetypal arts marketing topics*

Alternative topic and content

The arts: the market and the environment Audiences Marketing research/Product Pricing Promotion Place Marketing planning

The changing artistic landscape The arts: who cares? The birth of arts marketing, the death of the artist? [E]valuating the arts Exposing the arts Creating space The art of marketing art

*Note: Adapted from Hill et al. (1995).

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edge of the implications of that decision rather than an uninformed reaction against the ‘relentless marketing machine’. Provision should also be made for artists who genuinely lack confidence in their ability and struggle with the idea of taking their artwork into the marketplace. The very personal nature of artistic expression means that any criticism of their work (either through formal review or by lack of interest shown through sales) can be hurtful and damaging. Marketing requires a degree of objectivity but it can be difficult to be objective when the object in question is so personal. Arts marketing may help in this regard by ensuring the most appropriate market group is targeted, but care should be taken to not enforce a customer orientation upon those artists who have no desire to engage with customer feedback. In both of these cases – where an artist chooses not to be market-oriented or where an artist feels genuinely uncomfortable at the prospect – Hirschman’s model of ‘creative orientations’ can be helpful. While nearly 30 years old and one of the earliest academic articles on arts marketing, this model still holds relevance today. As outlined in that ground-breaking paper and reviewed in Kim Barbour’s (2006) Master’s thesis on artistic integrity, Hirschman suggests three possible creative orientations: self, peer and commercial, which coexist together and within one another, as seen in Figure 7.1. Self-oriented creativity is when the primary audience for the creative work is the self, and the main objective is self-expression (Hirschman 1983). Although there may be economic benefits from the work, this is not the motivation for the work being created. Peer-oriented creativity has industry experts and the creative practitioner’s peers as the primary audience. The main objective is to gain recognition and acclaim from those whose opinion the artist values (Hirschman 1983). As with self-orientation, there may be economic spin-offs but, again, this is not the main reason for the creation of the work. Third, commercial creativity has the public-at-large as the main audience, and here the primary objective is money. In this case, the artist may make significant compromises in their work to allow it to appeal to a greater audience, as this is necessary to achieve the primary objective (Hirschman 1983). Often artists may work in more than one of these orientations, creating works for themselves, for competitions or industry events, and for a mass market.

Self-Oriented Creativity Primary audience: self Primary objective: self-expression

Peer-Oriented Creativity

Commercialized Creativity

Primary audience: peers and industry professionals

Primary audience: the public-at-large

Primary objective: recognition, acclaim

Figure 7.1 Hirschman’s (1983) model of creative orientations

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Presenting Hirschman’s creative orientations model provides another alternative approach to arts marketing. For the artists who genuinely resist a customer orientation, this model can show that a self- or peer-orientation may be more acceptable.

Conclusion Arts marketing is a growing discipline. Over the past decade in particular there has been a surge in books and journal publications, conferences and special issues dedicated to this field. Arts marketing courses pepper tertiary institutions worldwide, both within business schools as well as art schools. The creative industries have only added to the flurry, with practitioners increasingly interested in how to ride the wave of the creative economy. But as we forge ahead, it is important to acknowledge that for some artists, particularly non-commercially oriented artists who have been educated through traditional fine art schools, the concept of marketing is still foreign and confrontational. Some work is still needed to introduce arts marketing in such circles and this chapter has attempted to demonstrate one way of approaching this task. By applying marketing thinking and considering the particular characteristics of the artist at hand, arts marketing itself could be re-framed to become more digestible and acceptable. In this way, this chapter suggests that there may be an art to marketing arts marketing to artists.

Further reading Florida, R. (2002) The Rise of the Creative Class. New York: Basic Books. (Classic book that signals the rise of the creative industries worldwide.) kenga – Portrait of an Artist. Wellington, New Zealand. (A Creative New Zealand publication that presents the results of an extensive survey of artists in Aotearoa New Zealand.) Tusa, J. (2003) On Creativity: Interviews Exploring the Process. London: Methuen. (Interviews with 12 artists that explore the challenges associated with artistic creation.)

References Adorno, T. W. and Horkheimer, M. (1944) “The Culture Industry: Enlightenment as Mass Deception.” In J. B. Schor and D. B. Holt (eds) (2000) The Consumer Society Reader, pp. 3–19. New York: New Press. Author unknown (2005) “The Myth of the Starving Artist.” Dominion Post 8 June, 7. Barbour, K. (2006) “Constructing Artistic Integrity: An Exploratory Study.” Master’s Thesis, University of Waikato, Hamilton, New Zealand. Biggs, Peter (2003) Public Lecture. 6 May. University of Waikato, Hamilton, New Zealand. Brown, Warwick (2009) Art is the New Commerce: (Accessed 19 December 2012). Creative Industries Task Force (1998) The Creative Industries Mapping Report. London. Hill, E., O’Sullivan, C. and O’Sullivan, T. (1995) Creative Arts Marketing. Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann. Hirschman, E. (1983) “Aesthetics, Ideologies and the Limits of the Marketing Concept.” Journal of Marketing 47, 45–55. Kotler, P. and Scheff, J. (1997) Standing Room Only: Strategies for Marketing the Performing Arts. Boston, MA: Harvard Business School Press. Ministry for Culture and Heritage (2009) Employment in the Cultural Sector. Wellington, New Zealand. Ministry for Economic Development (2002) The Creative Industries in New Zealand – Economic Contribution. Wellington, New Zealand. NZIER (2009) The Creative Sector in New Zealand – Mapping and Economic Role. Report to New Zealand Trade and Enterprise, New Zealand. Schor, J. B. and Holt, D. B. (eds) (2000) The Consumer Society Reader. New York: New Press.

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PART III

Arts organizational management and strategies

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8 ORGANIZATIONAL IDENTITY AND MARKETING IN THE ARTS Zannie Giraud Voss and Naomi Grabel

Introduction Success is the ability of an organization to accomplish its mission. (Fisman et al. 2009: 39) In this chapter, we link mission and organizational identity to organizational image and branding in order to illustrate that an organization’s mission has to be clear, cohesive, compelling, and connected to the consumer in order to drive success. We advocate that, as the arts face increasing competition for consumer attention, they should consider going back to basics in order to excel. A key to a sustainable future begins with a strong, unambiguous, and vibrant sense of purpose that carries through all aspects of the organization and energizes all those who encounter it.

Organizational identity In the arts, organizational mission is synonymous with organizational identity. Both terms have received a great deal of attention in the managerial and academic literature. Mission is, quite simply, an organization’s reason for being. It is required in order to incorporate for nonprofit status in the USA, but its importance is much more far-reaching. Organizational identity has been defined as the set of beliefs about what is most core, enduring, and distinctive about an organization (Albert and Whetten 1985), or “who we are” as an organization (Voss et al. 2006). According to Collins and Porras (1996), the values that form the basis of organizational identity are essential and enduring tenets that are intrinsic to the firm’s mission and unaffected by the external environment. They further maintain that “a great company decides for itself what values it holds to be core, largely independent of the current environment, competitive requirements, or management fads” (p. 67). Every organization requires an identity in order for those internal and external to the organization to build a sense of how it is situated amongst and interacts with other organizations, groups, and people (Albert et al. 2000). In this way, identity distinguishes the organization from other, similar organizations (Albert and Whetten 1985; Ashforth and Mael 1989). So why does mission matter? Presumably, an organization’s mission drives its vision, goals, strategies, and tactics (Sawhill and Williamson 2001). Organizational identity is formed by top leaders’ establishment of core values and beliefs, but mission should not stop there. It converts into tangible impact when the core values and beliefs are employed to guide and drive the organization’s behavior. A primary goal of leadership is establishing a unified identity that organizational members can understand and follow (Ackerman 2000; Brown and Starkey 2000; Collins and Porras 1996; Gronstedt and Thorson 1996; Scott and Lane 2000). Voss, Cable, and Voss (2006: 81

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741) assert that, “An organization’s top leaders must be able to answer the question ‘who are we?’ as an organization because it affects how they interpret issues, identify threats, craft strategy, communicate about the organization, and resolve conflicts.” Identity beliefs affect organizational goals, internal and external communication, how money and people are deployed, and decisions about which resources and customers to pursue (e.g. Albert and Whetten 1985; Glynn 2000). Fisman et al. (2009: 39) use the term “True North” to capture the idea that all decisions made by an organization should be in full alignment with its mission, and that no decision that takes the organization off-course from its mission should be pursued. According to this perspective, managers lead by clearly communicating and diffusing the identity throughout the organization. Despite the unique nature of most mission statements, the core values underlying missions boil down to five general categories that have been found to be relevant and important in the arts (Voss et al. 2000): Artistic value dimension. Artistic values reflect prioritization of the intrinsic drive for artistic creativity, innovation, and independence. Prosocial value dimension. Prosocial values reflect priorities of expanding community access to and appreciation for art. Market value dimension. Market values prioritize a commitment to customer satisfaction. Achievement value dimension. Achievement values prioritize striving for publicly recognized excellence. Financial value dimension. Financial values emphasize ensuring the financial stability and security of the organization. Most organizations have a constellation of values, with some values dominating (Gioia et al. 2000;Voss et al. 2000). As long as the identity of the organization – however complex the set of core values and beliefs – is commonly held and understood, it is still singular and congruent. Nonprofit arts organizations often grapple with mission–market tensions. The need to remain financially sustainable can often force decisions that are at odds with those that would further mission fulfillment. For arts managers, these tensions influence the choice of what to produce or exhibit as well as what prices to charge, which communities to serve, and which funding initiatives to pursue. Mission creep, or the pursuit of activities outside the scope of an organization’s mission, is not an uncommon occurrence. For example, there is great temptation to respond to a funder’s giving interests even when those interests create new initiatives and programs for the organization that are not mission-related. As an arts manager, is it in the organization’s best interest to refuse the gift or to accept the gift and then take the organization out of alignment? Should organizational identity be malleable and morph depending on shortterm market interests? We argue that a strong mission is one that attracts and engages a sufficient level of resources, whether ticket buyers, talent, or donors – no creep and no inconsistency between words and actions. If the mission is not compelling, the organization cannot be sustainable. The Nonprofit Finance Fund’s Clara Miller (2001: 3) offers that a key to organizational health and sustainability is the “iron triangle” of balance between organizational mission, organizational capacity, and capital structure. A change in any one of these elements has inextricable consequences for the others. Allowing an organization to become imbalanced can wreak havoc on long-term stability. Arts organizations pursue nonpecuniary goals that are supported by a diverse set of external stakeholders, including individuals who purchase admission, local, state, and federal government agencies, corporate and family foundations, corporations and individual donors, and other community members who “can affect or are affected by the achievement of the organization’s 82

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objectives” (Freeman 1984: 46). These ongoing relationships with external stakeholders allow arts organizations the freedom to enact their values and pursue their mission, but the multiplicity of relationships also can create tensions between the organization’s intrinsic values and the disparate values and demands of the external constituencies. Managing these tensions may require that firms either compromise their own values in an attempt to satisfy all external constituents or that they focus on developing and maintaining successful relationships with those external stakeholders that possess congruent values. Where there is a sharing of values, there is a flow of resources. Voss, Cable, and Voss (2000) examined the link between the organizational values of theatres and how those values shaped the level of financial resources that firms obtain from their relationships with different external constituents. They found that distinct patterns of support followed distinct types of values. Specifically, they found that: (1) prosocial values led to higher revenue from government sources; (2) artistic values led to a higher level of revenue from royalties; (3) financial values resulted in higher support from foundations and corporations; (4) market values resulted in higher revenue from ticket sales; and (5) achievement values led to higher revenue from all sources – i.e. higher revenue (Voss et al. 2000). Other research has found that nonprofits that grow to be very large – i.e. with budgets of over $50 million – have in common that they receive the bulk of their support from a single type of funder, such as government or individuals, rather than by pursuing diverse sources of funding (Foster and Fine 2007). Considering these two studies’ findings together would indicate that organizations with a clear and compelling identity become expert in attracting resources from a particular external stakeholder group that shares the organization’s values. When an organization’s identity lacks clarity, what is the impact? Much of the organizational identity research recognizes the fact that multiple identities exist in most organizations, either in the form of complementary (i.e. holographic) or competing (i.e. ideographic) identities (Albert and Whetten 1985; Ashforth and Mael 1989; Foreman and Whetten 2002; Pratt and Foreman 2000). In a study of nonprofit professional theatres in the USA, Voss, Cable, and Voss (2006) explored whether organizational performance is positively or negatively related to identity disagreement between two leaders – the managing director and marketing director. They found that leaders’ disagreement about organizational identity was related to lower ticket revenues and lower net income, and that organizational performance was lowest when disagreement about identity was extreme. Leader disagreement about identity can make identification difficult for the people who work closely with these top decision-makers. This can have the effect of decreasing members’ sense of meaning and belonging at work, creating confusion over conflicting priorities, and engendering mistrust due to misaligned communications about the organization (Ashforth and Mael 1989; Golden-Biddle and Rao 1997; Scott and Lane 2000). Leaders are forced to manage difficult trade-offs as disagreements about identity result in competition for firms’ scarce resources. Customers and funders may sense a lack of integrity in the leadership team and may not be confident about what they can expect from different parts of the organization, resulting in lower trust perceptions (Cheney and Christensen 2001). For relational exchanges to be successful, they require internal agreement about core values, priorities, and messages in order to integrate communications whenever interacting with stakeholders (Gronstedt and Thorson 1996; Gronstedt 2000). The consequences of poor internal identity management and lack of alignment between mission and strategy are clear. However, there also are implications for lack of consistency between organizational identity and the identity projected to stakeholders external to the firm.These key

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constructs – organizational identity and projected identity – reflect the classic distinction one finds in research on individual identity between private perceptions of “who am I” and the presentation of myself to others (c.f. Albert and Whetten 1985). Is it strategically better to project the organization’s true identity and promote the mission in word and deed, or is it smarter to project an identity that the organization believes others want to see – particularly others with resources? We stated above that where there is a sharing of values there is a flow of resources. Shared values also are an antecedent to both commitment and trust, which are essential to relationship formation (Morgan and Hunt 1994). Numerous researchers (Berry 1996; Sirdeshmukh et al. 2002; Urban et al. 2000) have confirmed the fact that confidence is essential to successful relationship marketing. Confidence results from the fact that one exchange partner believes the other to be trustworthy and possessing a high level of integrity and credibility. This raises the following questions: If confidence has resulted from a set of organizational values that do not reflect the truth, what would be the impact of this manipulation on relational development? What would happen if you found that your partner in a relational exchange was not who you thought they were? Is the appearance of integrity sufficient, or is there a violation of trust when organizational identity and projected identity are intentionally defined differently? The relationship marketing literature would indicate that rifts between organizational identity and projected identity would inhibit relationship formation. Even if an organization projects an inauthentic identity to acquire transactional customers or one-time donors in the short term, long-term market success would be inhibited by having multiple identities out on the marketplace, making differentiation difficult if not impossible.

Organizational image and branding Organizational identity is the cornerstone of differentiation (Ackerman 2000; Elsbach and Bhattacharya 2001; Elsbach and Kramer 1996) and a source of sustainable competitive advantage that is unique and inimitable (Ackerman 2000; Barney 1991; Fiol 1991; Pratt and Foreman 2000). Ideally, this unambiguous identity is projected to consumers, forming the image, thoughts, feelings, and views that the organization wants consumers to have. Concurrently, consumers form their own perceptions about the organization’s identity, a composite of their image, thoughts, feelings, and views about the organization. Congruity between these two positions – the organization’s self-definition of “who we are” and customer perceptions of the organization’s identity – is the clear goal for authentic and successful organizational identity. How these two potentially disparate positions come together can play a major role in organizational success. When there is a wide gap between these two critical views of an organization, the organization will struggle either to meet its own expectations or the expectations of its key stakeholders. Organizational image (1) can be sharply stamped across an institution from its inception, (2) can evolve over time, or (3) can be completely redefined or clarified by a precipitating event. Examples of identity being clearly defined at the outset include Sydney Opera House and the Guggenheim Museum (New York and Bilbao), where the innovative architecture defined the institutions, irrespective of the art within, leadership personalities, or consumer experiences. Another instance of this first type of organizational identity is eponymous dance companies: Alvin Ailey, Martha Graham, Merce Cunningham, Paul Taylor, and Pina Bausch, to name just a few. The identity of these companies is 100 percent about the artistic director/choreographer. An example of a brand that evolved over time in the performing arts world is The Public Theatre,

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an entity that started out small and scrappy, but has earned its exalted brand position after 50 years of presenting free Shakespeare in the Park in New York City for millions of theatergoers. Brands that have been significantly redefined and elevated recently in the arts world are the LA Philharmonic, newly under the baton of Gustavo Dudamel, and now performing in the recently opened Disney Hall, and the Tate, whose Tate Modern building effectively repositioned an established British cultural institution over the past decade. In all of these examples, an arts-savvy consumer can easily conjure the “brand” and identity of the named organization, and there is congruity between the image the consumer has of the organization’s identity and that professed and projected by the institution itself. Managing organizational messaging is fundamental to keeping brand identity on track. It is critical that all key stakeholders, from the highest level of the organizational ranks to the lowest, understand the organization’s mission and can convey it easily and clearly to outsiders. Listening to external stakeholders about their perceptions is also critical to organizational identity. It either confirms alignment with the message put forward by the organization, shows signs of misalignment which need to be addressed by stronger messaging and clarity of mission, or gives the organization insights into public perceptions that could alter how the organization wants to position itself. In an era of social media and mass opportunities for consumers to make their views known, organizations have concrete information about how their brands are perceived and can find validation for the strength of their brand or can take action to correct course. Visual interpretation of identity is referred to as brand design. Developing a consistent look and feel for an organization across all channels (online, print advertising, broadcast advertising, signage, direct mail, merchandising) and across all internal programs and departments is important for establishing a clear brand look. Often, internal departments at larger organizations, or program owners at smaller organizations, put their personal aesthetic preferences above the organization’s brand look, ultimately diminishing the strength of the master brand. It is the master brand that should always dominate, as it provides context and underpinning for all programs within an organization. A strong example of visual brand identity is BAM (Brooklyn Academy of Music) in the performing arts and MoMA (Museum of Modern Art, New York) in the visual arts. In both instances, a vast variety of programs, exhibits, and personalities are all placed in the context of a strong and clear institutional look that signals to the consumer that the individual product is part of something even bigger and stronger. With changes of focus such as the arrival of a new artistic leader, many organizations change their visual brand. This could be related to a change in mission that is driven by a new visionary leader, or simply by an institutional desire to mark the moment of change in a way that is easily recognizable, even to a casual observer. Signaling change visually, though, must come with strong and clear messaging about core mission and purpose in order to affirm and support all stakeholders’ beliefs about the organization. A change in visual branding without any other institutional change could be confusing to consumers, as could changes in programming without changes in communications materials. There must be alignment between the organization’s work and how it communicates about that work. Often, major orchestras implement visual rebranding with the arrival of a new music director. Recently this was done at both the New York Philharmonic and the Philadelphia Orchestra. One could argue that though the new music directors at both of these institutions bring strong new programing agendas to the podium, the core missions of these orchestras remains clear and fixed: to be classical music pillars of their respective communities. It was incumbent upon the design and language revisions of these two important organizations to convey this brand story.

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Creating a consumer-facing brand story and visual identity follows a clear four-step process both in the arts world and in other for-profit and nonprofit sectors. This process begins with a discovery phase where key internal and external stakeholders of the organization review and share their perceptions of the brand. A review of written and designed materials also occurs at this stage. The second stage of brand work is the ideation phase where clear concise language about the brand story is explored and agreed to by all decision-makers. The next phase is the design phase, where the brand story is explored visually, with the result of a design framework and logo that conveys a meaningful look and feel of the organization.The final phase of a thorough brand process is the implementation phase, where a clear set of business rules around the visual and verbal communication about the organization is determined. An organization’s brand is one of its most important assets. Brand identity is in equal parts an amorphous concept and a visual and verbal representation of what the organization holds most dear. How audiences and funders understand an organization’s brand will in large measure determine interest in and demand for the work the brand represents.

What lies ahead? The balance of supply and demand for the arts in the USA has undergone a dramatic shift.There have been double-digit declines in arts participation in the last decade (National Endowment for the Arts 2009) while the number of arts organizations has grown exponentially (Ragsdale 2009). Competition for audiences and for resources will only become more intense. Rather than look externally and ask, “Why don’t they come any more?” arts organizations must be willing to start by asking themselves, “Who are we, and why should customers care?”

References Ackerman, L. (2000) Identity is Destiny: Leadership and the Roots of Value Creation. San Francisco, CA: Berrett-Koehler Publishers. (A book that argues that the singularly most important thing to get right in business is identity. Identity determines a person or organization’s capacity for success.) Albert, S. and Whetten, D. (1985) “Organizational Identity.” In L. L. Cummings and B. M. Staw (eds) Research in Organizational Behavior. Greenwich, CT: JAI Press, 7, 263–295. Albert, S., Ashforth, B. E., and Dutton, J. E. (2000) “Organizational Identity and Identification: Charting New Waters and Building New Bridges,” Academy of Management Review, 2 (1), 13–17. Ashforth, B. E. and Mael, F. (1989) “Social Identity Theory and the Organization,” Academy of Management Review, 14 (1), 20–39. Barney, J. (1991) “Firm Resources and Sustained Competitive Advantage,” Journal of Management, 17 (1), 99–120. Berry, L. (1996) “Retailers with a Future,” Marketing Management, 5 (Spring), 39–46. Brown, A. D. and Starkey, K. (2000) “Organizational Identity and Learning: A Psychodynamic Perspective,” Academy of Management Review, 25 (1), 102–120. Cheney, G. and Christensen, L.T. (2001) “Organizational Identity: Linkages between Internal and External Communication.” In F. M. Jablin and L.L. Putman (eds) The New Handbook of Organizational Communication. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 231–269. Collins, J. C. and Porras, J. I. (1996) “Building Your Company’s Vision,” Harvard Business Review, 74 (5), 65–77. Elsbach, K. D. and Bhattacharya, C. B. (2001) “Defining Who You Are By What You’re Not: Organizational Disidentification and The National Rifle Association,” Organization Science, 12 (4), 393–413. Elsbach, K. D. and Kramer, R. M. (1996) “Members’ Responses to Organizational Identity Threats: Encountering and Countering the Business Week Rankings,” Administrative Science Quarterly, 41 (3), 442–476. Fiol, C. M. (1991) “Managing Culture as a Competitive Resource: An Identity-Based View of Sustainable Competitive Advantage,” Journal of Management, 17 (1), 191–211.

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Organizational identity and marketing Fisman, R., Khurana, R., and Martensen, E. (2009) “Mission-driven Governance,” Stanford Social Innovation Review, Summer, 36–43. (An examination of how to align your organization’s mission with its activities and why doing so is essential.) Foreman, P. and Whetten, D.A. (2002) “Members’ Identification with Multiple-identity Organizations,” Organization Science, 13 (Nov–Dec), 618–635. Foster, W. and Fine, G. (2007) “How Nonprofits Get Really Big,” Stanford Social Innovation Review, 5 (2), 46–55. Freeman, R.E. (1984) Strategic Management: A Stakeholder Approach. Boston, MA: Pitman. Gioia, D. A., Schultz, M., and Corley, K. G. (2000) “Organizational Identity, Image, and Adaptive Instability,” Academy of Management Review, 25 (1), 63–81. Glynn, M. A. (2000) “When Cymbals Become Symbols: Conflict over Organizational Identity within a Symphony Orchestra,” Organization Science, 11 (3), 286–298. Golden-Biddle, K. and Rao, H. (1997) “Breaches in the Boardroom: Organizational Identity and Conflicts of Commitment in a Nonprofit Organization,” Organization Science, 8 (6), 593–611. Gronstedt, A. (2000) The Customer Century: Lessons from World-Class Companies in Integrated Marketing and Communication. New York: Routledge. Gronstedt, A. and Thorson, E. (1996) “Five Approaches to Organize an Integrated Marketing Communications Agency,” Journal of Advertising Research, 36 (2), 48–58. Miller, C. (2001) Linking Mission and Money. New York: Nonprofit Finance Fund. (A new way to think about the importance of balancing mission with organizational capacity and a stable capital structure.) Morgan, R. M. and Hunt, S. D (1994) “The Commitment–Trust Theory of Relationship Marketing,” Journal of Marketing, 59 ( July), 20–38. National Endowment for the Arts (2009) Arts Participation 2008: Highlights from a National Survey. Washington, DC: National Endowment for the Arts. Pratt, M. G. and Foreman, P. O. (2000) “Classifying Managerial Responses to Multiple Organizational Identities,” Academy of Management Review, 25 (1), 18–42. Ragsdale, D. (2009) “Recreating Fine Arts Institutions,” Stanford Social Innovation Review, Fall, 36–41. Sawhill, J. and Williamson, D. (2001) “Measuring What Matters Most in Nonprofits,” McKinsey Quarterly, 2, 98–107. Scott, S. G. and Lane, V. R. (2000) “A Stakeholder Approach to Organizational Identity,” Academy of Management Review, 25 (1), 43–62. Sirdeshmukh, D., Singh, J., and Sabol, B. (2002) “Consumer Trust, Value, and Loyalty in Relational Exchanges,” Journal of Marketing, 66 (1), 15–37. Urban, G. L., Sultan, F., and Qualls, W. J. (2000) “Placing Trust at the Center of Your Internet Strategy,” Sloan Management Review, 42 (Fall), 39–49. Voss, G. B., Cable, D. M., and Voss, Z. G. (2000) “Linking Organizational Values to Relationships with External Constituents: A Study of Nonprofit Professional Theatres,” Organization Science, 11 (3), 330– 347. (An article that identifies the categories of core values underlying mission statements in theaters and links them empirically to revenue from various stakeholders.) Voss, Z. G., Cable, D.M., and Voss, G. B. (2006) “Organizational Identity and Firm Performance: What Happens When Leaders Disagree about ‘Who We Are’?,” Organization Science, 17 (6), 741–755. (An article that explores whether internal disagreement about identity is good or bad for performance and then empirically tests the organizational implications of disagreement.)

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9 MISSION STATEMENT TO MISSION FULFILMENT The role marketing plays Marcus Morgan

Introduction Archibald MacLeish once observed: ‘The arts are always in trouble. It is their nature to be in trouble’ (MacLeish 1961: 23). In the late 1980s, nonprofit arts marketing practices had undergone radical professionalization (Boorsma 2006; Kotler and Scheff 1997). Consequently, nonprofit arts organizations (NPAO) achieved for the first time significant growth in audience attendance from greater publicized exhibition extravaganzas compared with the NPAO landscape of the 1960s and 1970s (Boorsma 2006). However, notwithstanding this new-found affluence of grander audience participation; the ability to produce more elaborate productions; larger management staff – including this new creature called the ‘marketing and development manager’; in many cases new performance facilities; and the willingness of governments to become more than just silent subsidizers and become ‘corporate partners’ (Boorsma 2002, 2006) – NPAOs today face new audience distractions of the twenty-first century (Blanford 2012) with multimedia, social networking, and improved accessibility to various art forms. Nonprofit arts organizations must refine their skills and improve how to better meet the needs of everchanging audience segments and contributors, whilst addressing the merits of marketing programmes, mission fulfilment and artistic integrity. As NPAOs struggle to adapt to a new market economy post the global financial crisis (GFC), with further reduction in government subsidies to the performing arts, NPAOs are seeking new ways to increase audience ticket sales, and find new opportunities for contributed support. To realize this new challenge, which also includes new ways to supplement their earned income, NPAOs need to learn new marketing methods to attract financial and material resources both needed to sustain their mission, money and artistic heritage. Finally, NPAOs need to identify new marketing programmes with which potential ‘arts consumers’ see value in the exchange of money for artistic performance. Against this background, the research this chapter explores is: What role does marketing play in nonprofit arts organizations to ensure that they fulfil their artistic mission? The content of this chapter is part of a larger study on mission fulfilment and NPAO governance. This chapter provides a discussion on the merits of the current contribution of marketing 88

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philosophies to mission fulfilment. The chapter is divided into four sections: (1) defining the mission; (2) understanding the merit of customer value; (3) delivering the merit of the marketing message; and (4) towards securing mission fulfilment through arts marketing. Throughout there is reference to the empirical and normative literature; examples of NPAOs’ mission statements, and innovative approaches to audience building while maintaining artistic integrity; and finally the chapter presents two illustrations, the first depicting characteristics of an effective NPAO to mission fulfilment, and the second showing the customer exchange relationship between mission statement and mission fulfilment.

Defining the mission Drucker (1993: 9) stated: ‘the mission of an organization comprises its purpose and the results it wants to achieve’. Fundamentally, NPAOs combine characteristics of a community-based social welfare charity with those of a private repertoire arts organization. In particular, NPAOs are required to address their chosen artistic mission while breaking-even in budgetary terms (Herman and Renz 2000, 2004). Consequently, NPAOs are often defined as having a double bottom line, that is both financial and programme achievement from which their performance is evaluated (Bell-Rose 2004; Mejón et al. 2004; Young and Aranson 2010). The concept of double bottom line is misleading (Adizes 1972; Drucker 1974; Young and Aranson 2010). Authors such as Kaplan and Norton (1992) and Kanter and Summers (1987) contend that the fulfilment of the organization’s mission is the bottom line and financial success is seen as a proxy for mission fulfilment. Thus in this framework, NPAOs can be regarded as producing two kinds of fulfilment: (1) those that fulfil the organization’s artistic integrity and help sustain the organization’s artistic heritage, and (2) those that directly impact its mission statement. If nonprofit arts boards (NPAB) aim to maximize mission fulfilment while sustaining fiscal prosperity, their challenge is to find the right balance of marketing strategies with these two kinds of mission fulfilment. In establishing what contributes to effective mission fulfilment by an NPAO, Figure 9.1 illustrates four interlocking characteristics: the first, a clearly articulated mission statement. The second, a strong leadership group that understands the organization’s artistic heritage that motivates the whole organization to fulfil the mission. The third, an engaged and inspired volunteer board that provides linkage between the organization and the community. Lastly, an ongoing capacity to attract sufficient financial support, material contribution, and human and artistic resources to fulfil the mission. Figure 9.1 illustrates the four elements of an effective nonprofit arts organization (NPAO). An effective mission statement is a critical part to contributing to an effective board (Soutar et al. 1997; Stauber 2001; Taylor et al. 1991; Tomooka 2005). Drucker (1974) argues that a clearly articulated mission is crucial in building a robust and vigorous nonprofit organization. The importance of mission, as Drucker (1974) further states, focuses the organization on accomplishment, it defines the specific strategies needed to accomplish the crucial goals. It creates a disciplined board. A strong and focused mission statement can prevent most common deteriorating functionalities of boards trying to maintain financial survival – functionalities such as a splintering effect of a board’s inability to make ‘collective objective judgements’ on artistic growth and merit, balanced with the understanding of the organization’s mission statement and prudent financial judgement. Finally, strong leadership, accountability, performance, and results orientation, begin with the organization’s mission. The most challenging questions NPAB members can ask themselves are (a) What is the organization’s mission? (b) What does the organization’s mission mean to me? and (c) Are we as a board fulfilling it? These three questions sound simple and easy to answer by any NPAB

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A clearly articulated mission statement

An engaged and inspired volunteer board that provides linkage between the organization and the community

Characteristics of effective NPAO

A strong leadership group that understands the organization’s artistic heritage that motivates the whole organization to the fulfilment of the mission

An ongoing capacity to attract sufficient financial support, material contribution, and human and artistic resources to the fulfilment of the mission

Figure 9.1 Four characteristics of an effective NPAO to mission fulfilment

member. However, these three challenging questions are the most difficult to answer ‘honestly’, simply because board members will have different perspectives of (a) what the organization is about,(b) what the organization should be about, and (c) what they should be doing to fulfil the mission. The perplexing problem is that members often see artistic productions or exhibitions as being the mission of the organization. This disconnect between what the ‘mission actually is’, and what ‘individuals think it is’ identifies an underlying need by NPABs to address the ‘desires’ and ‘fulfilments’ the organization wants to deliver. Because the interrelationship between the arts consumer and the NPAO mission is connected by the persuasiveness of the marketing campaign, the facilitation and stimulation of artistic responses should be seen as one of the primary objectives of arts marketing. The questions then arise whether and how the NPAB balances its obligation to the organization’s mission and its desire to optimize customer satisfaction. Solely focusing on and satisfying arts customers and competing within a broad and ever-widening entertainment spectrum are ways of increasing audience patronage and revenue, but do not necessarily ensure the board’s fulfilment of the mission. Furthermore, the arts marketing promise not to compromise the organization’s artistic integrity (mission) does not go far enough. This promise must be replaced by the obligation of the board and all those who are guardians of the mission to contribute to the fulfilment of the mission (Boorsma 2002; Soutar et al. 1997). 90

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Thus, defining the mission is prudent to establish the NPAO’s purpose. In other words, to understand the artistic motivation as determined by the organization’s founding members (Adizes 1972; Krug and Weinberg 2004; Kushner and Poole 1996; Schuster 1985, 1997). By understanding its past, NPAB members, staff members, artists and volunteers will pursue their actions and responsibilities as guardians of the organization’s mission and its future. Thereby, this reflective view of what the organization’s mission is has implications for the perception of artistic value. As Schaeffer (1998) emphasized, ‘in today’s world the relationship between artsmarketing and reception cannot any longer be ignored or considered extrinsic to the core of the art as art’. Schaeffer’s (1998) observation emphasizes the importance of the experience of art as pursuant to customer satisfaction as a desired market response; it enables the NPAO to endure and build up assets required to continue and to provide artistic performances in which its audiences see the value in the exchange of money for the intrinsic art experience. Kotler and Scheff (1997) suggested that for NPAOs, in defining their mission, it is useful to establish their scope based on three dimensions. The dimensions are: Consumer groups where an NPAO identifies who is to be served and satisfied. A nonprofit arts organization’s consumers embrace all the parties that it intends to serve, including the artistic director, the performers and the various audience segments (Kotler and Scheff 1997). Consumer needs where an NPAO identifies what is to be satisfied. Thus, what is the goal of the NPAO – inspire, or educate the audience and entertain – and the challenge of the NPAO is how to achieve each goal depending on the tastes and levels of sophistication of the audience patrons (Kotler and Scheff 1997). Technologies where an NPAO considers how consumer needs are to be met. For example, an urban street festival may be fashioned to entertain a community audience in the context of a casual atmosphere (Kotler and Scheff 1997). Although Kotler and Scheff’s (1997) three dimensions are over 15 years old, they are still relevant to the NPAB’s guardianship of the organization’s mission (Blanford 2012; Boorsma 2006; Tomooka 2005). By an NPAO endeavouring to fulfil a mission that is feasible, motivating and distinctive, it looks to be financially viable, and customers are satisfied with the mission accomplished (Boorsma 2006; Kaplan and Norton 1992; Kotler and Scheff 1997; Young and Aranson 2010). Kotler and Scheff (1997) define feasibility as the mission being realistic in terms of financial viability, artistic relevance to the NPAO’s consumer, so that the NPAO avoids ‘mission impossible’ productions. The mission should be motivating, meaning that the NPAO’s artistic legacy is still exciting, inspiring and provides a sense of commitment from board members, staff, volunteers, artists and supporters, who feel they are worthwhile contributors to the mission (Kotler and Scheff 1997; Kushner and Poole 1996). By cultivating a distinctive mission, it nurtures loyalty from its stakeholders, supporters and loyal patrons (Herman and Renz 2004; Kotler and Scheff 1997; Krug and Weinberg 2004). The NPAO’s mission statement expresses the organization’s artistic heritage and is more about where the organization has come from, rather than where it is going. As the mission statement of one of Australia’s oldest repertory theatres states: ‘Our mission is to produce and present exhilarating theatre that is alive to the present, extends and inspires artists, and invigorates the hearts and minds of audiences.’ This NPAO began its life in the early 1920s, making it one of the oldest, continuously operating theatre companies in Australia. In the 1970s, it changed its name and opened in an outer city suburb where it remained until 2004, when it moved to an inner city location. It continues to this day holding a key position in Australia’s professional

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theatre landscape. Its mission statement has not changed over its 92 years and it concisely describes what the NPAO does, whom it serves, and what it aims to accomplish. The statement in essence is broad enough that it has not been changed over its lifespan, yet it is specific enough to provide clear objectives and guide artistic direction and programming. The vibrant sustainability and artistic integrity of NPAOs are reflected in the management of the organization’s mission (Krug and Weinberg 2004; Mottner and Ford 2003; Young and Aranson 2010), which means that NPABs should not make judgments or undertake activities such as marketing programmes that are not informed by, or inspired by, the organization’s mission. The mission statement is reflective of two areas of NPAOs: the first, the competencies of the board, its focused obligations to various stakeholders and to the community at large. Therefore, each member of the organization both paid and unpaid must comprehend, support, and be able to articulate the organization’s mission (Kotler and Scheff 1997; Schuster 1997). The board uses the authority of the mission to bring people together and direct their energies towards a common artistic purpose. As Kotler and Scheff (1997) accurately observed, if an NPAO dedicates an inconsistent amount of its funds and resources to activities or artistic ventures that don’t support the organization’s mission, then the NPAO is supporting only the organization itself and not the reason for its being as created by the NPAO’s founding members. The second area, concentrating on the NPAO’s core competencies, means that boards, staff, artists and volunteers focus on ‘doing what the NPAO knows best and doing it well’.

Understanding the merit of customer value There is a general consensus on how to optimize the consumer market response to create customer values that are of merit and grander than the values offered by competitors (Boorsma 2006; Soutar et al. 1997; Wyszomirski 2002). Furthermore, there is a need to continuously explore new ways to satisfy the customers’ needs (Adizes 1972; Kotler and Kotler 1998). This perspective has become known as the customer-value orientation (Boorsma 2006) – however, from a nonprofit arts organizational perspective, it has limitations. Pursuing customer value and satisfaction by providing grander productions or exhibitions that appeared to be superior to competitors applies only to the nonprofit arts if there is no compromise to the NPAO’s artistic mission (Boorsma 2006; Kotler and Kotler 1998; Soutar et al. 1997). If the consumer regards the artistic experience as a treasured, substantial customer benefit, then this could be an initial point for implementing the consumer-value approach as a means of optimizing the artistic exchange (Boorsma 2006). As a consequence, nonprofit arts marketing programmes need to focus on the artistic merit and mission integrity as core to customer value (Boorsma 2006). Nonprofit arts organizations often present art that challenges the cognitive, perceptual and emotional senses simultaneously as the artistic experience is characterized by the full engagement of these emotional capacities and goes far beyond the experience of desire in the narrow sense (Goldman 2001). Hence, the merit of the NPAO artistic value is a rewarding experience that consumers receive in return for their efforts in accessing the arts experience. Thus the value is not created for the customer, but created in cooperation with the customer (Boorsma 2006; Goldman 2001). The artistic product does not exist to fulfil a market need – instead of seeking to meet consumers’ needs by offering them a product they desire, the NPAO seeks consumers who are attracted to the production or exhibition they produce (Colbert 2003). With this observation by Colbert (2003), artistic creation and arts marketing are defined as two independent tasks, each maintaining their ‘space’ and ‘accountabilities’. Hence, the primary aim of arts marketing should be to optimize the final stage of the arts process to support and inspire consumers

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to complete the work of art. Thereby, the arts consumer plays a vital role in the final stage of the arts process. In relations between the art process and consumer value, new meanings are fashioned in different forms that cannot be expressed by institutionalized categories. The arts offered by NPAOs provide consumers with new views and possibilities, new ways of expression, and new meanings of viewing what was old (Colbert 2003; Kotler and Scheff 1997). Optimization of the consumer’s role in the arts process should be the main aim of arts marketing. In many situations, especially where NPAOs are government subsidized, this includes optimizing the function of the specific work of art in society (Soutar et al. 1997). Furthermore, it is significant to restate this objective in operational terms that can serve as assessable marketing goals. This implies the formation of concrete goal statements, not in relation to the kind and the number of consumers to be reached, but in relation to the kind of response that is expected from consumers and the community (Boorsma 2006; Schuster 1995). In practice, NPAOs rely comprehensively upon institutionalized and influential marketing literature (Bussell and Forbes 2006; Kotler and Scheff 1997). As Bruce (1995) stated, the role of arts marketing is to gain and retain customers. In any case, this appears to be true for marketing practices common for subsidized NPAOs (Rentschler and Geursen 2004). The value of nonprofit arts marketing is largely judged according to audience numbers (which in turn means revenue generated) and customer satisfaction (or the perceived value judged by the customer). Both audience numbers and customer satisfaction are compared with numbers and audience survey feedbacks, based on the NPAO’s previous performance (Rentschler 1999, 2004). Thus, there is a plausible preoccupation by NPAOs with the needs and wants of frequent customers (Boorsma 2006). Retaining frequent customers can be the main driver of marketing activities. Frequent customers ensure that demand is continuous and brings in large audience numbers and satisfied customers who see the value in the exchange of monies for familiar artistic performances. Since marketing literature tells us that 20 per cent of customers provide 80 per cent of the revenue (Kotler and Kotler 1998; Kotler and Scheff 1997), frequent customers are seen as vital to the NPAO’s survival and longevity. Nonetheless, does this narrow view strangle optimizing the art process and the merit of future customer value? This notion of the ignored new customer experience, compared with prior customer expectations, is important – the remaining 80 per cent is vital to the NPAO’s artistic integrity and mission fulfilment. New consumers communicate their new experiences – word of mouth will have a positive effect. Consequently, obsession with frequent arts consumers and lack of attention to the other 80 per cent of the customer base has to be given consideration. The fulfilment of the artistic mission of NPAOs may be obstructed if marketing initiatives do not connect with new and occasional customers, thereby generating a natural flow (Boorsma 2002) of new audience members.

Delivering the merit of the marketing message What are some of the reservations about marketing strategies to fulfilling the NPAO’s artistic mission? The first reservation is that marketing strategies can diminish the heritage and integrity of the NPAO’s artistry history, community connection and staff and artist professionalism, which lie at the core of the NPAO’s mission. Nonprofit arts organizations are centrepieces in which the community usually places its trust; thus transforming NPAOs such as contemporary arts galleries and museums into sheer entertainment destinations lessens them so that they are no different from entertainment venues such as family fun parks and penny arcades, depriving them of their primary community base and artistic heritage purpose. The minute NPAOs lose their

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unique artistic mission, they compete in the marketplace with other forms of entertainment, whose capital is more substantial. Contending as viable entertainment options does not provide NPAOs with a level playing field; on the contrary, NPAOs will have to compete with real and virtual entertainment products, and possibly be perceived as mediocre in comparison. The second reservation is that NPAOs are idiosyncratic organizations, as they focus on their artistic heritage such as live performance, performance dance, children’s museums and arts galleries. Commercial arts organizations usually consist of multiple artistic endeavours and numerous revenue streams. For example, Pixar not only makes multi-billion dollar movies, it also generates revenues from the soundtracks, toys and other by-products from those movies. The third reservation is that emphasizing themselves as alternative entertainment destinations removes NPAOs from the few remaining varieties of family, arts, cultural and learning recreational activities. What is needed to counter these reservations about the influences of nonprofit arts organizational marketing? Marketing influences elevate public tastes and interests for which NPAOs are uniquely suited. Further there is a resurgence of community and family appreciation for the range of new twenty-first century artistry experiences that NPAOs are offering outside routines of everyday life. For example the Perth Institute of Contemporary Arts (PICA), Western Australia, is an icon of contemporary arts sophistication – it puts on innovative and ground-breaking arts and cultural experiences for individuals and families. Not constrained by convention, this NPAO gives artists and audiences a glimpse of what is possible. The aim of PICA is to promote, support and present contemporary arts and to stimulate critical discussion around the arts and broader cultural issues. This innovative Australian NPAO has created a ‘mission fulfilment-centred mindset’, which requires those involved in the marketing of the organization’s artistic endeavours systematically to study consumers’ needs and wants, as well as their preferences and levels of satisfaction, and respond to this information by developing a new and improved range of artistry. By understanding ‘value in the exchange of money for artistic performance’, an optimal approach to marketing the arts is defined within the merit that is the NPAO’s mission. This basic principle of fashioning artistic performance value for the exchange of customers’ money shows that fashioning value for consumers attracts customers’ support. In other words, non-commercial artists and NPAOs need an audience and audience building, and loyalty remains one of the main tasks of arts marketing. It then arises how to generate a ‘mission fulfilment-centred mindset’ at the board level of NPAOs that leads not to marketing the artwork itself nor the artist themselves – but instead apply the marketing to artistic integrity, price, promotion, and value in exchange for money for artistic performance. Kotler and Scheff (1997) describe marketing as a philosophy, a process, and a set of strategies and tactics for influencing behaviour. Further, the role of nonprofit arts marketing is considered to be one of ultimately supporting the merit of the fulfilment of the NPAO’s mission by increasing attendances and generating funds, but not one that defines the NPAO’s mission (Kotler and Kotler 1998). Figure 9.2 conceptualizes this notion. It visualizes the relationship between mission statement, merits of marketing and the exchange of the arts consumer with the artistic integrity to mission fulfilment. The key concept of Figure 9.2 is that the NPAO creates artistic value of importance for customers that gratifies their needs, thus, in return customers deliver value that contributes to the fulfilment of the NPAO’s mission. As Kotler and Kotler (1998) observed, all organizations that operate in an exchange market of goods and services for the return of money and other tangible materials contribute

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Arts Customers

Mission Statement

Value of Exchange of Money

Merit of Marketing

Mission Fulfilment

Artistic Integrity

Figure 9.2 The customer exchange relationship between mission statement and mission fulfilment

to the economic success and survival of the organization. NPAOs are empowered to build resources required that underpin ability to contribute to the fulfilment of the organization’s mission.

Towards securing mission fulfilment through arts marketing There was a time when suggesting using marketing techniques to promote artistic performance was scorned upon by the artists themselves, and the majority of NPAO stakeholders. It was not until the later part of the twentieth century that an arts marketing philosophy and the use of marketing methods were seen as an acceptable and important part of a nonprofit arts organization’s strategy and mission fulfilment (Bussell and Forbes 2006; Colbert 2003; Kanter and Summers 1987; Kushner and Poole 1996). In the arts, nonprofit arts boards, artistic directors and the like, and even artists themselves have become aware of marketing not only as a management tool (Rentschler 2002; Rentschler and Geursen 2004; Soutar et al. 1997), but as a way to add value to the artistic performance. As Holbrook (1980) noted, the consumer’s attitude to art is self-motivated or self-justified – meaning that the anticipation and excitement of the aesthetic experience interacts with the final stage of the arts process. This chapter asked: What role does marketing play in nonprofit arts organizations to ensure that they fulfil their artistic mission? Marketing philosophy for nonprofit arts has matured from its original concepts of the 1980s and 1990s. For example, one of the main influences of nonprofit arts marketing was that it eliminated the belief that for arts marketing to be effective NPAOs had to produce products aimed at fulfilling the needs and wishes of consumers. Arts marketing in the twenty-first century is no longer seen as solely fulfilling the desires and wants of the market (Blanford 2012; Boorsma 2006). Marketing techniques are now concerned with how the transaction between the artistic process, stimuli and artistic journey is valued by the arts customer. The maturity of arts marketing concepts has cleared the way for NPAOs to market their artistry with integrity, not compromise their artistic mission (Mottner and Ford 2003; Tomooka 2005).

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Therefore, nonprofit arts marketing for the twenty-first century should facilitate the co-creation of customer value, artistic integrity and mission fulfilment. As Vargo and Lusch (2004) articulated, NPAOs should adopt an approach of arts consumer involvement in the value creation as the core of customer value, and they outlined four areas that arts marketing programmes should pursue to secure an NPAO’s artistic mission and artistic integrity. These four areas reinforce the relationship between marketing and the NPAO’s mission fulfilment. The four areas are: The arts consumer is a co-creator in the total art process, but not a co-designer of the artistry: meaning that the arts consumer should not be actively involved before the artistic creation has developed its form. After that, however, the arts consumer’s role becomes crucial. Arts consumers play a central role as co-producers in the final stage of the art process by giving meaning to the artefact by means of their imaginative powers – independently of existing concepts and external interests. As such, the art consumer completes the work of art. Arts marketing should aim to support and facilitate the artistic experience as the core customer value: meaning that it is important for nonprofit arts marketing programmes to focus on the co-creation of the artistic experience as the core customer value. This does not imply that the other benefits of art consumption should be neglected, or even denied. Arts marketing activities, for example, can engender social or educational benefits as well, as long as they do not compromise the co-creation of artistic experiences. The selection of arts consumers should be driven by artistic objectives: meaning that the mixture of valuable customers comes down to the selection of an optimal mixture of competent, arts-committed consumers and non-specialist consumers. To select and reach new and occasional customers, NPAOs should start with a change of their marketing communiqué activities. Arts organizations should investigate the decision-making behaviour of these consumers so that they can provide them with meaningful information. In addition, word-of-mouth processes should be promoted not only because of the fact that a satisfied consumer is a good way of convincing others, but also to enable a smooth process of disseminating new metaphors. Performance measurement should focus on the contribution to artistic objectives: meaning that concerns for financial performance and the generation of funds form a crucial part of good organizational governance. However, it is also evident that focusing exclusively on revenue, attendance numbers and efficiency may impede the NPAO’s mission fulfilment. Arts marketing programmes should accept responsibility for optimizing the co-creative role of arts consumers. This implies that the arts consumers’ experiences – especially artistic experiences, but also experiences with the supporting services – should form the basis for performance measurement and the development of reward systems. Finally, the chapter recognizes that NPAOs’ marketing programmes pursue artistic objectives to fulfil the organizational mission, other than simply to maximize profit. NPAOs used marketing programmes to increase revenue, to improve self-reliance of the organization, and provide artistic integrity with an opportunity to be valued by arts consumers. NPAOs do not define the organization, but describe its context. Therefore, within the context of marketing, for the NPAO money and customer value of its product are as important (Adizes 1972; Boorsma 2002, 2006; Bussell and Forbes 2006; Young and Aranson 2010) as the co-created experience.

References Adizes, I. (1972). Boards of Directors in the Performing Arts: A Managerial Analysis. California Management Review, 25(2), 109–116. Bell-Rose, S. (2004). Using Performance Metrics to Assess Impact. In S. M. Oster, C. W. Massarsky and S. Beinhacker (eds) Generating and Sustaining Nonprofit Earned Income. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass.

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Mission statement to mission fulfilment Blanford, R. (2012). Make No Little Plans: The Modern Wing of the Arts Institute of Chicago. International Journal of Arts Management, 14(2), 57–65. Boorsma, M. (2002). Arts Marketing and the Societal Functioning of the Arts: The Case of the Subsidised Dramatic Arts in the Netherlands. International Journal of Cultural Policy, 8(1), 65–74. Boorsma, M. (2006). A Strategic Logic for Arts Marketing Integrating Customer Value and Artistic Objectives. International Journal of Cultural Policy, 12(1), 73–87. Bruce, I. (1995). Do Not-For-Profits Value Their Customers and Their Needs? International Marketing Review, 12(4), 77–84. Bussell, H. and Forbes, D. (2006). Friends Schemes in Arts Marketing: Developing Relationships in British Provincial Theatres. International Journal of Arts Management, Winter, (8), 38–48. Colbert, F. (2003). Entrepreneurship and Leadership in Marketing the Arts. International Journal of Arts Management, 6(1), 30–39. Drucker, P. (1974). Management: Tasks, Responsibilities, Practices. New York: Harper Collins. Drucker, P. (1993). The Five Most Important Questions You Will Ever Ask about Your Nonprofit Organizations. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Goldman, A. (2001). The Aesthetic. In B. G. D. M. Lopes (ed.) The Routledge Companion to Aesthetics (pp. 181–192). London: Routledge. Herman, R. and Renz, D. (2000). Board Practices of Especially Effective and Less Effective Local Nonprofit Organizations. American Review of Public Administration, 30(2), 146–160. Herman, R. and Renz, D. (2004). Doing Things Right: Effectiveness in Local Nonprofit Organizations, A Panel Study. Public Administration Review, 64(6), 694–702. Holbrook, M. (1980). Some Preliminary Notes on Research in Consumer Aesthetics. Advances in Consumer Research, 7, 104–108. Kanter, R. and Summers, D. (1987). Doing Well While Doing Good: Dilemmas of Performance Measurement in Nonprofit Organizations and the Need for a Multiple-Constituency Approach. In W. Powell (ed.) The Nonprofit Sector: A Research Handbook. New Haven, CT: Yale University. Kaplan, R. and Norton, D. (1992). The Balanced Scorecard-Measure That Drives Performance. Harvard Business Review, January–February, 71–79. Kotler, N. and Kotler, P. (1998). Museum Strategy: and Marketing: Designing Missions. Building Audiences, Generating Revenue and Resources. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Kotler, P., and Scheff, J. (1997). Standing Room Only: Strategies for Marketing the Performing Arts. Boston, MA: Harvard Business School Press. Krug, K. and Weinberg, C. (2004). Mission, Money, and Merit: Strategic Decision Making by Nonprofit Managers. Nonprofit Management and Leadership, 14(3), 325–341. Kushner, R. and Poole, P. (1996). Exploring Structure–Effectiveness Relationships in Nonprofit Arts Organizations. Nonprofit Management and Leadership, 7, 119–136. MacLeish, A. (1961). Ars Poetica Poems: Wadsworth Handbook and Anthology. Ed. C. F. Main and Peter J. Seng. Belmont, CA: Wadsworth. Mejón, J., Fransi, E. and Johansson, A. (2004). Marketing Management in Cultural Organizations: A Case Study of Catalan Museums. International Journal of Arts Management, 6(2), 11–21. Mottner, S. and Ford, J. (2003). Measuring Nonprofit Marketing Strategy Performance: The Case of Museum Stores. Journal of Business Research, 58, 829–840. Rentschler, R. (1999). Director’s Roles and Creativity in Nonprofit Art Museums in Australia and New Zealand. Unpublished Doctoral Thesis, Monash, Melbourne. Rentschler, R. (2002). Museum and Performance Arts Marketing: The Age of Discovery. Journal of Arts Management, Law and Society, 32(1), 7–14. Rentschler, R. (2004). Four by Two Theory of Nonprofit Museum Governance. [Research conducted on arts organizations museum – governance.] Museological Review, (11), 30–42. Rentschler, R. and Geursen, G. (2004). Entrepreneurship, Marketing and Leadership in Nonprofit Performing Arts Organizations. Journal of Research in Marketing and Entrepreneurship, 6(1), 1–10. Schaeffer, J. (1998). Experiencing Artworks. In Symposium under the direction of J. Schaeffer, Think Art: Theory and Practice in the Art of Today (pp. 39–53). Rotterdam: Witte de With Centre for Contemporary Art. Schuster, J. (1985). The Interrelationships between Public and Private Funding of the Arts in the United States. Journal of Arts Management and Law, 14(4), 77–105.

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Schuster, J. (1995). The Public Interest in the Art Museum’s Public. In S. Pearce (ed.) Art in Museums. New Research in Museum Studies (Vol. 5). London: Athlone Press. Schuster, J. (1997). The Performance of Performance Indicators in the Arts. Nonprofit Management and Leadership, 7(3), 253–269. Soutar, G., Hough, D., Turner, J., Seares, R. and Close, H. (1997). Marketing the Arts: A Study of Marketing and Audience Development by Australian Arts Organizations. Redfern, NSW: Australia Council for the Arts. Stauber, K. (2001). Mission-Driven Philanthropy: What Do We Want to Accomplish and How Do We Do It? Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Quarterly, 30(2), 393–399. Taylor, B., Chait, R. and Holland, T. (1991). Trustee Motivation and Board Effectiveness. Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Quarterly, 20, 207–224. Tomooka, K. (2005). An Overview: French Cultural Policy Enters Pivotal Era. Tokyo: Japan Foundation. Vargo, S. and Lusch, R. (2004). Evolving to a New Dominant Logic for Marketing. Journal of Marketing, 64(1), 67–84. Wyszomirski, M. (2002). Arts and Culture. In L. M. Salamon (ed.) The State of Nonprofit America (pp. 187– 218). Washington, DC: Brookings Institution Press. Young, D. and Aranson, T. (2010). Mission–Market Tensions and Nonprofit Pricing. American Review of Public Administration, 40(2), 153–169.

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10 TRADITIONAL VS. ENTREPRENEURIAL MARKETING OF ARTS/CULTURE Theresa A. Kirchner and John B. Ford

Introduction Arts/culture organizations have traditionally faced unique economic challenges typified by scarce resources and fierce competition. Nonprofit arts organizations, in particular, must contend with volatile environments, limited resources, and intense competition, not only from other arts/culture organizations, but also in much larger arenas, as contenders for consumers’ leisure time and funding from governments/foundations/individuals which support a broad range of nonprofit organizations. This combination of environmental turbulence and competition creates an atmosphere of risk, uncertainty, and apprehension among arts organizations and their stakeholders, including their patrons, and it forces managers to take risks, make quicker decisions, and attempt total makeovers and reinventions to stand out in a confusing marketplace. As a result, managers need to seek out and leverage unique marketing techniques, offerings, processes in order to survive and succeed. More than ever, in environmentally turbulent times, firms should consider incorporating entrepreneurial marketing options into their traditional marketing approaches in order to remain competitive. Doing so can offer real potential for better-than-traditional success, rather than simply maintenance of the status quo or declining success, although arts organization managers must realize that it also comes with increased risk. This chapter explores dimensions of traditional marketing and entrepreneurial marketing which are important for arts organizations. As outlined in the chapter heuristic depicted in Figure 10.1, it also examines environmental factors which have a particular impact on the arts sector and may influence the organization’s choice of traditional and/or entrepreneurial marketing choices: competition, environmental turbulence, and risk/intervention dilemmas. Finally, it considers, as outlined in Figure 10.1, concepts related to entrepreneurial marketing: creative marketing, emotional marketing, organizational entrepreneurship, disruptive marketing, creative destruction, and blue ocean strategy, which may be leveraged to mitigate environmental threats and improve an arts organization’s economic and artistic health.

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Traditional marketing in the arts sector Traditional marketing of arts organizations has focused on the 4Ps of the marketing mix (Product, Price, Place, and Promotion) as formally conceptualized by McCarthy (1960) and Borden (1964). Arts organizations certainly can be classified as services organizations, and as such, the 7Ps of the extended marketing mix (the 4Ps plus People, Process, and Physical Evidence) apply, as proposed by Booms and Bitner (1981). Another extension of traditional marketing is the more recent emphasis on the service provider’s relationship with, and service to, the customer/consumer, which was formalized into the concept of Customer Relationship Management in the 1990s. Many arts organizations, especially smaller ones, do not have formal marketing programs. Those which do normally approach marketing in an organized way and tend to do so from a 4Ps (Product, Price, Place, and Promotion) perspective, concentrating, for example, on providing a “product” rather than a service, the pricing and venue of that product, and advertising/public relations/sales (promotion). It is also interesting to note that a review of both arts marketing textbooks and consulting organizations shows little emphasis on the marketing mix, and that when the Ps of marketing are mentioned, they are specified as the 4Ps, or 5Ps (with People added to the mix, rather than the 7Ps of the services marketing mix.) This omission of the Ps of Process (methods by arts organizations to provide and deliver their products and services) and Physical Evidence (including the servicescape and atmospherics associated with the products and services) is an opportunity missed for arts marketers, since both have important impacts on audiences, donors, and stakeholders.

Entrepreneurial marketing in the arts sector On the other hand, there has been a limited but significant examination in the academic literature of entrepreneurial marketing and related concepts as they relate to arts organizations (Fillis Arts Marketing

Environmental Factors: • Competition • Turbulence • Risk/Intervention Dilemmas Traditional Marketing

Entrepreneurial Marketing

Creative Marketing

Emotional Marketing

Organizational Entrepreneurship

Disruptive Marketing

Creative Destruction

Blue Ocean Strategy

Figure 10.1 Heuristic of traditional/entrepreneurial marketing in the context of arts marketing

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2002, 2010; Rentschler 2002; and Fillis and Rentschler 2005, 2006). Entrepreneurial marketing has been defined as “the proactive identification and exploitation of opportunities for acquiring and retaining profitable customers through innovative approaches to risk management, resource leveraging, and value creation” (Morris et al. 2002). From an arts organizational perspective, it is a strategic approach which employs innovative techniques to identify, amass, and retain desired patrons and donors, and stimulate creation of customer-perceived value and loyalty through a variety of novel mechanisms. Entrepreneurial marketing lies at the interface between a market orientation and an entrepreneurial orientation (Slater and Narver 1995) and, as such, it represents a bridge between strategic action and entrepreneurial action as the marketer proactively seeks novel ways to create value for desired customers and build customer equity. The goal for executive directors and marketers of arts organizations is to find new, entrepreneurial approaches which will allow them to effectively reach customers/donors, without the constraints placed on them by adhering only to the “tried and true” tools and techniques. This is particularly important for small arts organizations, which are not often able to operate using the full capabilities of the traditional marketing approach due to its inherent financial constraints. Custom-building an entrepreneurial approach tailored to a particular arts organization can lessen its vulnerability to the high risk often associated with taking a non-traditional approach.

Dimensions of entrepreneurial marketing Three core dimensions of entrepreneurial marketing, as proposed by Miller and Friesen (1983) and Covin and Slevin (1994), are: (1) innovativeness, (2) calculated risk-taking, and (3) proactiveness. Innovativeness involves discerning creative, remarkable, unexpected, and unique alternatives and solutions for addressing issues and opportunities facing arts organizations. An innovative approach often involves unique ideas and involvement of a variety of stakeholders. Calculated risk-taking entails utilizing scarce resources to go after opportunities which have significant potential liability or exposure, while actively mitigating, absorbing, or addressing risks in order to minimize them. A proactive orientation involves an ongoing and concentrated exploration of new ideas, methods, and opportunities that promise to yield competitive advantage. Four additional dimensions of entrepreneurial marketing include: an opportunistic perspective; opportunity focus, resource leveraging; management, customer intensity; focus, and the market orientation of the organization. Entrepreneurial marketing tends to be a matter of degree, and all of these possible dimensions would not necessarily operate simultaneously. By nature, entrepreneurial marketing will manifest itself in a variety of ways as the firm evolves. Research has indicated that it ebbs and flows, and cycles back and forth with the use of traditional marketing over time, as organizations typically do not appear to be able to sustain high levels of entrepreneurism indefinitely (Covin and Slevin 1994; Kotler 2001). Organizations faced with risk and uncertainty may be unwilling to let entrepreneurial approaches continue indefinitely, especially if they do not see immediate results. The need for a judicious combination of traditional and entrepreneurial marketing is particularly vital for arts organizations that may be moving from an ad hoc marketing approach to one that utilizes a variety of traditional and entrepreneurial tools and techniques to achieve its strategic and tactical goals.

Application of entrepreneurial marketing to arts organizations Arts organizations can view entrepreneurial marketing as a link between the organization’s strategic plan and its entrepreneurial actualization of that plan to take advantage of opportunities

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and achieve its goals. Done well, entrepreneurial marketing is a differentiating alternative for the organization which impels it toward new opportunities and optimal results for both it and its key stakeholders, including its customers, audiences, patrons, and donors. Given the inherent creative nature of the arts, entrepreneurial marketing is a natural adjunct to traditional marketing for arts organizations, due to their relatively small size, resource constraints, originality, and ingenuity. Often lacking the financial resources and sophisticated marketing programs of larger corporations, arts organizations have the ability to be truly innovative and game-changing by leveraging their inherent creative resources. It should be noted that not all of the seven dimensions of entrepreneurial marketing could, or should, necessarily operate simultaneously in an arts organization. It should be remembered that entrepreneurial marketing is a matter of degree, and it manifests itself in different ways as organizations evolve through various stages of development. Since arts organizations, in particular, may find it difficult to maintain high levels of entrepreneurial marketing indefinitely, they are likely to cycle back and forth between it and traditional marketing (Covin and Slevin 1994; Kotler 2001). Doing so has risks, for example, the potential for confusing stakeholders and diluting the mission, image, brand, and/or messaging of the organization.

Environmental factors and arts organization marketing Competition Arts organizations face a myriad of competitive forces. As an example, in terms of barriers to entry, the prognosis for a new symphony orchestra or opera in a small to medium-sized community which already has a similar organization is typically bleak. Even in larger cities, a new arts organization must differentiate itself in a significant way to compete with not only existing arts organizations but the much broader spectrums of leisure activities and nonprofit causes that it must vie with for scarce resources, audiences, donors, and visibility. That competition does not end once an arts organization is able to establish itself, build a strong brand reputation, and build a position of financial solvency.

Environmental turbulence All organizations experience, and must react to, environmental turbulence, which is the degree to which the external environment is affected by change, aggression, and complexity. Change is a natural and inevitable phenomenon. At a minimum, it is slow, repetitive, and somewhat predictable. Growing turbulence progresses through expanding, changing, and discontinuous phases, and, at its most intense, develops from the emergence of new products or services which cannot be effectively predicted (Ansoff and McDonnell 1990). The effects of external turbulence on both arts organizations and their stakeholders involve an increase in internal turbulence – uncertainty, apprehension, ambivalence, and distrust of the external environment. As a result, arts managers may feel compelled to make relatively rapid judgments and decisions, which, if faulty, may result in even more internal turbulence. In such times, it is even more important that marketing efforts be well designed, customized, targeted, distinctive, and compelling (Deshpande 1999; Sanchez 1999). The danger here is to automatically change the strategy if things are not working, but the issue may actually be one of cumulative impact where different messages will often create viewer confusion and cognitive dissonance.

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Risk/intervention dilemmas From an opportunity/risk perspective, arts organization managers are also affected by the emergence of fortuitous possibilities and options that involve some level of uncertainty and danger. In such situations, where taking advantage of an opportunity requires assuming risk and intervention, they often vacillate between two potential negative extremes, rather than focusing on achieving an optimal potential positive outcome: (1) “sinking the boat” because of fear of making an incorrect, time-critical decision that could “sink” the organization, and (2) “missing the boat” by ignoring an opportunity or taking too long to take advantage of it. For arts organizations, a well-developed and targeted marketing approach, which combines solid traditional marketing components with the creativity and innovativeness of entrepreneurial marketing, may enable the organization to sail the boat through the waves of risk to the shore of opportunity realized.

Concepts related to entrepreneurial marketing Creative marketing Entrepreneurial marketing involves creativity and is related to the idea of creative marketing. Fillis and Rentschler (2006) define creative marketing as “the process of bringing new approaches and ideas to problem-solving to achieve results in pecuniary and non-pecuniary terms” and visualize the concept as a metaphor that forms the intersection of marketing and creativity. Hills et al. (2010) and Hills and Hultman (2011) view the term slightly differently, characterizing entrepreneurial marketing as the interface between marketing and entrepreneurship. Examples of work on the topic of creative marketing in arts marketing-related literature include Fillis’s (2002) examination of creative marketing in the context of a manifesto for arts marketing, McNichol’s (2005) work on creative marketing strategies in museums, and Rajagopal’s (2011) view of the development and implementation of creative marketing strategy as being analogous to the orchestration of a symphony. To the extent that disruptive marketing is a specific strategic process that involves responding to environmental discontinuities in a creative way in order to achieve market creation, it can be viewed as closely related to the concept of creative marketing.

Emotional marketing The 2013 Creston Limited and ICM Research large-scale research project, which assesses brand enrichment and brand value, found that the most important factor that drives people’s purchase choices is not monetary value; it is the emotional value that brands offer via their products and services. This research indicates that organizations are not just selling their products and services; they are also providing emotional benefits. Six of the eight factors that influence 83 percent of purchase decisions can clearly be classified as emotional, rather than financial. (Of the remaining 17 percent, Material Value impacts only 7 percent of consumer decisions.) Of those eight factors, by far the most important is Pleasure, which drives 23 percent of buying decisions. The other factors and their quantified impacts are: Confidence (17 percent), Status (14 percent), Responsibility (14 percent), Effectiveness (11 percent), Individuality (9 percent), Saving (7 percent), and Sense of Belonging (5 percent). With the possible exception of Effectiveness and Saving, these are emotion-related – and the qualitative data indicate that even those two factors seem to be viewed by the consumer from an emotional enrichment perspective.

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The importance of the findings of this study for arts organizational executives and marketing are two-fold: (1) art, itself, is likely to provide an emotional experience which can attract and satisfy cultural consumers and (2) the findings support other research which has found that while those consumers value the art product which an arts organizations offers, they also clearly value related experiences, such as social gatherings (including receptions, discussion groups, or simply attending events with a friend) or the attractiveness of the venue itself. In fact, they may, in some cases, treasure such ancillary experiences and benefits more than the art itself, for example, enjoying the perceived positive impact on social status from being perceived as an arts aficionado or supporter. The point certainly is that an art gallery has a variety of paintings that it will present to its visitors. No one will love every painting. People will find some paintings that they enjoy and others that they will avoid. It may be seeing certain paintings in the setting of the gallery that may provide, for them, the desired experience. Maybe it is the social gathering to allow them to see a particular painting but enhanced by having a drink among other admirers of certain paintings that gives them the greatest value. Or maybe it is just the social gathering in an eclectic atmosphere that they relish. The point is that this is potentially quite unique for each patron/visitor. And strategically it is imperative for the arts marketer to do the research among their visitors/donors/members to determine the underlying experiential emotional triggers. The implications for arts marketers are clear – they should ensure that they are promoting not only the artistic event itself but also the secondary emotional benefits (a night out, fun, the opportunity to dress up, an afternoon in a beautiful facility, etc.).

Organizational entrepreneurship Building organizational entrepreneurship, based on an internal environment of strategic choice, innovation, and momentum that is consistent with the organization’s financial capability and available resources, is an important step towards entrepreneurial marketing. A “tone from the top” that is one of entrepreneurial proactivity sets the stage for not only effective traditional marketing but also for the much broader scope of marketing as a strategic cycle that begins with product/service design and ends with re-energizing improvements. Arts marketers should promote internal proactiveness, innovativeness, and iterative adaptation/renewal, which contribute to maintaining and increasing the arts organization’s health and success.

Disruptive marketing Disruptive marketing is proposed by Morris et al. (2002) to fall under the umbrella of entrepreneurial marketing. As conceptualized by Dru (1996, 2002, 2007), disruptive marketing affects all facets of the business organization, including the strategic planning/implementation process, operations, and product development, as well as marketing, and is used to identify/develop new markets/products/distribution channels, revamp brands, invent new organizations, and trigger cultural changes. Traditional marketing involves a see–act–launch linear progression (Silberzahn and Cartwright 2007), while disruptive marketing uses a market creation cycle, characterized by innovation, entrepreneurial action, consumer demand/response assessment, and product/service/marketing improvement, which is closely tied to the organization’s strategic planning cycle. As a result, the differentiation between seeing and acting is blurred. With disruptive marketing, the organization “acts to see,” and then reacts to adapt, refine, and improve. Progression

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through the cycle is often not linear but jumps from point to point depending on what is required to optimize the creation/renewal process. Vision is pluralistic, since everyone in the organization plays a part in assessing and reacting to what is a broad, dynamic, and complex marketing process. A disruptive marketing approach requires a high degree of commitment, creativity, responsiveness, and interpersonal and intra-organizational cooperation. While it can achieve significant results (FedEx, Apple, and Adidas, for example, have been cited as successful implementers of disruptive marketing), it can also eventually become draining and difficult to maintain as customer loyalty grows, since long-term customers may not welcome disruption, per se. The point, therefore, is not that arts organizations should be “disruptive” in the literal sense, but that they can benefit from the overall strategic orientation, innovative approach, and responsiveness to customer desires and feedback that characterize the disruptive marketing approach outlined above (Kirchner et al. 2012).

Creative destruction Economic creative destruction can be viewed as an example of continual disruption that occurs in organizations due to competitive, destructive, and entrepreneurial activity (Schumpeter 1950). In a broader sense, organizations that survive those challenges are continually reinventing themselves, as necessary, to stay competitive and attractive in a world in which innovation causes product obsolescence at a historic rate. In the arts sector, traditional arts organizations, products, and services have survived more intactly than those of other sectors, perhaps due to the inherent beauty and appeal of art. However, arts organizations and patrons often view art as something that should be not only performed or displayed, but also reinvented. Historically, creative destruction can be viewed, to a certain degree, at work in classical music as it developed through the Baroque, Classical, Romantic, and Modern periods, and composers who might otherwise have flourished undoubtedly found themselves out of favor or out of work during transitional periods. Sometimes, creative destruction is not purposeful and can have tragic results, but with loss comes renewal, reinvention, and, arguably, innovation and improvement. In the case of the destruction of art in New York’s Chelsea galleries by Hurricane Sandy, creative destruction came at the hands of Mother Nature. While the loss of art that cannot be recreated is disastrous, in the aftermath of the devastation, renewal occurs, as galleries reopen and artists, some of them new and currently unknown, begin to create new works to fill the void. Ideally, creative destruction is designed and desired, since its role is to encourage innovation and growth. In many cases, technology provides, and sometimes drives, opportunities for change and renewal. Opera, for example, was staged in opera houses for hundreds of years. Today, it is available, often live, on satellite radio and television, in movie theatres, in schools, on the Internet, and in a variety of alternative venues. Opera is often reinvented in terms of staging, historical timeframe, and a variety of other purposeful changes that are designed to make it more innovative or meaningful to audiences of today. From a marketing standpoint, the implications for new (and existing!) audiences and donors are being explored, and the results are promising. For arts marketers, the challenges are to be aware of emerging change drivers, anticipate their effects, and to work with executive and artistic directors to leverage them. Anticipating and preparing for unavoidable continuous innovation that affects the arts sector requires the organization to continually reassess its vision and mission, and to make important decisions about how it will position itself, both in the near term and for years to come. 105

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Blue ocean strategy The term “blue ocean strategy” was coined by Kim and Mauborgne (2005) to describe a management/marketing strategy that frees an organization from its competitors and historically constrained market in the “red ocean” (which is characterized by a “business is war” mentality derived from the historical characterization of business as a militaristic organization), to “swim” in a “blue ocean” market of its choice, free from industry competition. Making this strategic sea change requires the organization to purposefully reconstruct its market boundaries, focus on the big picture, set its target market beyond existing demand, and establish an optimal strategic sequence. The key to the strategy is value innovation, which involves the concurrent pursuit of differentiation and cost minimization. A process to accomplish the significant repositioning required to implement a blue ocean strategy, which concentrates on new product development and restructuring of product/service offerings, is suggested by Pitta (2009). For arts marketers, the vision of swimming in a clear blue ocean may be quite attractive, but the strategic nature of the concept requires a strategic reorientation of the organization to achieve that nirvana. This topic has attracted significant attention, but there does not appear to be significant experience with it in arts organizations. Arts marketers may want to explore the concept, since it may be useful in brainstorming entrepreneurial marketing options. One of the difficulties inherent is exploring new options for the sake of new options, which taken in a vacuum without customer feedback and input might have disastrous results. The need here is for the artistic side of the organization to work in conjunction with the fiscal management side to ensure the potential for success in swimming in that uncontested water.

Academic implications/opportunities for future research The opportunity for academic research in the area of entrepreneurial marketing in the arts sector is huge. Very little research has been done on the topic. Notable contributions include the works of Fillis and Rentschler, which are cited in the References below, and the books listed in Further reading. In particular, there is a “blue ocean” of opportunity for academic researchers to engage in both qualitative and quantitative research that examines the concepts in this chapter from an arts marketing perspective.

Managerial implications/conclusion Innovation, creativity, and other concepts related to entrepreneurial marketing have yielded powerful benefits for arts organizations. However, a word of warning is in order. With the implementation of change comes risk, including the potential for a wide range of unintended consequences. Good, detailed planning is imperative, and any major initiative should, of course, be monitored closely to detect and mitigate unforeseen negative results. It is also imperative to have coordination of efforts between the artistic side and the fiscal responsibility side of the organization as there is always the competition that can build leading to internal conflict. On a brighter note, the material presented in this chapter is designed to offer the arts marketer a broad range of ideas which may translate into opportunities that are worth pursuing and implementing. Entrepreneurial marketing begins with thinking outside of the box. For example, is it feasible for you to delight your patrons and donors with concierge services? Arts organizations are experimenting with valet parking, private direct numbers to key staff members, special events that bring artists and patrons/donors together in informal settings, and satisfying 106

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special requests from loyal stakeholders. Sometimes the best ideas come from your fellow organizations, competitors, and for-profit organizations. For a typical arts organization dealing with urgent financial and managerial concerns, there may be little time and few resources to devote to major changes in strategy and tactics. However, as many organizations have proved, the germ of an idea can, if properly leveraged, propel an organization towards success. Arts marketers, by definition, are responsible for creating, communicating, delivering, and exchanging offerings that have value for customers, clients, partners, and society at large (American Marketing Association 2013). This material will, hopefully, furnish them with ideas and options that will help them to optimize their marketing efforts and results.

Further reading Bernstein, J.S. (2007) Arts Marketing Insights: The Dynamics of Building and Retaining Performing Arts Audiences, San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. (A comprehensive guide to arts marketing, from fundamental marketing principles to new issues, strategic strategies, and practical techniques for implementing and cultivating customer-centered arts marketing.) Byrnes, W.J. (2008) Management and the Arts (4th edn), Burlington, MA: Focal Press. (A broad and detailed handbook for arts managers which guides them through the planning, marketing, finance, economics, organizational, staffing, and group dynamics aspects of arts organization management.) Kolb, B. (2013) Marketing for Cultural Organisations (2nd edn), Andover, Hampshire: Cengage Learning EMEA. (An up-to-date discussion of practical applications of both traditional and entrepreneurial marketing strategies and techniques in ways that are geared for today’s changing, diverse, tech-oriented arts patrons, and audiences.) Kotler, P. and Scheff, J. (1997) Standing Room Only: Strategies for Marketing the Performing Arts, Boston, MA: Harvard Business School Press. (A classic examination of strategic and tactical marketing of performing arts organizations, applying a broad range of marketing principles and techniques of marketing principles to the arts sector.)

References American Marketing Association (2013) Definition of Marketing, [Online], Available: http://www.marketingpower.com/AboutAMA/Pages/DefinitionofMarketing.aspx [28 Mar 2013]. Ansoff, H.I. and McDonnell, E.J. (1990) Implanting Strategic Management (Vol. 2), New York: Prentice Hall. Booms, B.H. and Bitner, M.J. (1981) “Marketing strategies and organization structures for service firms,” in Donnelly, J.H. and George, W.R. (eds) Marketing of Services, Chicago, IL: American Marketing Association. Borden, N.H. (1964) “The Concept of the Marketing Mix,” Journal of Advertising Research, 4(2), 2–7. Covin, J.G. and Slevin, D.P. (1994) “Corporate Entrepreneurship in High and Low Technology Industries: A Comparison of Strategic Variables, Strategy Patterns and Performance in Global Markets,” Journal of Euro-Marketing, 3(3), 99–127. Creston Unlimited LLC and ICM Research (2013) Brand Enrichment Report: Creating Effective Brand Value, London: Creston Unlimited LLC. Deshpande, R. (1999) “Foreseeing Marketing,” Journal of Marketing, 63(3), 164–167. Dru, J.M. (1996) Disruption, New York: John Wiley. Dru, J.M. (2002) Beyond Disruption, New York: John Wiley. Dru, J.M. (2007) How Disruption Brought Order: The Story of a Winning Strategy in the World of Advertising, New York: John Wiley. Fillis, I. (2002) “Creative Marketing and the Art Organisation: What Can the Artist Offer?” International Journal of Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Marketing, 7(2), 131–145. Fillis, I. (2010) “The Art of the Entrepreneurial Marketer,” Journal of Research in Marketing and Entrepreneurship, 12(2), 87–107. Fillis, I. and Rentschler, R. (2005) “Using Creativity to Achieve an Entrepreneurial Future for Arts Marketing,” International Journal of Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Marketing, 10(4), 275–287. Fillis, I. and Rentschler, R. (2006) Creative Marketing: An Extended Metaphor for Marketing in a New Age, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan.

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Theresa A. Kirchner and John B. Ford Hills, G.E. and Hultman, C.M. (2011) “Academic Roots: The Past and Present of Entrepreneurial Marketing,” Journal of Small Business and Entrepreneurship, 24(1), 1–10. Hills, G.E., Hultman, C.M., Kraus, S., and Schulte, R. (2010) “History, Theory and Evidence of Entrepreneurial Marketing – An Overview,” International Journal of Entrepreneurship and Innovation Management, 11(1), 3–18. Kim, W.C. and Mauborgne, R. (2005) “Blue Ocean Strategy: From Theory to Practice,” California Management Review, 47(3), 105–121. Kirchner, T.A., Ford, J.B., and Mottner, S. (2012) “Disruptive Marketing and Unintended Consequences in the Nonprofit Arts Sector,” Arts Marketing: An International Journal, 2(1), 70–90. Kotler, P. (2001) A Framework for Marketing Management, Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall. McCarthy, J.E. (1960) Basic Marketing. A Managerial Approach, Homewood, IL: Richard D. Irwin. McNichol, T. (2005) “Creative Marketing Strategies in Small Museums: Up Close and Innovative,” International Journal of Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Marketing, 10 (November), 239–247. Miller, D. and P.H. Friesen (1983) “Innovation in Conservative and Entrepreneurial Firms: Two Models of Strategic Momentum,” Strategic Management Journal, 3(1), 1–25. Morris, M.H., Schindehutte, M., and LaForge, R.W. (2002) “Entrepreneurial Marketing: A Construct for Integrating Emerging Entrepreneurship and Marketing Perspectives,” Journal of Marketing Theory and Practice, 10(4), 1–19. Pitta, D. (2009) “Issues in a Down Economy: Blue Oceans and New Product Development,” Journal of Product and Brand Management, 18(4), 292–296. Rajagopal (2011) “The Symphony Paradigm: Strategy for Managing Market Competition,” Journal of Transnational Management, 16(3), 181. Rentschler, R. (2002) The Entrepreneurial Arts Leader: Cultural Policy, Change and Reinvention, St. Lucia: University of Queensland Press. Sanchez, R. (1999) “Modular Architectures in the Marketing Process,” Journal of Marketing, 63(2), 92–111. Schumpeter, J. (1950) Capitalism, Socialism, and Democracy, New York: Harper and Row. Silberzahn, P. and Cartwright, P. (2007) “Acting to See: When Disruptive Times Call for Disruptive Marketing,” in European Business Forum (Vol. 29, pp. 41–45), New York: Harper and Row. Slater, S.F. and Narver, J.C. (1995) “Market Orientation and the Learning Organization,” Journal of Marketing, 59(3): 63–74.

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11 AUDIENCE VALUATION AND PRICING THE PERFORMING ARTS Jennifer Wiggins Johnson

Introduction Arts products are characteristically difficult to value. The aesthetic enjoyment of an arts product is necessarily a personal experience that will be unique to every individual, and the value that is defined by an artist or producer may be different from the value that is perceived by the audience member (Butler 2000). In the performing arts, valuation is complicated by the fact that the performing arts are experience goods, a category of products that cannot be accurately evaluated by the consumer until they are fully consumed (Hoch and Ha 1986; Neelamegham and Jain 1999). For many experience goods, such as a meal in a restaurant, the consumer pays for the product after it has been consumed and evaluated and the consumer has determined that he or she is satisfied with the experience. However, the performing arts face an even bigger challenge in that audience members are asked to pay for the performing arts experience before they consume it. Thus, there is an uncertainty and a risk of dissatisfaction inherent in attending an arts performance (Harrison and Hartley 2007). The challenge for arts managers is that while the performing arts experience is difficult for audience members to value in advance, a price must be set for the performance. Ticket prices are often determined far in advance of the performance date, and once a price is advertised for a particular performance, it is difficult to change it without experiencing a negative response from audience members ( Jones and Yeoman 2009). Thus, there is an inherent risk for the arts manager as well in setting a price for the performing arts experience ( Jones and Yeoman 2009). Traditional approaches to pricing would tell the arts manager to conduct market research to determine the value that potential audience members place on the product before setting the price (Nagle and Holden 1995). However, articulating an economic value for an aesthetic experience can be even more difficult than assessing the value. Such efforts frequently result in responses of “priceless” or similar unhelpful guides for setting hard prices. This chapter will consider the current research on audience valuation of the performing arts in an effort to understand how audience members arrive at the decision to attend a performance and a willingness to pay for the experience. Limitations imposed by audience members’ ability to pay and price sensitivity will be considered as influences on the attendance decision.This will 109

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be linked to pricing strategies in the arts to help determine how arts managers can set prices that will capture and/or communicate value to their audiences. Finally, innovative contemporary pricing strategies for capturing audience valuations will be discussed as a tool for arts managers.

How do audiences value the arts experience? With the difficulties in placing an accurate value on an arts product, it would be beneficial for arts managers to understand how audience members perceive value in the performance experience. Throsby (2001: 19–20) defines value as, “an expression of worth, not just in a static or passive sense but also in a dynamic and active way as a negotiated or transactional phenomenon.” Understanding how consumers place value on products or consumption experiences as part of the transaction process has been a core challenge for marketing scholars and is one of the more difficult aspects of marketing. However, several researchers have put forth theoretical frameworks that can provide a foundation for the study of how audiences value a potential artistic experience. Holbrook (1999) lays out a much-cited typology of consumer value based on three dimensions: whether the value is derived intrinsically from the consumption experience itself or the consumption experience is a means to gain some form of extrinsic value for the consumer, whether the source of the value is derived from the consumer or from other individuals, and whether the consumer derives the value from acting on the object to be consumed or from reacting to a consumption experience. This led Holbrook to identify eight different types of consumer value. Extrinsic value derived from consumption experiences is viewed as having four types.Value through efficiency involves the consumption of an object that enables the consumer to derive value from another object, such as the use of a credit card to purchase desired products or a refrigerator to keep dinner fresh. Value through excellence incorporates the appreciation or satisfaction that comes from consuming a product of superior quality. These more utilitarian aspects of value are often perceived by marketers as prerequisites for more complex or emotional forms of value, as they involve meeting the consumer’s primary needs in consuming the product. Holbrook further identifies two forms of extrinsic value that incorporate social elements. Value through status involves the consumer’s active manipulation of his or her consumption experiences in order to achieve favorable social responses from his or her peers. Esteem is more associated with materialism (Richins and Dawson 1992) and conspicuous consumption (Veblen 1899/1994), and occurs when the individual derives value from the possession of goods that enable him or her to maintain a desirable social image. While consumption of the arts can have utilitarian and social aspects, the types of value derived intrinsically from the consumption experience seem more directly applicable to the consumption of arts performances. Value through play is similar to the concept of flow (Csikszentmihalyi 1975) and involves the pleasure derived from being immersed in an experience. In a more reactive sense, consumers can also derive value through the aesthetic appreciation of beauty of art even if they do not become fully engaged in the experience. Consumers may also pursue value by seeking out consumption experiences that are viewed by others as ethical, virtuous, or moral, or simply seen as the “right thing to do.” Finally, consumers may experience spiritual value through feelings of escape, ecstasy, sacredness, or even magic in the consumption experience. Heilbrun and Gray (2001) take an economic approach to understand consumer demand for the arts, and suggest that arts audiences are motivated to gain the maximum satisfaction or utility

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possible from their consumption experiences while acknowledging the constraints of their entertainment budgets. Audience members seek to allocate their entertainment dollars to the arts experiences that will provide the greatest utility from the experience. Each potential arts performance must therefore be evaluated not only in terms of the satisfaction that it is anticipated to provide for the audience member, but also in comparison to the cost of attending the performance and to the potential satisfaction that could be derived from attending alternative arts performances. Thus, the audience member’s value for the performance is derived from a combination of the audience member’s income or budget, the audience member’s aesthetic taste, and the prices of substitute arts experiences. Throsby (2001) contrasts the economic value perspective laid out by Heilbrun and Gray (2001) with a cultural value perspective that incorporates six types of value: aesthetic value, the beauty, harmony, form and other aesthetic properties of the art; spiritual value, the religious or cultural significance attached to a work of art; social value, art as a social connection with others or with a broader society as a whole; historical value, the ability of art to reflect a particular time and place; symbolic value, the specific meanings conveyed by artwork and extracted by the audience member; and authenticity value, the value of artwork as real, original, and authentic as opposed to a reproduction or duplicate. Several of these dimensions of cultural value overlap with the typology laid out by Holbrook (1999) for general consumer value, but Throsby’s typology also incorporates aspects of value that are somewhat unique to the arts and cultural industries. Several researchers have attempted to empirically capture how audience members find value within the arts consumption experience itself. In a study funded by the John S. and James L. Knight Foundation, researchers at Audience Insight (2002) conducted extensive interviews and surveys of audience members at 15 US orchestras to determine how they value the classical music consumption experience. The findings reveal seven different types of value derived from the experience of listening to classical music, which appear to exist in layers around the concert experience itself. At the core of the experience is the artistic or educational value derived directly from listening to the music. Audience members also report deriving spiritual value from the performance, feeling enlightened or enriched by the experience. In some cases, this even takes the form of a sense of healing or therapeutic value, enabling the audience member to improve their well-being or making it easier to cope with life’s challenges. More extrinsic to the artistic experience of the performance, audience members derive ritual value in the broader experience of attending a concert, including getting dressed up for the event and experiencing the ambience of the concert venue. Audience members also value the opportunity for social interaction provided by concert attendance, including time to socialize, additional experiences like going to a favorite restaurant before or after the concert, and interactions with other patrons of the arts. Some audience members view the concert-going experience as a means to enhance their relationships with the friends and family with whom they attend the concert. Finally, in what the authors deem the most extrinsic source of value, for some audience members the experience of attending the concert serves to mark a special occasion, such as a birthday, an anniversary, or a visit from out-of-town friends. The researchers further find that audience members can be clustered into different segments based on the types of value they seek. Caru and Cova (2005) examined audience members’ experiences at classical music concerts to understand how the feeling of being immersed in the artistic experience contributes to the value of the consumption experiences. The authors identify three processes through which audience members become immersed in a concert experience: nesting, in which the audience

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member finds inroads into the experience by identifying with familiar elements; investigating, in which the audience member uses his or her grounding in the familiar to explore new elements of the experience; and stamping, in which the audience member attributes meaning to the experience. Caru and Cova suggest that these processes can interact as a cycle, as once an artistic experience has had meaning ascribed to it by the audience member, it becomes familiar and a potential point of contact for future experiences. Bourgeon-Renault and colleagues (2006) draw on the experiential consumption framework laid out by Holbrook and Hirschman (1982) to understand how audience members connect emotionally to the artistic experience of a performance. They identified a wide variety of emotional responses to the consumption of arts products, including the pleasure of discovering something new, a sense of freedom or escape from the everyday, a feeling of shared experiences with other arts patrons, and the aesthetic and sensory experiences of consuming the art itself. The authors describe these emotional responses as components of individual and collective engagement with the arts experience, a response that can be facilitated by the strategies of the arts manager. Evident throughout this research, be it theoretical or empirical, is the concept that audience members derive multiple forms of value from the arts consumption experience. Some of these types of value are intrinsic to the arts performance itself, from an aesthetic appreciation for beauty, to a sense of immersion or play, to an emotional response to or a search for meaning in the art itself. However, audience members are also clearly deriving value from some of the more peripheral aspects of the arts consumption experience, including the venue within which the art is performed, the social experience of attending a performance, even the date and time when the performance is held. As complex as this valuation process appears, it is a fundamental reality of arts consumption that the audience member must boil down all of this anticipated value into a simple decision of whether to attend a performance and how much to pay for a ticket. It is therefore necessary to understand how the relationship between value and price influences the audience member’s decision to attend an arts performance.

Value, price, and the decision to attend arts performances While research on consumer value suggests that potential audience members are influenced by both the anticipated value and the price of the performance experience, considerable evidence has been found that arts audiences are insensitive to changes in ticket prices (e.g. Colbert et al. 1998; Felton 1994; Scheff 1999; Werck and Heyndels 2007; Zieba 2009). Ticket prices have not been found to have a significant influence on arts attendance across time (Borgonovi 2004) or on the success of Broadway shows (Reddy et al. 1998), and the price of substitute products has not been found to influence demand for the arts (Werck and Heyndels 2007). When prices have been found to have an effect on the decision to attend, it is a significantly lesser effect than the quality of the arts performance (Herrmann et al. 1999; Toma and Meads 2007), the number of performances available (Toma and Meads 2007), or specific aspects of the performance such as the reputation of the director or having a professional or amateur cast (Willis and Snowball 2009). Peripheral aspects of the performance experience, such as the quality of interactions with staff or the facilities available in the venue, have also been shown to influence arts attendance (Hume 2008). Arts audiences have even been shown to accept higher prices if the pricing strategy is designed such that paying a higher price gives them access to more desirable seats or the opportunity to exchange tickets without an additional fee (Scheff 1999).

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Arts attendance has been shown to be sensitive to audience members’ income (Zieba 2009). In particular, a low-income segment of arts audiences has been identified that is particularly sensitive to prices that are beyond their ability to pay (Colbert et al. 1998; Scheff 1999). However, the commonly made assumption that young people have lower attendance rates because they are sensitive to high ticket prices has been found to be false (Kolb 1997). Rather, Kolb finds that, like their older counterparts, young people make decisions to attend arts performances primarily based on their perceived quality of the arts product and their expectation that the experience will be worthwhile. In addition, arts audiences have been found to be more sensitive to the loss of their time than the outlay of money, suggesting that demand for arts performances may be more sensitive to time constraints than prices (Corning and Levy 2002; Zieba 2009). Thus, as Colbert (2003) points out, assuming that lowering ticket prices will attract more audience members to a performance is likely to be a flawed strategy. McCarthy and Jinnett (2001) suggest that lowering prices is only effective at removing practical barriers to attendance for individuals who are already inclined to attend arts events, and not for changing an individual’s desire to attend. Wiggins (2004) views the appropriate use of price to be as a tool to increase the size of the audience segment that is able to pay for a ticket to the performance, but cautions that arts managers should not assume that changing prices can influence individuals’ motivation to attend arts performances, or even their willingness to pay for a given performance. In fact, if audience members make their attendance decisions based primarily on the anticipated value of the performance experience, arts managers may even have the opportunity to charge higher ticket prices than they might assume, given the insensitivity of most arts audiences to ticket prices.

Pricing strategies in the performing arts With the complexity of assessing economic value in the arts, it is no surprise that pricing strategies in the performing arts are similarly complex.The marketing literature differentiates between two basic pricing models (Nagle and Holden 1995). In the cost-plus model, the company determines the total cost of production, allocates this cost across the units produced, and sets a price that will enable a predetermined profit margin. In the value-based model, the company measures consumers’ willingness to pay for a product, and implements cost-saving procedures to reduce the production cost per unit until it is below the price that consumers are willing to pay. Arts organizations often find themselves caught in the middle of these two models, as the costs of production often far exceed consumers’ willingness to pay. Setting the initial price thus becomes a matter of balancing the costs of production, the consumer’s willingness to pay, and the expected revenue from other sources, such as contributed income or earned income from other productions or performances. The experience goods status of the performing arts implies that potential audience members cannot determine the true value of attending a performance until after they have attended.While some information is available to help audience members evaluate the potential experience, such as critics’ reviews or advance press about the production, purchasing a ticket is always a risk. When making purchase decisions about experience goods, consumers often rely on price as a cue for quality, assuming that a higher price implies a higher quality consumption experience (Brucks and Zeithaml 1991). As such, the ticket price in the performing arts plays a dual role, creating value for the audience member by factoring into the “value for the money” equation and communicating the value of the experience to the audience member prior to the performance.

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The influence of competition on ticket prices occurs mainly through the estimation of audience members’ reference prices. By nature, a performance is a unique experience, fundamentally different from any other performance taking place at that time in that city or in any other city. Consequently, arts managers sometimes set prices using an economic value process, which suggests that the price of a ticket should be the sum of the consumer’s reference price for similar experiences plus an additional differentiation value, the value of the uniqueness of this particular performance (Nagle and Holden 1995). Setting ticket prices in this manner can enable the arts manager to communicate the value of the performance to potential audience members without exceeding the range of reference prices for that particular competitive market. Once the base ticket price has been set, many arts organizations engage in some form of price discrimination, offering different prices to different audience members for mission-driven purposes or to reflect differences in demand or willingness to pay among audience members in a particular market. This strategy can also maximize revenue yield for the organization, providing greater revenue overall than offering only a single price (Huntington 1993) and potentially creating a pricing strategy that optimizes the organization’s revenue across performances (Volpano 2002). One of the most basic forms of price discounting is the volume discount, usually framed as a subscription package. Subscription packages offer additional benefits to the audience member, such as first choice of performances and seat locations or discounted prices, while the organization receives more revenue up front, helping to smooth out the seasonality problems that often plague cash flow for organizations that do not perform year-round (Newman 1977). Arts managers can also use subscription packages in an attempt to balance demand by bundling shows that are predicted to be less popular with high demand shows (Ansari et al. 1996; Venkatesh and Mahajan 1993). However, demand for subscriptions has been steadily decreasing over the past decade, and when they are still purchased, Scheff (1999) finds that price discounts are often considered to be the least important aspect of the subscription package. Many arts organizations also engage in third-degree price discrimination, offering discounted tickets to audience segments that are perceived to be less able to pay, such as senior citizens or college students. These discounts are often an element of a mission-driven program to reach out to historically underserved populations, enable low-income consumers to attend performances, or educate or market to future arts consumers who currently cannot afford the ticket price. The benefits of such programs are often seen in increases in audience diversity, accomplishment of mission-driven initiatives, or even simply increases in attendance. Discounts based on customer segmentation are considered to be an economically inferior method of price discrimination, however, since they rely on assumptions and estimates of willingness and ability to pay (Pigou 1920). The economic solution to this problem is to instead engage in second-degree price discrimination, in which different value packages are offered and audience members are able to selfselect the package that reflects their willingness to pay. Arts organizations attempt this approach by offering different prices for different combinations of days, times, or seat locations that reflect either differences in demand (a Saturday night performance is more desirable than a Wednesday afternoon performance) or differences in the consumption experience (a seat in the seventh row will have a better view and better acoustics than a seat in the thirtieth row). By creating packages that reflect these differences in value and offering them at different prices, audience members can self-select the value option that is right for them. However, in light of the findings on how audience members place value on the performance experience, one can question whether these bundles based on dates, times, and seat locations are

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truly capturing perceived differences in value. In a study designed to value the different attributes of a theater seat, Brown (2005) used a value-based conjoint analysis experiment conducted in a theater whose seats had different physical attributes to test the effects of seat width, leg room, proximity to the stage, angle to the stage, and proximity to the aisle. Surprisingly, only a small percentage of the variance in the values assigned to the seats was explained by the attributes of the seat.The majority of the variance explained was driven by the proximity to the stage with a small premium attached to seats directly on the aisle. This suggests that while seat attributes are easily noticeable differences that can help audience members to make sense of differences in prices, the true value placed on the attributes of the seats is quite low. On the other hand, evidence has shown that audience members are quite sensitive to time, suggesting that while this approach may not capture the primary sources of value for the artistic experience, being able to access that experience at the desired day and time may be valuable enough for audience members to pay more. To attempt to capture audience members’ value for the artistic experience more directly, arts organizations do offer different prices for different productions in response to predicted differences in consumer demand. However, this can be even more challenging, since the factors that create differences in value between shows, such as quality, popularity, and reputation, are more difficult to measure and quantify than attributes of the performance time or seat location (Lévy-Garboua and Montmarquette 1996; Urrutiaguer 2002). Demand for tickets is also largely influenced by critical and audience member responses to the show once it has opened (Reddy et al. 1998), which can turn an unknown show into an unexpected hit or a much-anticipated potential blockbuster into a box office failure. There will always be risk in attempting to predict audience value for the arts.

Contemporary strategies for matching price to value Mitigating this risk has become the focus of several more innovative pricing strategies. These approaches range from the technologically sophisticated to the very simple, but they share a common goal: to more closely match ticket prices to audience members’ perceived value. With the advances in database technology and customer relationship management software, some arts organizations are responding to differences in consumer demand by using a peak-load pricing model, in which the overall pricing schedule is shifted upward for shows that are expected to have higher demand and downward for shows that are expected to have lower demand (Borenstein and Rose 1994). This is particularly useful in the weeks leading up to the opening of a new production or during a production that has a long run schedule. By tracking ticket purchases over time, the model is able to anticipate future sales and adjust the price up for highly popular performances and down for performances that are predicted to have lower sales. This type of model should optimize the revenue that the organization is able to yield by matching prices as closely as possible to audience demand (Volpano 2002). At the other extreme of technology, organizations are opting to place the price decision completely in the hands of the audience member by employing a pay-what-you-want strategy. In this approach, audience members are invited to choose any price to pay for the performance, with the assumption that the price each audience member chooses will be based on his or her ability and willingness to pay (Kim et al. 2009). Some arts organizations have concerns that this strategy may result in prices that are too low for the performance to be sustainable and attempt to influence audience members’ chosen prices through the use of minimum prices or suggested prices. However, Johnson and Cui (2013) show that these efforts frequently reduce the average price paid and result in lower overall revenue for the organization.

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Research has also shown that the framing of the message used to communicate the strategy can also have an influence on audience members’ chosen prices, with some framings leading audience members to think about the choice of price in a more altruistic manner, and others leading to a more fair or equitable analysis of the true value of the ticket (Cui and Johnson 2013). Collectively, this research suggests that when audience members are given the freedom to pay any price, they tend to pay a price that reflects their value for the performance.

The challenge of pricing the performing arts Even with all of the theoretical perspectives, empirical findings, and pricing strategies available to arts managers, setting prices remains one of the most challenging aspects of marketing the performing arts. Techniques for measuring consumer value and demand continually become more sophisticated, but few are able to capture the intrinsic value of experiencing the arts. Audience members are consistently insensitive to prices, yet they view their experiences at least in part through an assessment of value for the money. Given the nature of arts products, it is unlikely that arts managers will ever have a clear, easy solution to this problem. However, successful managers will continue to try to understand audience valuation of the arts, to perceive their prices as ways to both create value for their audiences and communicate value to their audiences, and to find new and better ways to communicate to potential audience members why their performances and arts experiences are worth the price.

Further reading Bourgeon-Renault, D., Urbain, C., Petr, C., Le Gall-Ely, M., and Gombault, A. (2006) “An Experiential Approach to the Consumption Value of Arts and Culture: The Case of Museums and Monuments,” International Journal of Arts Management 9(1), 35–47. (This paper presents a summary of current theories on value and analyzes visitors’ responses to the experience of attending a museum exhibit to determine how they value the experience.) Caru, A. and Cova, B. (2005) “The Impact of Service Elements on the Artistic Experience: The Case of Classical Music Concerts,” International Journal of Arts Management 7(2), 39–54. (This paper presents an in-depth analysis of audience members’ engagement with the concert-going experience and how they derive value from the experience.) Holbrook, M. B. (1999) Consumer Value: A Framework for Analysis and Research, London: Routledge. (This book provides a detailed view of consumer value including perspectives from multiple leading researchers in the marketing field.) Nagle, T. T. and Holden, R. K. (1995) The Strategy and Tactics of Pricing: A Guide to Profitable Decision Making, Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall. (This book is a complete guide to pricing strategies and has many recommendations that are applicable to the performing arts industry.) Wiggins, J. (2004) “Motivation, Ability and Opportunity to Participate: A Reconceptualization of the RAND Model of Audience Development,” International Journal of Arts Management 7(1), 22–33. (This paper lays out a model of audience development based on potential audience members’ motivation, ability, and opportunity to attend, and lays out guidelines for the appropriate use of pricing as an audience development tool.)

References Ansari, A., Siddarth, S., and Weinberg, C. B. (1996) “Pricing a Bundle of Products or Services: The Case of Nonprofits,” Journal of Marketing Research 33, 86–93. Audience Insight (2002) Classical Music Consumer Segmentation Study: How Americans Relate to Classical Music and Their Local Orchestras, www.audienceinsight.com. Borenstein, S. and Rose, N. L. (1994) “Competition and Price Dispersion in the U.S. Airline Industry,” Journal of Political Economy 102, 653–683.

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Audience valuation and pricing Borgonovi, F. (2004) “Performing Arts Attendance: An Economic Approach,” Applied Economics 36, 1871–1885. Bourgeon-Renault, D., Urbain, C., Petr, C., Le Gall-Ely, M., and Gombault, A. (2006) “An Experiential Approach to the Consumption Value of Arts and Culture: The Case of Museums and Monuments,” International Journal of Arts Management 9(1), 35–47. Brown, A. (2005) “2005 Ticket Pricing Study: Final Report,” obtained from Wolf Brown, www.wolfbrown. com. Brucks, M. and Zeithaml, V. A. (1991) Price and Brand Name as Indicators of Quality Dimensions, Cambridge, MA: Marketing Science Institute. Butler, P. (2000) “By Popular Demand: Marketing the Arts,” Journal of Marketing Management 16, 343–364. Caru, A. and Cova, B. (2005) “The Impact of Service Elements on the Artistic Experience: The Case of Classical Music Concerts,” International Journal of Arts Management 7(2), 39–54. Colbert, F. (2003) “Entrepreneurship and Leadership in Marketing the Arts,” International Journal of Arts Management 6(1), 30–39. Colbert, F., Beauregard, C., and Vallée, L. (1998) “The Importance of Ticket Prices for Theatre Patrons,” International Journal of Arts Management 1(1), 8–15. Corning, J. and Levy, A. (2002) “Demand for Live Theater with Market Segmentation and Seasonality,” Journal of Cultural Economics 26, 217–235. Csikszentmihalyi, Mihaly (1975) Beyond Boredom and Anxiety, San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Cui, A. P. and Johnson, J. W. (2013) “Messages, Mindsets and Chosen Prices: Framing Effects in PayWhat-You-Want Pricing,” working paper. Felton, M. V. (1994) “Evidence of the Existence of the Cost Disease in the Performing Arts,” Journal of Cultural Economics 18, 301–312. Harrison, P. and Hartley, N. (2007) “The Case of ‘Difficult’ Brands,” Journal of Product and Brand Management 16(4), 286–287. Heilbrun, J. and Gray, C. M. (2001) The Economics of Art and Culture, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Herrmann, A., Franken, B., Huber, F., Ohlwein, M., and Schellhase, R. (1999) “The Conjoint Analysis as an Instrument for Marketing Controlling: Taking a Public Theatre as an Example,” International Journal of Arts Management 1(3), 59–69. Hoch, S. J. and Ha, Y. W. (1986) “Consumer Learning: Advertising and the Ambiguity of Product Experience,” Journal of Consumer Research 13, 221–233. Holbrook, M. B. (1999) Consumer Value: A Framework for Analysis and Research, London: Routledge. Holbrook, M. B. and Hirschman, E. C. (1982) “The Experiential Aspects of Consumption: Consumer Fantasies, Feelings and Fun,” Journal of Consumer Research 9, 132–140. Hume, M. (2008) “Developing a Conceptual Model for Repurchase Intention in the Performing Arts: The Roles of Emotion, Core Service and Service Delivery,” International Journal of Arts Management 10(2), 40–55. Huntington, P. A. (1993) “Ticket Pricing Policy and Box Office Revenue,” Journal of Cultural Economics 17(1), 71–87. Johnson, J. W. and Cui, A. P. (2013) “To Influence or Not to Influence: External Reference Price Strategies in Pay-What-You-Want Pricing,” Journal of Business Research 66(2), 275–281. Jones, S. L. and Yeoman, J. C. (2009) “The Promoter’s Role in Ticket Pricing: Implications of Real Options for Optimal Posted Prices and Rationing,” Journal of Business Research 62, 1187–1192. Kim, J. Y., Natter, M., and Spann, M. (2009) “Pay What You Want: A New Participative Pricing Mechanism,” Journal of Marketing 73, 44–58. Kolb, B. M. (1997) “Pricing as the Key to Attracting Students to the Performing Arts,” Journal of Cultural Economics 21, 139–146. Lévy-Garboua, L. and Montmarquette, C. (1996) “A Microeconometric Study of Theatre Demand,” Journal of Cultural Economics 20, 25–50. McCarthy, K. F. and Jinnett, K. (2001) A New Framework for Building Participation in the Arts, Santa Monica, CA: RAND Corporation. Nagle, T. T. and Holden, R. K. (1995) The Strategy and Tactics of Pricing: A Guide to Profitable Decision Making, Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall. Neelamegham, R. and Jain, D. (1999) “Consumer Choice Process for Experience Goods: An Econometric Model and Analysis,” Journal of Marketing Research 36, 373–387. Newman, D. (1977) Subscribe Now! Building Arts Audiences through Dynamic Subscription Promotion, New York: Theatre Communications Group.

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Jennifer Wiggins Johnson Pigou, A. C. (1920) Collected Economic Writings, London: Macmillan Press. Reddy, S. K., Swaminathan, V., and Motley, C. M. (1998) “Exploring the Determinants of Broadway Show Success,” Journal of Marketing Research 35, 370–383. Richins, M. and Dawson, S. (1992) “A Consumer Values Orientation for Materialism and its Measurement: Scale Development and Validation,” Journal of Consumer Research 19(3), 303–316. Scheff , J. (1999) “Factors Influencing Subscription and Single-Ticket Purchases at Performing Arts Organizations,” International Journal of Arts Management 1(2), 16–27. Throsby, D. (2001) Economics and Culture, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Toma, M. and Meads, H. (2007) “Recent Evidence on the Determinants of Concert Attendance for MidSize Symphonies,” Journal of Economics and Finance 31(3), 412–421. Urrutiaguer, D. (2002) “Quality Judgements and Demand for French Public Theatre,” Journal of Cultural Economics 22, 185–202. Veblen, T. (1899/1994) The Theory of the Leisure Class, New York: Penguin. Venkatesh, R. and Mahajan, V. (1993) “A Probabilistic Approach to Pricing a Bundle of Products or Services,” Journal of Marketing Research 30, 494–508. Volpano, L. J. (2002) “A Proposal to Rationalise Entertainment Ticket Pricing Using Price Discrimination,” Journal of Revenue and Pricing Management 1(4), 379–382. Werck, K. and Heyndels, B. (2007) “Programmatic Choices and the Demand for Theatre: The Case of Flemish Theatres,” Journal of Cultural Economics 31, 25–41. Wiggins, J. (2004) “Motivation, Ability and Opportunity to Participate: A Reconceptualization of the RAND Model of Audience Development,” International Journal of Arts Management 7(1), 22–33. Willis, K. G. and Snowball, J. D. (2009) “Investigating How the Attributes of Live Theatre Productions Influence Consumption Choices Using Conjoint Analysis: The Example of the National Arts Festival, South Africa,” Journal of Cultural Economics 33, 167–183. Zieba, M. (2009) “Full-Income and Price Elasticities of Demand for German Public Theatre,” Journal of Cultural Economics 33, 85–108.

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12 INTERACTIONS BETWEEN, AND EFFECTS OF, GOVERNMENT SUPPORT ON FUNDRAISING AND MARKETING EFFORTS OF NONPROFIT ARTS ORGANIZATIONS Patricia Nold Hughes and William A. Luksetich

Introduction Direct government subsidies for arts and cultural institutions, while historically common in Europe, are a relatively recent phenomenon in the United States. The first direct arts subsidies in the United States began as part of the New Deal in 1933–34 with the Public Works Arts Project. In 1935 several projects also began under the Works Progress Administration. Between 1944 and 1962, Federal arts funding was very ad hoc. President Kennedy took the first step to institutionalizing federal arts policy in 1962 with the appointment of a Special Consultant to the President for the Arts, culminating in the establishment of the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA) in 1965 under the presidency of Lyndon Johnson (Brooks 2004). The NEA was established to promote the “high cultural” performing arts (symphony orchestras, art museums and opera and ballet companies, primarily). It was assumed that individuals and society would benefit from the arts, but that the private market would not provide adequate funding. Governments at all levels in the USA also indirectly provide support for the arts and cultural institutions through various tax exemptions and subsidies. The indirect subsidies include the property tax exemption, reduced sales tax on purchases, postal subsidies, tax exempt bonds, corporate property tax exemption, tax deductibility of charitable donations from personal income taxes, and tax deductibility of charitable donations from estate taxes. This indirect support is in the form of foregone tax collections, whose aggregate value far surpasses the amount of direct government support. The importance of these foregone tax collections becomes painfully obvious as local governments are grappling with budget shortfalls and nonprofit institutions are instituting payments in lieu of taxes (PILOT). This chapter considers the impact of government support on nonprofit and donor behavior, with implications for fundraising and marketing efforts. The major issues associated with direct 119

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support focus on donor response and nonprofit mission. Indirect support, particularly tax deductibility of charitable donations from personal income taxes and estate taxes, is most concerned with marketing strategies and fundraising campaigns to induce the highest level of donor participation. The theories of nonprofit behavior and empirical evidence of donor and organization motivation can be used to structure more effective financing options and to better position the organization financially in the face of policy changes.

Crowding-out by government grants A critical issue associated with the effectiveness of direct government funding of nonprofit organizations is the reaction of private donors to the additional support. There are concerns that government funding will crowd-out private donations as individuals perceive less need for private support, thereby lessening the impact of the grant. There is also the possibility that government grants may increase private donations, by providing prestige or credibility to the organization or by requiring matching funds. The crowding-out of private donations by government grants is an important element in the financing of nonprofit activity, influencing the preference for using government grants versus subsidies for private donations. The degree of crowd-out depends on the direct reaction of donors to the alternative funding, and the indirect reaction of donors based on the response of the nonprofit. The direct reaction of donors is dependent on the substitutability of government funding for donations, the complementarities of government and private funding, the status afforded the organization receiving the grant (signal of quality creating crowd-in), the amount of warm-glow or prestige that is derived from donations, and other factors that arise as a direct response to a change in government support. The indirect crowd-out is a result of the reaction of the nonprofit to a change in government grants that influences donations. Nonprofit responses include the impact of government funding on program output mix, commercial activity, and fundraising efforts. An identification of the scope and source of crowd-out is an important element in both policy design and nonprofit efforts in supporting collective action. Aspects of indirect crowd-out will be discussed in the next two sections. Previous studies, both theoretical and empirical, find various levels of crowd-out depending on model specification, estimation methods, and industry specification. Abrams and Schmitz (1978) test three alternative theoretical models of crowd-out. The ultra-rational case assumes that the individual views government giving as an extension of him or herself, and predicts complete crowd-out. It is the total amount of the combined funding that is important to the donor. The second model assumes interdependent utility functions between the donor and recipient. Government support will lessen the need of the recipient organization, thereby lessening the satisfaction of giving to that organization, resulting in partial crowd-out. The third model is based on the better-to-give-than-receive hypothesis, with the level of giving based on the act of giving, independent of the level of government funding. Assuming that taxes are used to finance the government funding to an organization, a reduction in disposable income will result in minimal crowd-out. Empirical results using a pooled times series of cross-sectional tax return data (Statistics of Income) indicate partial crowd-out, most consistent with the interdependent utility model. Abrams and Schmitz (1984) provide a further test of the interdependence of the utility functions between donor and recipient using cross-sectional itemized tax return data. The significance of recipient need (poverty level) and government transfers again support the interdependence theory.

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In traditional public good models the sole motivation for private donors derives from the consumption of the public good. Cornes and Sandler (1984) model the motivation of a donor to a charitable cause as a combination of both public and private benefits. A public good is defined as being nonrival (the cost of including an additional consumer is zero) and nonexcludable (prohibitively expensive to exclude any one consumer). In the joint production model the donor is additionally affected by the act of giving. Their model of joint consumption applies well to philanthropic activities where charitable donations provide both a private benefit attributable to the act of giving and a private benefit due to the consumption of the public good. When the joint products are “complements,” it is possible that an increase in government support may cause an increase in private support. If an increase in government support combined with a reduction in disposable income (leaving the utility of the individual unchanged) causes an increase in the willingness to support the public good through donations, then the joint products are complements. The model of joint consumption allows that government support may either crowd-out or crowd-in private donations. Adding to the possibilities, Schiff’s (1985) theoretical framework provides for partial crowd-out of private contributions by government expenditures, and also the possibility of crowd-in of private charitable contributions. The response in individual donations to a change in government funding is decomposed into the substitution and the income effects. The substitution effect depends on whether government support and nonprofit activities are substitutes or complements. Schiff’s model is based on government expenditures, which may provide services directly or provide grants to nonprofit organizations to provide services. For direct provision, government may offer competing services to the nonprofit organizations, or they may be offering services in tandem or complementary to the nonprofit organizations. In the case of government grants, if the grant requires specific services not previously offered, it is possible that government funding and private support act as complements. If government grants stimulate entry into the nonprofit sector, this may also be cause for increased private support of the new charities. In addition, the change in government expenditures will have an income effect that may benefit some donors and negatively impact others, further impacting the demand for charity. The impact of government support on private contributions will depend on whether government and private support are viewed as substitutes or complements, and whether the individual is satisfied with the current level of the public good. Government support will unambiguously crowd-out private support only if the two types of support are substitutes and the individual is just satisfied or over-satisfied with the level of support. Empirical results indicate that different types of government expenditures have different impacts on giving (Schiff 1985). In particular, local government spending crowds-out charitable giving while state spending crowds-in charitable giving. The visibility of local government funding may elicit a greater response from the local private funders, whereas many residents are unaware that a state arts agency even exists in their state. Likewise, cash transfers crowd-out private charitable giving while welfare spending stimulates giving, again emphasizing the substitutability versus complementarity of the relationship. Expanding the model to include the interrelationship between various levels of government funding, Steinberg’s (1987) unified model of nonprofit organizational support includes interactions between various levels of government as well as between government and private support. Donors receive both a public and private benefit from donating to charity. Federal government is exogenous, while local government is endogenous due to the fact that local government is comprised of local residents who are also private donors. The sign and magnitude of changes in

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federal support on private donations are ambiguous, depending on whether government and private support are complements or substitutes, and whether the individuals are satisfied with the current level of provision. Including the endogeneity of local government funding in the equation, the most likely outcome of an increase in federal support is partial crowd-out of the combined private and local government support, regardless of the impact on private support. Kingma (1989) considers the problem of crowd-out from the perspective of the substitutability of government funding for private contributions. Measures that use aggregate data measure the substitutability of government for private funds, with charity defined as the aggregate contribution of individuals to social welfare, and government likewise defined as the aggregate measure of social welfare spending by various levels of government. With so much of private giving focused on religious organizations it is highly unlikely that increases in government spending will have a significant impact on the level of private donations. Measures of crowdout, as opposed to substitutability, require industry level data. In the most general model of giving, an individual receives utility from personal consumption and three aspects of the public good: individual contribution, contribution of all others, and government support. The three sources of funding are assumed to be imperfect substitutes for each other. The generality of the model accommodates the most restrictive pure public good specification, to the most general specification that allows for both the level and source of funding influencing individual behavior. Using individual donor data for public radio, his results support the impure public good model of giving, with little differentiation made by the donor between alternative sources of support. Further evidence of the relationship between public and private support is provided by Payne (1998) using panel data from nonprofit shelter, human services, and other similar organizations that links private donations to the nonprofit with the government grants they receive. She takes account of the heterogeneity of services across the organizations, macro shocks, political and economic effects, and potential endogeneity of government funding. If donations and government grants are jointly determined, rather than sequentially determined, then government is endogenous and the single equation ordinary least squares (OLS) estimator for crowdout is biased. In this case two stage least squares (2SLS) will provide a consistent estimator, dependent on finding an instrument that is highly correlated with government grants but not with private donations. Based on 430 nonprofit social service organizations over the period 1982 to 1992, Payne finds no significant crowd-out under the OLS specification, and significant crowd-out ($0.50 per $1.00) under 2SLS. Using data from the performing arts industry, Brooks (2000) and Borgonovi (2006) test for crowding-out using a quadratic model specification. Brooks (2000) considers the possibility of crowd-in due to leveraging at low levels of government funding, and crowd-out of private donations as government support increases. A quadratic specification of private support dependent on government support is estimated using symphony orchestra data, supporting this relationship. He argues that while it is in the long-run interest for organizations to limit their dependence on government grants, the habitual behavior of private donations may result in an excessive reliance on government that is not easily corrected. Borgonovi (2006) hypothesizes that the relationship between the level of private and public support for American theatres follows the quadratic function as described by Brooks. In addition, changes in public support exert a separate influence on private support that is strictly positive (and linear). Disaggregating public support into federal, state, and local, the empirical results indicate that the impact on private support varies by the level of government. Because of the size and allocation procedure, both federal and state experience a crowd-in effect, while local support

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includes both a crowd-out effect based on the level of support, and a positive impact due to increases in funding. While most studies of crowd-out focus on the demand side of the problem, Ferris and West (2003) demonstrate that the observed patterns of giving and government support can also be explained by supply side cost differentials. If the cost of delivering assistance is higher for the public sector than the private sector, then the observation of partial crowd-out can be explained by the difference in the relative cost of delivery. A review of the literature on the dead-weight cost of taxation yields some substantial estimates, upwards of $0.60 per $1.00 of increased tax revenue. While the fundraising costs associated with private donations are nonzero, it is likely that they are substantially less than the dead-weight costs associated with taxation. Given the cost differential, even if government and private charitable support are perfect substitutes from the standpoint of consumption, the cost differential will yield less than perfect crowd-out as government support increases. Based on charitable giving to the “deserving poor” and government spending on human services, the estimated level of crowd-out is less than one. A 10 percent increase in government support is predicted to decrease the level of private support by 5.87 percent. Using a variety of estimation techniques, Smith (2007) tests the crowd-out hypothesis on a balanced panel of nonprofit performing arts organizations. These include Tobit to deal with the truncation of donations at zero, fixed effects to deal with the unmeasurable organizational characteristics, and instrumental variables to correct for the endogeneity of government funding. On average, there is evidence of crowd-in, although the impact varies significantly by the type of organization. The results tend to be very sensitive to the panel construction and estimation technique, but yield little evidence of crowd-out by government funding. The theoretical and empirical models of crowd-out assume that individuals are aware of the level of government funding and react to changes in the level of funding. Horne, Johnson, and Van Slyke (2005) test this assumption using survey questions included in a larger public opinion survey, the Georgia Poll, administered in 2002. The five questions queried respondents about their donations made in the previous year, whether they knew how much the targeted organization was receiving from the government, and how they would react to a change in the level of government support. The results indicated very little knowledge on the part of the donors as to the level of government support. The larger donors did not exhibit greater knowledge than the rest of the respondents, discounting the possibility that even if overall knowledge is low the larger donors, if informed, may be causing the observed crowdout. The results did not wholly refute the assumption of donor knowledge, but did not strongly support it either. Even if donors knew the level of government funding, the respondents indicated that changes in the level of government funding would have very little impact on their donations: 82 percent report no change, 7 percent report positive influence, and 8 percent report negative influence. In addition to the crowd-out literature, there is substantial work on the impact of government grants on nonprofit behavior relating to fundraising, pricing, commercial activity, organizational goals, and output mix. The next section considers the impact of government support on the fundraising efforts of nonprofits.

Government support and fundraising efforts Andreoni and Payne (2003) follow up on the issue of crowd-out by including not only the donor’s response but also the nonprofit’s response to an increase in government grants. They hypothesize that an increase in government grants causes donors to reduce their private contributions and

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additionally causes nonprofits to reduce their fundraising efforts. Considering both the reaction of donors and fundraisers, they hypothesize that an increase in government grants will increase the revenue of nonprofits, but by less than the amount of the grant, i.e. partial crowd-out. Using data from arts and social service organizations, Andreoni and Payne (2003) test the proposition that an increase in government grants will cause nonprofits to reduce their fundraising efforts. The two sectors have a very different financial structure, with the arts organizations relying more heavily on private donations and the social service organizations relying more heavily on government grants. The initial results indicate a positive relationship between government grants and fundraising expenditures. As with Payne’s (1998) analysis, if it is the case that government grants and fundraising are simultaneously determined, or that omitted variables are influencing both fundraising and government grants, the OLS results may be biased. Using 2SLS the results indicate a negative relationship between government grants and fundraising expenditures, significantly larger for the arts organizations than the social service organizations. For arts organizations, an additional $1,000 in government grants decreases fundraising expenditures by $265, on average. For social services, a $1,000 increase in government grants is expected to decrease fundraising by an average of $54. The results support the proposition that government support reduces the level of private support indirectly through reduced fundraising activity. Following up on the influence of fundraising, Andreoni and Payne (2011) decompose the estimate of crowd-out into the classic crowd-out due to donor response and the indirect crowdout due to decreased fundraising. Their results are based on three basic equations: (1) the impact of grants on donations, (2) the impact of fundraising on donations, and (3) the impact of grants on fundraising. All equations use a set of control variables to account for income, population, state political factors, organizational factors, and time varying parameters. To account for the endogeneity of government grants and fundraising, instruments are selected for each based on political tenure and organizational finances, respectively. Based on federal tax returns from 1985 to 2002 for all reporting nonprofit organizations, with some exclusions made due to reporting issues, the results indicate: total crowd-out of $76 per $100 grants, a return on fundraising equal to $5.64 per $1 expense, and a reduction in fundraising of –$0.14 per $1 grants. The decomposition of the $76 of total crowd-out per $100 of government grants amounts to indirect crowd-out of $79 and direct crowd-in of $3. The period of the 1994 mid-term Congressional Republican victory provides Dokko (2009) with a “natural” experiment to measure the impact of an exogenous shock to government arts funding on private donations to arts organizations. The results are based on two equations: (1) the impact of government grants on donations, and (2) the impact of government grants on fundraising. The period in question, 1995–96, supports the notion of changes in government funding as exogenous to the underlying time trends and macroeconomic environment. The micro level data allow for the measurement of true crowd-out of a specific public good. Their construction does not allow for the separate identification of direct and indirect crowd-out, but provides an estimate of the total impact of government funding on donations. The estimate of total crowd-out is approximately $0.60 per $1.00 of government support. The estimate is somewhat larger than in previous studies due to the visibility of the cuts in the period under review. Fundraising is estimated to increase by $0.25 for every $1.00 of government cuts. If the return to fundraising (not estimated) is equal to $2.40 per $1.00 of expenditure, then the total effect of a $1.00 cut in government funding, estimated at $0.60, is due entirely to decreased fundraising efforts. If the return to fundraising is greater than $2.40 per $1.00, then the direct impact of government grants on fundraising would actually be positive, corresponding to crowding-in.

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Hughes, Luksetich, and Rooney (2012) similarly decompose the elements of crowd-out into donor reaction and fundraising efforts using data from the League of American Orchestras’ annual reports from 2004–07. They consider the level of government support and the type of private support in their analysis. Preliminary results indicate a negative response towards fundraising due to an increase in state funding, in a magnitude similar to Andreoni and Payne of approximately $0.16 per $1.00 of support. Increases in federal and local government grants cause fundraising expenditures to increase, contrary to expectations. Depending on the type of private support and the level of government, the estimates indicate both crowding-out and crowdingin of significant proportions. The overall level of crowd-out tends to be dominated by the direct impact on donors, and very sensitive to model specification.

Impact on output, pricing, programming, and mission Driessen (1985) raises some theoretical questions about the crowd-out literature and the corresponding empirical models. His first concern lies with the relationship between government and nonprofit provision described as being either complementary or substitutable. There should be independent proof of the type of relationship or a modeling device that specifically tests for it. Second, the behavior of the nonprofit organization is likely to be influenced by the level of government involvement. Crowd-out models tend to focus on the supply of donors, but rarely model the demand of nonprofits in terms of soliciting donations. In addition to fundraising, nonprofits may take different strategies in terms of non-donated revenues from sales and government grants in terms of programming, product, and service delivery. And finally, the term “crowd-out” has a very negative connotation, implying that government is displacing or forcing out private interests. Private individuals may prefer government funding over private donations for a variety of reasons, including the cost differentials as described by Ferris and West (2003). Combining the elements of fundraising and nonprofit programming into organizational strategy, Rose-Ackerman (1987) focuses on the reaction of nonprofit organizations to an increase in unrestricted government subsidies when nonprofit managers have goals that differ from donors. The model assumes that managers maximize quantity/quality, and that managers prefer a “different” quality from that of donors. In its simplest form, competitors (other nonprofits) do not respond to changes in the production mix of the manager. Nonprofits balance their budget, equating total (gross) revenue from donations with the sum of solicitation and production costs. Rather than selecting the quality level that maximizes net revenue (donations less solicitation costs), managers pursue a higher quality more consistent with their tastes. The mismatch between donor taste and manager offerings can persist if some barrier restricts forprofit competitors from entering with a more preferred quality option. For instance, if nonprofit managers are willing to accept a lower financial return than for-profit managers, the opportunity provided by this mismatch is not lucrative enough to draw entrants. Given this structure, an increase in unrestricted government grants will tend to further the interests of managers over donors. Managers will increase both the quantity and quality of their service offerings. The increase in quality is unwanted by donors, reducing the marginal return to fundraising. Given the lower return, organizations will decrease the amount of fundraising and hence donations. In this model, total revenue will increase, but the increase allowed by the influx of money is dampened by the higher quality and lower fundraising effort and return. Hughes and Luksetich (2004) consider whether increased competition and government cutbacks will negatively affect the behavior of nonprofit arts organizations. Of major concern is

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whether greater reliance on private funding and commercial ventures will result in arts organizations putting more emphasis on fundraising and management at the expense of program services. The analysis focuses on three categories of nonprofit organizations: museums, performing arts, and media and communications. Based on observed differences in funding across organizations and over time, the amount spent on program services is not significantly affected by greater reliance on private funding. Overall, the provision of program services appears to be the primary goal of organizations in these three sectors, and greater reliance on private funding due to government cutbacks does not appear to divert funding from program service delivery. Pierce (2000) explores the effect of culture, politics, and government funding on the decisions made by American opera companies regarding the choice of repertoire. Following DiMaggio and Stenberg (1985), Pierce develops Conventionality or Conformity Indices for 65 opera companies, 32 of which are included in his empirical work. Higher values for the Index indicate greater degrees of conformity. Pierce regresses the Conventionality Index for the opera company on its budget, per capita city income, the percentage of revenue from non-federal public sources, the percentage of revenue from the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA), and indices of conservatism and inflexibility for each city in which the opera is located. While local government funding tends to promote more conventional programming, NEA funding has the opposite effect. Pierce notes that these results are consistent with expectation, arguing that the NEA has a reputation for supporting more controversial and newer artistic productions and not pressuring recipients for certain types of behavior. Local officials, Pierce argues, are more likely to apply pressure to support programs that appeal to wider audiences, which accounts for the finding that local government funding results in more conventional programming. Using American Symphony Orchestra League data, Luksetich and Lange (1995) examine the relationship between unconditional grants and measures of orchestra output. For the major orchestras, unconditional grants increase administrative expenses, which in turn are positively related to quality. The unconditional grants are also negatively related to price, which translates into greater attendance. The metropolitan and small market orchestras respond to unconditional grants with an increase in the number of concerts, again increasing attendance. Henry Hansmann (1981) has argued that the goals of nonprofit organizations in the performing arts can be ascertained by determining the impact of unrestricted funds on the organizations’ activities. Based on their findings, Luksetich and Lange conclude that orchestras of all sizes have output maximization (attendance) as a major goal, with the major orchestras also pursuing some combination of expense maximization and quality maximization. Using data from the League of Symphony Orchestras, Hughes and Luksetich (2008) examine whether unrestricted grants from various levels of government have an effect on the repertoire of symphony orchestras in the United States. The League of Symphony Orchestras gathers detailed information on all sources and types of revenues and expenses, orchestra repertoire, and attendance by type of concert for member orchestras. Among the data contained in these reports are the amounts and sources of all unrestricted funds received by each orchestra. For the full sample of orchestras for the 2005/06 season, the results are weakly supportive of the proposition that federal and state grants encourage less conventional programs, while local grants tend to discourage such activity. The results for the medium and small orchestras show that federal and state grants have the effect of nudging the repertoires of these orchestras toward less conventional programs. The results for the larger orchestras add support to the proposition that local government grants are aimed at more conventional, less innovative programs. As Pierce argued, local support is probably aimed at increasing audience size and less likely to be interested in supporting less conventional programs.

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O’Hagan and Neligan (2005) examine the effect of public subsidies on the nonprofit theatre in England. Their focus is on whether public subsidies affect the composition of the repertoire in recipient theatres. By regressing the Conventionality Index for 40 grant-aided English theatres on the size of the subsidy relative to total income, the size of the theatre, the theatre’s location, and the population and average income in the area, they show that increases in state subsidies result in less conventionality in the English theatres.

Types of government support State arts agencies (SAA) have played a key role in the direct public funding of the arts, providing more than half of the public sector funding for arts and culture in the United States. The system of SAAs was conceived by the founders of the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA) to avoid a centralized federal arts organization dominated by Washington DC. States wanting to receive federal money had to create their own state arts agencies and fund them through state legislative appropriations. The NEA state match on federal funds was significantly less than one-to-one, causing many states to establish an SAA. Although the intent of the federal–state partnership was to avoid elitism in the funding and access to artistic events, the states tended to support the “high arts” institutions rather than artists or communitybased arts organizations. Criticism of the SAAs led to significant programmatic changes that widened the funding opportunities to include more community-based artists and arts education (Lowell 2004). As of fiscal year 1999, SAAs provided approximately $250 million in grants to arts organizations, artists, arts education, and various other organizations and government agencies. The NEA provided roughly $50 million in grants, and the combined state, county, and municipal government support amounted to approximately $500 million in grants through local arts councils. This compares with approximately $11 billion in private sector giving to nonprofit arts, culture, and humanities organizations over the same period (Lowell 2004). Data from 2005 estimate the level of government grants and payments to the arts at $2.83 billion, or roughly 12 percent of total revenue (Wing et al. 2008). The magnitude of government funding of the arts is relatively small, but the influence on the types of art that are funded may be profound. Given the political and budgetary crises that affected the SAAs in the 1990s and 2000s, the SAAs are rethinking their role as primarily a provider of public funds for the arts. While SAAs will continue to provide financial resources to selected organizations and individual artists, as much or more of their attention will be spent interacting with members of the various networks: Building coalitions of policy advocates, gathering and distributing information, convening groups with similar interests and concerns, and identifying areas of opportunity for artists and arts organizations. Much of their work will center on improving arts education, growing the creative economy, and expanding arts participation. (Lowell 2008: ix) In addition to direct public support, nonprofit organizations receive federal tax preference in the form of corporate income tax exemption, the deductibility of charitable donations from taxable personal income, and the deductibility of charitable donations from the base of the estate tax (Rushton 2010). The exemption from the corporate income tax has been in place since its inception in 1913. The justifications for this subsidy include: compensation for the inability of

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nonprofits to issue equity capital, compensation for the provision of public goods by nonprofit organizations, and providing a statement of value of the nonprofit sector by government to encourage private giving and volunteering. Not all nonprofit organization income is exempt from corporate income tax, however. In 1950 the unrelated business income tax (UBIT) was introduced, which taxes commercial activities unrelated to the charitable mission of the nonprofit organization. Ideally, the UBIT will prevent the provision of commercial activity across sectors from being unduly influenced by the tax code. Nonprofit organizations should only be engaging in commercial activities where they are competitive, and for-profit organizations will not be faced with an unfair tax disadvantage. As it turns out, nonprofit organizations engage in a great deal of cost shifting, allocating a high percentage of the organization’s total operating costs to the areas that are subject to UBIT, making this a small source of tax revenue. Changes in federal corporate income tax policy are likely to have little impact on nonprofit tax collections. For all of the talk of instituting the UBIT on particular activities undertaken by nonprofit organizations, the objective may be more to regulate the activities of the organizations rather than to generate tax revenue (Rushton 2010). The ability of individuals to deduct charitable donations from their taxable income is another way that government subsidizes nonprofit organizations. For an individual with a marginal tax rate equal to γ that itemizes deductions for charitable contributions on their tax return, every dollar of donated income will cost the government  in foregone tax revenue. Brooks (2004) estimates that for every dollar of direct federal arts funding there is approximately $14 in indirect aid to the arts generated by the charitable deduction. In 1999 the estimated value of this indirect support to the arts was $1.42 billion. The effectiveness of the subsidy in increasing donations depends on how responsive individuals are to the tax incentive, and whether the increase in donations is sufficient to compensate for the loss in tax revenue. The consensus is that individuals do respond to the stimulus, with a price elasticity of demand greater than one, and that it is more efficient to provide the tax deduction rather than to collect the additional tax revenue and redistribute this to nonprofit organizations. Based on a meta-analysis of the effects of tax rates and income on charitable donations, the weighted mean of the price elasticity of giving is –1.44; a 1 percent decrease in the price of giving is expected to increase donations by 1.44 percent (Peloza and Steel 2005). In addition to the revenue aspect, the tax deductibility allows individuals to determine the distribution of the donations rather than government deciding on the allocation. Greater giving is also associated with increased volunteering and greater civic engagement. While the current system provides a rebate to individuals through a tax deduction, experimental evidence suggests that a matching scheme might actually generate a greater level of combined public/private support. Eckel and Grossman (2003) test the effect of using a rebate subsidy versus a matching subsidy on influencing individual donations to charitable institutions. The research is based on a laboratory experiment using test subjects from the University of Texas at Arlington. The subjects are asked to make a series of decisions regarding charitable contributions based on a given endowment and subsidy scheme. The information provided by the subjects allows the comparison of subsidies that are set to be functionally equivalent, such that a match of “m” per dollar donation is paired with a rebate “r” per dollar donation, with m = r/(1 – r). For example, a rebate of 33 percent would be paired with a match of 50 percent; from a donor’s perspective, it will cost $1.00 in (net) donations to increase the funding to the organization by $1.50 under either scheme. Given the equivalence of the subsidies, it is predicted that individuals will provide the same net contribution in either framework. In the laboratory experiments, they find a significant difference

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in behavior between the two schemes. Contributions under a matching subsidy are between 20 percent and 100 percent larger than under the equivalent rebate subsidy. The difference in contributions may be due to a framing effect, such that the donor’s perception of the subsidy is influenced by the design of the subsidy (Eckel and Grossman 2003). In comparing the two alternatives, subjects may focus on the differences between the options, and disregard the similarities. In this case, the equivalence of the “price” of giving may have been disregarded. Instead, the “size” of the two options may lead donors to feel that the 50 percent match is a better deal than the 33 percent rebate. The framing may also refocus the donor’s attention on the third party influence, with the rebate viewed as an isolated, individual endeavor and the match as leveraging more cooperative, public support. There may also be an “embedding effect” such that the individual decides how much to donate regardless of the subsidy in place (Rushton 2010). Results of a field experiment conducted in conjunction with a mailed fundraising campaign of Minnesota Public Radio support these laboratory results (Eckel and Grossman 2008). Matching subsidies result in larger total donations to charities than rebate subsidies, qualitatively similar to the laboratory findings. The federal government also subsidizes the nonprofit sector by applying the federal estate tax to the net value of assets of estates after deducting the value of charitable gifts. The estate tax lowers the net value of the estate and at the same time decreases the price of giving by deducting charitable donations from the base. Most assume that the lower price of donations outweighs the reduction in wealth when bequests are made, concluding that the estate tax is responsible for an increase in charitable bequests. The current federal tax exemption on estates and gifts was set to roll back on January 1, 2013, from $5.12 million to $1 million, the same level it was in 2002, before tax cuts passed during the George W. Bush era went into effect. A change in the estate tax, particularly a repeal of the entire estate tax, is forecasted to decrease charitable bequests by approximately 20 percent (Rushton 2010).

Implications The theories of private giving and the empirical results quantifying the relationship between private donations and government support have practical implications for the marketing efforts of nonprofit organizations. The crowding-out literature emphasizes the relationship between private and public funding, and the perceived benefits of private funding. The empirical results indicate that crowding-out is more severe with local government support, particularly if that support is perceived as a substitute for private support. It is important to stress the complementarity of government support, stressing the new projects, special events, or expanded programming that requires additional funding from both public and private sources. The impact of government grants on large donors and patrons of the arts should be assessed and their donations monitored to mitigate the possibility of crowd-out. Empirical results also indicate that private giving is most compatible with the impure public good model; the motivation for giving is a combination of altruism and private benefit. That private element needs to be nurtured through recognition, rewards, and influence. The public good aspect of giving suffers most from free-riding; the organization needs to reinforce the importance of each individual donation. To magnify the impact of each donation, emphasize the use of matching programs (perhaps with corporate sponsors); these provide more empowerment to donors. The tax deductibility is another subsidy that provides increased leverage to small donors. The literature on fundraising suggests that government support may lessen the return to fundraising and thereby reduce the effort placed on fundraising. Crowding-out and lower fundraising

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may actually be more cost effective from the organization’s perspective, particularly if the cost of obtaining funds is lower from grant writing versus fundraising campaigns. Greater reliance on government funding is not necessarily undesirable, but diversity is important in achieving a stable revenue stream. For fundraising efforts in general, emphasize the matching element of the tax deduction akin to greater public involvement, and the private benefit that flows directly to the donor. “Imagine an arts fund-raising pitch that says, ‘Do you believe the government should spend more on the arts? Then make a donation, and force the government to give’” (Brooks 2004: 100). The tax deductibility of donations is an important aspect of giving. While not the sole motivation for giving, charitable donations are price elastic, meaning that donors are sensitive to the price of giving. This is true with respect to both income tax deductibility and estate tax deductibility. The advantages extend to stocks and other assets, which have the added benefit of unrealized capital gains claimed by the donor but realized by the nonprofit. Recognition of the sensitivity to price should also be taken into account in projecting future revenues. Higher tax rates decrease the price of giving, along with lowering net income and wealth, which would most likely have a positive impact on donations. The mission and vision of the arts organization must also be compatible with the donors, both public and private. Government support may favor certain types of programming, whether it be community based, experimental, or “high cultural” art. These change over time and by level of government. The decision to pursue government funding versus private funding is multifaceted. Consideration of return on investment, diversity, stability, and compatibility with mission should all be taken into account.

References Abrams, B. and Schmidt, M., 1978. The “Crowding-out” Effect of Governmental Transfers on Private Charitable Contributions. Public Choice, 33(1): 29–39. Abrams, B. and Schmidt, M., 1984. The Crowding-out Effect of Governmental Transfers on Private Charitable Contributions: Cross-section Evidence. National Tax Journal, 37(4): 563–568. Andreoni, J. and Payne, A., 2003. Do Government Grants to Private Charities Crowd-out Giving or Fund-raising? American Economic Review, 93(3): 792–812. Andreoni, J. and Payne, A., 2011. Is Crowding Out Due Entirely to Fundraising? Evidence from a Panel of Charities. Journal of Public Economics, 95(5–6): 334–343. Borgonovi, F., 2006. Do Public Grants to American Theatres Crowd-out Private Donations? Public Choice, 126(3–4): 429–451. Brooks, A., 2000. Public Subsidies and Charitable Giving: Crowding Out, Crowding In, or Both? Journal of Policy Analysis and Management, 19(3): 451–464. Brooks, A., 2004. In Search of True Public Arts Support. Public Budgeting and Finance, 24(2): 88–100. Cornes, R. and Sandler, T., 1984. Easy Riders, Joint Production, and Public Goods. Economic Journal, 62(1): 580–598. DiMaggio, P. and Stenberg, K., 1985. Why Do Some Theatres Innovate More than Others? An Empirical Analysis. Poetics, 14(1–2): 107–122. Dokko, J., 2009. Does the NEA Crowd Out Private Charitable Contributions to the Arts? National Tax Journal, 62(1): 57–75. Driessen, P., 1985. Comment on “The Crowding-out Effect of Governmental Transfers on Private Charitable Contributions”. National Tax Journal, 38(4): 571–573. Eckel, C. and Grossman, P., 2003. Rebate Versus Matching: Does How We Subsidize Charitable Contributions Matter? Journal of Public Economics, 87(3): 681–701. Eckel, C. and Grossman, P., 2008. Subsidizing Charitable Contributions: A Natural Field Experiment Comparing Matching and Rebate Subsidies. Experimental Economics, 11(3): 234–252. Ferris, J. and West, E., 2003. Private versus Public Charity: Reassessing Crowding-out from the Supply Side. Public Choice, 116(3–4): 399–417. Hansmann, H., 1981. Nonprofit Enterprise in the Performing Arts. Bell Journal of Economics, 12(2): 341–361.

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Government support and nonprofits Horne, C., Johnson, J. and Van Slyke, D., 2005. Do Charitable Donors Know Enough – and Care Enough – About Government Subsidies to Affect Private Giving to Nonprofit Organizations? Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Quarterly, 34(1): 136–149. Hughes, P. and Luksetich, W., 2004. Nonprofit Arts Organizations: Do Funding Sources Influence Spending Patterns? Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Quarterly, 33(2): 203–220. Hughes, P. and Luksetich, W., 2008. Effects of Subsidies on Symphony Orchestra Repertoire, St. Cloud State University Economics Faculty Working Papers. [Online] Available at: http://repository.stcloudstate.edu/econ_wps/ [Accessed 15 November 2012]. Hughes, P., Luksetich, W. and Rooney, P., 2012. Crowding-out and Fundraising Efforts: The Impact of Government Grants on Symphony Orchestras, St. Cloud State University Economics Faculty Working Papers. [Online] Available at: http://repository.stcloudstate.edu/econ_wps/ [Accessed 15 November 2012]. Kingma, B., 1989. An Accurate Measurement of the Crowd-out Effect, Income Effect, and Price Effect for Charitable Contributions. Journal of Political Economy, 97(5): 1197–1207. Lowell, J., 2004. State Arts Agencies 1965–2003: Whose Interests to Serve? MG-121-WF, Santa Monica, CA: RAND Corporation. Lowell, J., 2008. State Arts Policy: Trends and Future Prospects. Santa Monica, CA: RAND Corporation. Luksetich, W. and Lange, M., 1995. A Simultaneous Model of Nonprofit Symphony Orchestra Behavior. Journal of Cultural Economics, 19(1): 49–68. O’Hagan, J. and Neligan, A., 2005. State Subsidies and Repertoire Conventionality in the Nonprofit English Theatre Sector: An Econometric Analysis. Journal of Cultural Economics, 29(1): 35–57. Payne, A., 1998. Does the Government Crowd-out Private Donations? New Evidence from a Sample of Nonprofit Firms. Journal of Public Economics, 69(3): 323–345. Peloza, J. and Steel, P., 2005. The Price Elasticities of Charitable Contibutions: A Meta-analysis. Journal of Public Policy and Marketing, 24(2): 260–272. Pierce, J., 2000. Programmatic Risk-taking by American Opera Companies. Journal of Cultural Economics, 24(1): 45–63. Rose-Ackerman, S., 1987. Ideals versus Dollars: Donors, Charity Managers, and Government Grants. Journal of Political Economy, 95(4): 810–823. Rushton, M., 2010. Federal Tax Policy. In: B. Seaman and D. Young, eds. Handbook of Research on Nonprofit Economics and Management. Northampton: Edward Elgar, 291–302. Schiff, J., 1985. Does Government Spending Crowd Out Charitable Contributions? National Tax Journal, 38(4): 535–546. Smith, T., 2007. The Impact of Government Funding on Private Contributions to Nonprofit Performing Arts Organizations. Annals of Public and Cooperative Economics, 78(1): 137–160. Steinberg, R., 1987. Voluntary Donations and Public Expenditures in a Federalist System. American Economic Review, 77(1): 24–36. Wing, K., Pollak, T. and Blackwood, A., 2008. The Nonprofit Almanac 2008. Washington, DC: Urban Institute Press.

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13 ‘WALK THROUGH THE DOORS. BE OUR GUEST’ How important are partnerships to enable multicultural groups to attend arts events? Fara Azmat, Ruth Rentschler and Yuka Fujimoto

Introduction Large numbers of people are moving from developing countries to developed countries seeking a more secure lifestyle for themselves and their children. Australia is a destination for multicultural groups, making up 30 per cent of the population in cities such as Melbourne (Australian Bureau of Statistics 2011). However, few people from multicultural backgrounds attend arts events. This is often the case for new arrivals, such as those from Africa and Asia, and those who do not speak English at home (Australia Council 2010). Nonetheless, multicultural group participation in the community is central for social cohesion as well as for the development of their identity both within their ethnic group and in the broader Australian society (Syson and Wood 2006). Although research on multicultural arts audiences is growing, there is little understanding of why groups of people attend arts events and the role that partnerships between arts organizations play in that process. This chapter explores an arts partnership to examine how it enhances social inclusion of multicultural groups, using attendance at arts events as a conduit for development. Arts in this chapter refers to both community arts and the high arts, as they take place in festivals, events, arts centres, including drama, dance, exhibitions, musicals, installations and presentations, such as poetry readings (Barraket 2005). Past research has recognized the arts as a means of promoting social inclusion by developing multicultural communities and individuals (Barraket 2005; Chew 2009; Belfiore 2002; Goodlad et al. 2002). For example, individual benefits derived from the arts lead to greater self-esteem while, at a community level, arts can contribute to neighbourhood renewal, creation or strengthening of communities, development of social capital and promotion of social inclusion by improving health, reducing crime, employment rates and providing education (Shaw 2003). The arts can bring ‘comfort in times of trouble, heal personal wounds, inspire community participation, and foster a more compassionate society’ (Chew 2009: 1). Partnerships, if successful, are credited with overcoming problems of poverty and social exclusion (Geddes 2000); ameliorating public service delivery problems (Linder 1999); fostering greater efficiency, making public sectors more contemporary and responsive; and meeting consumer demands 132

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while improving accountability (Deakin 2010). Social inclusion can be further developed through local partnerships by sharing knowledge, building trust, coordinating and integrating policy, innovating policy and leveraging resources and synergies with complementary purposes (Geddes 2000; Tett et al. 2001). However, we know little about social inclusion and arts partnerships. In this chapter, partnership is defined as a formal, collaborative relationship between two organizations and their members that results in sharing resources and expertise as well as links to artists, multicultural communities and groups, focused around a special program of arts events. The partnership analyzed in this chapter is between the Arts Centre, Melbourne and Multicultural Arts Victoria (MAV), also in Melbourne, Australia. The partnership led to the embedding of multicultural programs in the Arts Centre’s mainstream events; providing opportunities for different cultures to be represented; encouraging the general public from all walks of life to attend performances; enabling social inclusion to be fostered amongst performers and audiences, as well as providing career development opportunities for marginalized multicultural artists. We consider the term multicultural to include people who are a minority in numbers in the community, were born overseas and have a different race or religion. In this chapter, multicultural groups include migrants and refugees. We recognize that social inclusion is a contested term (Mingione 1996). However, we view social inclusion as a process that creates opportunities for individuals to be included economically, socially, politically and culturally. We define it in this chapter as providing access to economic, social and political rights and benefits through the cultural dimension which includes representation, participation and access (Sandell 1998). While representation refers to the extent to which an individual’s culture is presented within the mainstream culture, participation relates to the opportunities that an individual has to participate in the cultural process. Access refers to the opportunities of the individual to enjoy and appreciate cultural processes and is related to the former two aspects. Sandell (1998) further argues that the cultural dimension is interrelated with economic, social and political dimensions. The different constructs of cultural dimension such as participation, representation and access are seen to improve individual self-esteem and self-confidence which can provide better employment opportunities with positive social and political implications (Sandell 1998). Inclusive organizations provide an important means for mitigating social inequality. They also assist multicultural groups to gain inroads into the mainstream, whereas exclusive organizations systematically exclude them from paid employment and participation in socio-economic activities (Mor Barak 2010; Williams and Windebank 2000). In this chapter, we refer to inclusive organizations as those that are not only inclusive of minority members within the organization but also of those minorities outside organizations (Mor Barak 2000, 2010). Inclusive organizations engage in promoting and encouraging minority participation in socio-economic activities (Kulkarni and Lengnick-Hall 2011). In doing so, their activities make socio-economic connections with minority staff, audiences and other stakeholders. The rest of this chapter is organized as follows. We first provide a background of partnerships and then introduce our case with research questions. Next, we describe our method, then our findings in answering the research questions. The chapter concludes with a discussion in which we draw on theory to identify implications for arts marketing strategies for increasing the participation of multicultural groups at arts events. We conclude by suggesting avenues for future research.

Background Partnerships have long been advocated and used to address societal problems, including social inclusion (Brinkerhoff and Brinkerhoff 2011; Geddes 2000). Although partnerships (especially public–private partnerships) have received considerable attention for economic and social 133

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regeneration in the last three decades globally, there have been few empirical studies conducted around the partnership between governmental arts agencies and small, nonprofit community arts organizations in promoting social inclusion. The concept of partnerships has multiple meanings (English 1999). It covers different forms of organization or relationship which range from ventures between state, businesses and civil society, including community organizations, voluntary organizations and nonprofits. In this chapter we focus on the six-year partnership between a public state agency (i.e. Arts Centre)(AC) and a nonprofit community organization (i.e. Multicultural Arts Victoria) (MAV). Partnerships have been contested with both arguments for and against their benefits and pitfalls. According to Clegg and McNulty (2002: 590), the values and organizational ethos of partners lead to ‘synergy, innovation and capacity building’, whilst at the same time creating professional and institutional boundaries Arguments against partnerships include the blurring of responsibilities, poor operating standards and erosion of working conditions (Turhani and Shqau 2011); synergies impacting negatively on partnership success and capacity to deliver (Clegg and McNulty 2002); restricting competition and choice, increasing costs to customers and limiting innovation (Brinkerhoff and Brinkerhoff 2011). In the last three decades there has been a rise in partnerships globally to promote social inclusion and local development, despite the contested nature of the term social inclusion (Geddes 2000; Bovaird 2004). The Arts Centre is a fine cultural venue in Melbourne, Australia, and one of the largest arts centres in the Asia Pacific region. Established in August 1968, it is located on the south bank of the Yarra River, close to the central business district in Melbourne. It is used as a venue for major civic occasions, sporting and cultural events such as the Commonwealth Games, and the Melbourne International Arts Festival (Arts Centre 2009). The Arts Centre employs around 200 paid staff (EFT), has a volunteer board of management, and turns over A$58m each year. It holds 4,500 events each year. The Arts Centre sees itself as one of the most powerful cultural symbols of Melbourne (Arts Centre 2011). MAV is the peak multicultural nonprofit community arts organization in the state of Victoria. Emerging in 1972 from the Festival of All Nations, MAV specializes in representing artists from various multicultural backgrounds. It employs 12 EFT staff, 15 volunteers, has a volunteer board of management and turns over A$2m per year. In contrast to the AC, it is lean and nimble, well connected to communities. MAV specializes in innovative solutions through connections to multicultural groups and provides opportunities for them to participate in the arts. The Arts Centre is perceived as a prestigious venue, reinforced by its location in a grand building in the centre of Melbourne, while MAV is perceived as a community organization with expertise in managing cultural diversity in the arts sector. The partnership between the Arts Centre and MAV is represented by the Mix It Up (MIU) program which ran from 2006 to 2011. Mix It Up entailed a program of events held at the Arts Centre and other locations. Events were held in theatres, foyers, on lawns and the pavement. Events were evaluated progressively through surveys and focus groups, with audiences, artists and stakeholders. In 2006, as part of the Victorian State Government’s policy on social inclusion, the Arts Centre and MAV established a strategic partnership in order to create an inclusive arts program, bringing together diverse groups of artists, audiences and community leaders (Multicultural Arts Victoria 2011a). We answer the following questions in this study: How has the partnership between the Arts Centre and MAV helped multicultural groups to attend arts events?

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How has the partnership helped in social inclusion of minority groups? How has the partnership built audiences?

Methodology Working within a qualitative paradigm, we conducted six focus groups of approximately five to ten members in each group, with a total of 43 participants, who included artists, arts audience and staff (some of the staff were also artists) from the Arts Centre and MAV participated in the focus groups. The duration of each focus group was approximately one and a half hours. Our approach allowed us to hear multiple voices from stakeholders in relation to multicultural groups’ participation at arts events. Participants were recruited using the MAV/Arts Centre databases as well as snowball sampling, considered an effective method when populations are rare or are difficult to reach (Noy 2008). Arts Centre staff were approached through the Arts Centre manager and MAV staff were approached directly by the chief executive officer. A total of 17 staff (among them 10 staff were also artists) participated in the focus groups. Audiences and minority artists were randomly selected using the Arts Centre’s official directory of previous audiences and artists. We sent an e-mail invitation to 69 artists and audiences, asking for expressions of interest to participate in our research. Eleven artists/audience members replied with a response rate of 16 per cent. The rest of the artists/audiences were recruited through referrals. As a result, we conducted six focus groups which were a mixture of 18 audiences, 13 artists, three community members and 17 staff from the Arts Centre and MAV. It may be noted that of the staff members, some (8) were performing a dual role of staff as well as artists. The focus groups were based on a ‘Schedule’ or guide of questions derived from the literature review. The questions asked were open-ended allowing the participants to express their views and to enable further clarification by the interviewers. Specifically, questions were asked about perceptions, such as: (a) whether the partnership between Arts Centre and MAV through the MIU program has made Arts Centre more inclusive as an organization (b) whether the MIU partnership has helped in addressing social exclusion and (c) whether this partnership has helped to build arts audiences. The focus groups were transcribed and the authors independently content analyzed the verbatim responses and later met to establish the major themes emerging from the discussion (Miles and Huberman 1994).

Findings The participants were from diverse ethnic groups. Around half of the participants (51 per cent) were Anglo-Australian. The remainder were from Asia, Africa, the Middle East, the Pacific Islands, the USA, Indonesia, and Northern and Southern Europe. Their ages ranged from 20 to 55 years. Among the participants, 40 per cent were artists; 42 per cent were audiences; and 8 and 7 per cent of the sample were administrators and production managers respectively.

Dominant themes In the following section, we present the cumulative findings of all the groups rather than reporting the findings of each group separately. Three key themes related to the questions emerged from the data analysis. The partnership between the Arts Centre and MAV fostered: (1) welcoming new groups, so developing a more inclusive Arts Centre; (2) opening up career opportunities

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for creative development and performance for multicultural artists; and (3) bringing people together to build diverse audiences. The themes are discussed below.

Welcoming new groups to the arts: ‘Drop in when you feel like it’ Focus group participants made comments such as MAV was perceived as ‘approachable’, with an ‘open door’ policy of ‘drop in when you feel like it’. Further, participants commented on the importance of MAV having expertise in working with minorities, new arrivals to Australia and refugees, using the arts as the vehicle for engaging them. Brazilian artists have stressed the inclusivity of MAV: My perception of them [MAV], as I’ve seen them in the last few years, is that they’re really interested in including people of diverse backgrounds in any way they think possible. If it’s a shy group, they will target them through their food. If it’s an explosive group, they will target them through their acrobatics and their dance. The MIU program enabled the Arts Centre to be perceived as welcoming people from diverse backgrounds, as a representative quotation shows: The Arts Centre can sometimes be seen as a place that’s formal and unwelcoming to multicultural groups. What Mix It Up did was encourage people to feel welcome in a place like this. The way that the Arts Centre and MAV made ‘people feel welcome’ was to hold events in the foyers and on the pavements, as well as in the halls and theatres. Food was offered as a means of engaging multicultural groups around common themes of welcome and engagement. The informality of the setting broke down the barriers created by the building which is formal and stately. Artists from developing countries mentioned that it was ‘morale boosting’ and ‘a privilege’ for them to perform at the Arts Centre, which helped them ‘to be recognized’ and ‘included in mainstream society’. For example, a folk dancer from Serbia said: Focusing on the Arts Centre as a venue, it was a morale boost to our group to have the opportunity to perform in such a beautiful space. We’re often performing outside or in less than ideal conditions. Some participants considered that MIU helped create harmony, a sense of community and responsibility, as can be seen in the following quotation: ‘MIU creates a sense of responsibility for the community to take part in multiculturalism. In the end it creates more understanding in the community.’ These comments contrasted with past experiences of the Arts Centre as ‘a forbidding venue’, which made them feel ‘it wasn’t for me’ with its fit-out with ‘red plush walls and brass rails’, reinforced by its location in the posh cultural precinct of Melbourne. All the participants – staff, audiences, managers and performers – perceived the MIU partnership between MAV and the Arts Centre as effective in ‘bringing people together’, and enabling ‘connections to occur with various communities’ who otherwise would not use the Arts Centre. The partnership had led to the embedding of multicultural programs in the Arts Centre’s mainstream events, providing opportunities for different cultures to be represented and also encouraging the general public to attend shows. This first dimension highlights the 136

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importance of welcoming new multicultural groups to arts events, using socializing skills to make them feel part of them.

Open up! Career development through the arts Another major theme that emerged from the interviews was that the MIU programs served as a learning curve for multicultural artists, who do not come from the mainstream. The programs foster creative development and career opportunities by providing a professional venue for performance, with technical support and the opportunity to present to large and small audiences in large and small spaces, both inside and outside formal venues, depending on the state of readiness of the artists. MIU provided non-mainstream artists with the opportunity to showcase their talents. The artists presented themselves to the wider community, which built their confidence as well as self-esteem. This is also confirmed in the MAV report on MIU which provides evidence that the program supported and presented a range of local, national and international artists from over 50 nationalities in more than 100 events in 2006 (see Box 13.1). Participants considered that performing in MIU programs in the Arts Centre built credibility and confidence as artists, for example: Open up the possibility – we hear a lot of different people. It is really nice to get a sense of the people as well as of the culture, different cultures, how they come together. You see something you’ve never seen before. It worked for a centre to open their doors. We now respect ourselves more and our contribution more, because we are now performing in the Arts Centre and it’s something special.

Box 13.1 The effect of Mix It Up in building audience numbers in 2006 MIX IT UP has attracted significant new and diverse audiences and visitors to the Arts Centre, as indicated by the following statistics:

• 62% of occasional visitors against the average of 51% for Arts Centre performances. • 53% of visitors under the age of 45 against the average of 30% for Arts Centre performances. • 24% of visitors from a non-English speaking background against the average of 14% for Arts Centre performances.

• A significant increase (from 16% to 31%) of attendance by young households of families without children as well as families with children (from 32% to 40%).

• Significant increase in attendance by infrequent visitors to the Arts Centre – up from 27% to 37%. • Supported and presented an extraordinary range of local, national and international artists from over 50 nationalities over 100 events.

• Provided artists with career development opportunities that enabled them to obtain additional artistic work, such as the Ethiopian artist who was working as a security person in a factory in Melbourne. He had been a pop star in Ethiopia. He had not played professionally in Melbourne until MAV mentored him through other multicultural artists. He performed in the Mix It Up program and as a result of the additional exposure, has gone on to perform interstate and overseas. Source: Multicultural Arts Victoria (2011a, b).

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The majority of participants considered multicultural performances a learning curve, with opportunities for culturally diverse artists to cross-fertilize ideas and teach each other new skills. One audience member mentioned: ‘You learn an incredible amount being involved in the project, and you meet a wide variety of different people and you learn how different people operate.’ The performances through the MIU partnership have enabled the artists to develop themselves, showcase their talent, interact with other artists and cross fertilize ideas, thus building confidence and credibility. Findings also suggest that opening the minds of artists and audiences to different cultures through MIU has been a critical facilitator for multicultural groups to develop self-esteem, community identity and establish networks. Career development opportunities through the Arts Centre and MAV have enabled artists to promote themselves as having performed on an international stage, bringing forth additional artistic work around Australia and overseas (see Box 13.1). This has helped minority artists to be included in mainstream society, with economic and social implications. Artists’ reputations were boosted through the MIU program, enabling them to obtain paid artistic work in other domains.

Come together! Bring mainstream audiences to multiculturalism When asked how the MIU program was building audiences, the participants mentioned that multicultural events in the Arts Centre have created a sense of an ‘inclusive arts community’ by providing ‘opportunities for artists’ to participate, represent their culture as well as facilitate easy access to audiences at performances. This is reflected in the MIU program winning four prestigious awards including the NSW Ethnic Affairs Commission Award, the City of Melbourne Award for Contribution to Community, the Victorian Government Award for Excellence in Multicultural Affairs (Arts) and the Victorian Arts Portfolio Leadership Award for Leadership in Public Programs (Multicultural Arts Victoria 2011b; Arts Centre 2007). The majority of participants told us, ‘If it’s a multicultural city then it needs to have multicultural shows.’ They stated that representation of different cultures through the MIU program gave them the opportunity to experience and learn about different cultures and also provided ‘avenues for connecting with different cultural networks’. They told us that these performances were useful ‘ice-breakers’ as they provided avenues for interaction, as can be seen in the following quotation: ‘[there is the] opportunity to experience different cultures, with everybody coming together, connecting with different networks; different cultures with different musicians’. Some participants perceived that performances helped to change artist and audience attitudes not only towards other ethnic groups but also about themselves. The following quotations support this viewpoint: It made me connect to my own cultural roots, and even for the first time, perform in my own cultural dress. I never even owned one. I had one made. So, yes, I changed some of my behaviour. It opens my eyes to see more the other world, the other Australia and other cultures, how it is. It helps me to know more about other cultures and it helps me to go further professionally. The process of opening up and coming together resulted from the partnership. For example, some participants mentioned that MIU programs played an important role in encouraging the general public to attend the shows, presenting the Arts Centre as a welcoming venue. It provided greater interaction amongst multicultural artists and audiences. As an artist from Brazil

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inferred, artists and audiences could ‘walk through the doors’. The report from MAV confirms that MIU attracted significant new and diverse audiences and visitors to the Arts Centre. For example, Box 13.1 shows the increase in infrequent visitors, under the age of 45, families with children and without children, from non-English speaking backgrounds, which can be attributed to the MIU partnership. In 2010, the Arts Centre achieved a ‘record of over 2.4 million attendances’ at programs and ‘more than 800,000 participated in exhibitions, events and related activities’ (Arts Centre 2011). Notably, most of this growth was attributed to the introduction of the MIU program in 2006 (Arts Centre 2011). In 2010 and 2011, MIU achieved total attendances of 14,800, which exceeded its target by nearly 25 per cent (Arts Centre 2011). Therefore, both the primary and secondary data confirm that the partnership with the Arts Centre and MAV through the MIU program has contributed in building audiences – both mainstream and minority – and visitors to the Arts Centre.

Discussion, limitations and conclusions Despite their potential benefits, partnerships have not always achieved their intended outcomes (Brinkerhoff and Brinkerhoff 2011). However, our findings suggest that the partnership around MIU between the Arts Centre and MAV has been successful in that it has been perceived by its multicultural stakeholders to be responsive to community needs, promoting a welcoming face to new groups who wish to partake in arts events. It brought people together, opening up possibilities for networking, promoting their art on small and large stages and providing opportunities for career development. It also developed audiences in multicultural groups as well as mainstream groups, providing interaction between the two. These activities extend our understanding of social inclusion. The achievements have been possible by sharing knowledge, trusting, coordinating and integrating policy and leveraging resources (Geddes 2000; Tett et al. 2001) which have led to synergistic outcomes. Our findings from the focus groups and the secondary data confirm the importance of the partnership between the Arts Centre and MAV, in creating a welcoming environment for social connection and audience development. The Arts Centre became recognized as a community meeting place where cultural diversity is celebrated, distances between the arts and diverse communities were bridged, and people were educated about different cultures. Our findings are in accord with Syson and Wood (2006), who found that community events are more successful when social aspects such as food and informal settings are included in them. In taking a holistic approach to staging arts events, the Arts Centre and MAV enhanced employment and career opportunities for multicultural artists. Further, the cross-fertilizations of ideas and skills amongst local and international artists has strengthened the arts and has helped minority groups to be included in mainstream society. From 2006 and 2011, the partnership between Arts Centre and MAV provided a range of multicultural arts programs, comprising theatre, music, installations, food offerings and exhibitions, with workshops covering diverse cultures from Africa, the Middle East, Cuba, Indonesia, Jamaica, Turkey, India and Indigenous Australia (Multicultural Arts Victoria 2011b). It established multiple approaches to connect arts and skilled ethnic minority artists: through multicultural performances; a creative public program, with low priced or free tickets; interactional workshops to create a social space; and time for diverse artists, community members and leaders and audiences to integrate and learn from each other; with opportunities for appreciating the arts. Our findings illustrate that the partnership between the Arts Centre and MAV provided stakeholders with the opportunity to participate, to represent their cultures, and enjoy and 139

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appreciate performances in an informal setting. Informality is important for social inclusion of multicultural groups, as it breaks down barriers in unfamiliar settings for multicultural groups at arts events. The opportunities of ‘representation’, ‘participation’ and ‘access’ provided to the participants are consistent with the definition of cultural inclusion as proposed by Sandell (1998). Cultural inclusion is related to and interconnected with the social, economic and political dimensions of social inclusion. This is reflected in our findings. The dimensions of cultural inclusion have built multicultural groups’ self-esteem, self-confidence and social networks with positive economic and social outcomes. In addition, MIU has also helped mainstream communities get to know minority multicultural groups and their cultures, which have empowered multicultural groups to be accepted and included in society. Further it has changed artist and audience attitudes towards different cultural and ethnic groups. Our study makes three theoretical contributions. First, we extend the literature on multicultural arts marketing, helping arts marketers and policy makers understand the processes for multicultural groups in seeking to attend arts events. Second, we identify social inclusion mechanisms in arts events through partnerships between two arts organizations. The partnership provided opportunities through the arts for socializing, networking, skills development and career development in informal settings which promoted identity for multicultural groups. Notably, the partnership created bridges for diverse stakeholders (i.e. multicultural artists and audiences, community members and leaders, government and local/international agencies) through the arts to appreciate differences. It has also provided career opportunities for migrants, and enlarged their cultural business opportunities through local and international collaborations across national borders. Third, the study emphasizes socializing and networking in informal settings as important factors for multicultural groups in deciding whether or not to participate in arts events. Multicultural groups feel comfortable at community events, as Kolb (2002) found in her study of audiences. Our study showed that community events can take place in high-art facilities like the Arts Centre, without alienating multicultural groups. Although our findings are gathered from multiple sources of evidence, we acknowledge certain limitations of this study. Our sample was purposive, limited to 43 participants. Future research is recommended that quantifies the effects of partnerships through inclusive programs as well as their socio-economic impacts on partnership organizations, industries and communities.

References Arts Centre (2007) ‘Multicultural program a winner for the Arts Centre, again’, The Arts Centre Melbourne. Retrieved 9 July 2012, . Arts Centre (2009) ‘Birth of a culture centre’, The Arts Centre Melbourne. Retrieved 29 July 2011, . Arts Centre (2011) Victorian Arts Centre Trust Annual Report 2010–2011. The Arts Centre Melbourne. Australia Council (2010) ‘More than bums on seats: Australian participation in the arts’, Sydney: Australia Council. Australian Bureau of Statistics (2011) ‘Census QuickStats’. Retrieved 25 September 2011, . Barraket, J. (2005) ‘Putting people in the picture? The role of the arts in social inclusion’, Social Policy Working Paper No. 4, Melbourne: Brotherhood of St Laurence and Centre for Public Policy. Belfiore, E. (2002) ‘Art as a means of alleviating social exclusion: Does it really work? A critique of instrumental cultural policies and social impact studies in the UK’, International Journal of Cultural Policy, 8(1): 91–106.

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Bovaird, T. (2004) ‘Public–private partnerships: from contested concepts to prevalent practice’, International Review of Administrative Sciences, 70(2): 199–215. Brinkerhoff, W.D. and Brinkerhoff, M.J. (2011) ‘Public–private partnerships: perspectives on purposes, publicness, and good governance’, Public Administration and Development, 31(1): 2–14. Chew, R. (2009) Community-Based Arts Organizations: A New Center of Gravity, Washington, DC: Americans for the Arts. Clegg, S. and McNulty, K. (2002) ‘Partnership working in delivering social inclusion: organizational and gender dynamics’, Journal of Education Policy, 17(5): 587–601. Deakin, N. (2010) ‘Public–private partnerships: a UK case study’, Public Management Review, 4(2): 133–147. English, M.L. (1999) ‘Public–private partnerships in Australia: an overview of their nature, purpose, incidence and oversight’, UNSW Law Journal, 29(3): 250–263. Geddes, M. (2000) ‘Tackling social exclusion in the European Union? The limits to the new orthodoxy of local partnership’, International Journal of Urban and Regional Research, 24(4): 782–800. Goodlad, R., Hamilton, C. and Taylor, P. (2002) Not Just A Treat: Arts and Social Inclusion (a report to the Scottish Arts Council), Centre for Cultural Policy Research, Department of Urban Studies, University of Glasgow. Kolb, B. (2002) ‘Ethnic preference for the arts: the role of the social experience as attendance motivation’, International Journal of Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Leadership, 7(2): 172–181. Kulkarni, M. and Lengnick-Hall, M.L. (2011) ‘Socialization of people with disabilities in the workplace’, Human Resource Management, 50(4): 521–540. Linder, H.S. (1999) ‘Coming to terms with the public–private partnership: a grammar of multiple meanings’, American Behavioral Scientist, 43(1): 38–55. Miles, M. and Huberman, M. (1994) Qualitative Data Analysis: An Expanded Sourcebook (2nd edn), Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Mingione, E. (ed.) (1996) Urban Poverty and the Underclass: A Reader, Oxford: Blackwell. Mor Barak, M.E. (2000) ‘The inclusive workplace: an eco-systems approach to diversity management’, Social Work, 45(4), 339–345. Mor Barak, M.E. (2010) Managing Diversity: Toward a Globally Inclusive Workplace, Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Multicultural Arts Victoria (MAV) (2011a) Mix It Up! 2007 Acquittal Report, Multicultural Arts Victoria. Retrieved 29 July 2011, . Multicultural Arts Victoria (MAV) (2011b) Mix It Up – A Partnership Program, Multicultural Arts Victoria. Retrieved 29 July 2011, . Noy, C. (2008) ‘Sampling knowledge: the hermeneutics of snowball sampling in qualitative research’, International Journal of Social Research Methodology, 11(4): 327–344. Sandell, R. (1998) ‘Museums as agents of social inclusion’, Museum Management and Curatorship, 17(4): 401–418. Shaw, P. (2003) ‘What’s art got to do with it?’ Briefing paper on the role of the arts in neighbourhood renewal, Arts Council England. Syson, F. and Wood, E.H. (2006) ‘Local authority arts events and the South Asian community: unmet needs – a UK case study’, Managing Leisure, 11: 245–258. Tett, L., Munn, P., Blair, A., Kay, H., Martin, I., Martin, J. and Ranson, S. (2001) ‘Collaboration between schools and community education agencies in tackling social exclusion’, Research Papers in Education, 16(1): 3–21. Turhani, A. and Shqau, G. (2011) ‘Public–private partnerships – for and against China–USA’, Business Review, 10(9): 893–898. Williams, C. and Windebank, J. (2000) ‘Beyond social inclusion through employment: harnessing mutual aid as complementary social inclusion policy’, Policy and Politics, 29(1): 15–27.

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14 WEB STRATEGIES FOR ENGAGING AUDIENCES Stephen B. Preece and Jennifer Wiggins Johnson

Introduction Radical shifts in web-based technologies have transformed major industry groups, including retail, publishing, banking, media and travel services. While virtually no segment of society has been left untouched, some are certainly influenced more than others – the fundamental changes experienced in traditional newspapers are illustrative (Barnhurst 2012). The performing arts – music, theater, dance, and opera – are an interesting case when it comes to web and digital impact. On the one hand, the enduring practice of experiencing live performances, at a particular time and place with human beings physically present, represents a counter offer to the plugged-in, online, digital characteristics that define the essence of web activity. On the other hand, web-based practices have made substantial inroads into the activities surrounding onstage art, particularly in the areas of marketing, promotion, education, and outreach (Hartley 2004). Web tools and activities present unprecedented opportunities for arts groups to access large population segments, including high-potential audience members, in effective and relatively inexpensive communication efforts. Such affordable reach through broadly available channels – email, social media, apps, and websites – has rarely been an option for resource-constrained arts organizations. Nevertheless, web applications can also present a bewildering array of possible options for online promotion and interaction. The forms, varieties, and uses of web technologies within the performing arts represent a still wide-open field for arts organizations to grapple with. Further, the challenge of understanding the strategies, etiquette, and nuance associated with the more prominent social media sites (i.e. Facebook, Twitter) has become a veritable cottage industry for consultants and instructional media, all within a never-ending stream of new web vehicles that sprout onto the market at an accelerating pace. Add to that the burgeoning outlets for web-based information and commentary, and the mind boggles. In the face of both the challenges and opportunities of web options, arts organizations can benefit from a conceptual frame to help shape efforts in support of the un-digital art they hope to help flourish. This chapter will present web-based activities in the performing arts in a conceptual and historical context, consider three strategies for using web-based activities to

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overcome the unique challenges of marketing the performing arts, and look to future directions for practice and research.

The performing arts as difficult brands A first step in considering web strategies for the performing arts is addressing why such organizations are unique with respect to other products or services. While numerous contributions have addressed the importance and uniqueness of the arts sector (Nantel and Georgie 2007), one of the most simple and useful frames has been captured under the rubric of “difficult brands” (Harrison and Hartley 2007; Preece and Johnson 2011). In contrast to other products and services, the performing arts are subject to two defining characteristics that make their promotion particularly difficult: constrained availability and uncertain outcomes. An important tenet of basic marketing has to do with making a product or service predictably available to a consumer, as much as possible, when desired (Fournier 1998). Internet shopping with fast-response delivery has exacerbated this trend, bending the norm towards continuous consumer availability. The nature of the performing arts is such that a performance necessarily takes place at a specified time and place. The potential audience member must therefore bend to the availability of the arts event, often purposefully scheduling the event in advance. Further, the arts organization has only a limited opportunity to satisfy the consumer with little or no interaction while the theater is dark. This constraint leads to the difficulty of keeping the arts organization and its efforts top-of-mind. With competing activities and voices, arts groups battle becoming low priority while the offerings are unavailable (Harrison and Hartley 2007). The other unique characteristic that sets the performing arts apart is that of uncertain outcomes (Harrison and Hartley 2007). With most products and services, marketing and promotional efforts center on helping the consumer understand the strengths of their offering, one feature of which is typically consistency of offering and reliability of experience. Inherent in the offer of the performing arts is the assumption of risk taking, and along with it a variety of experiences and the potential for disappointment. Audiences are necessarily experiencing a different performance each time they interact with the arts organization, and they are unable to fully assess the nature of the experience prior to the performance (Holbrook and Hirschman 1982). Any set of artistic choices by the organization involve an element of risk, for which there may be a variety of responses from an audience – including the possibility that some choices may not align with the tastes or preferences of particular audience members. Except in the case of mainstream, commercial entertainment (which is not the focus of this chapter), reverting to predictable, tried-and-true formulas is not an option, making the path of innovation and creativity strewn with natural hazards for those presenting the performing arts. In the face of constrained availability and uncertain outcomes, arts managers have historically engaged in two strategies to promote the performing arts: persistent presence (McClellan et al. 1999) and the creation of small worlds (Gainer 1995). Persistent presence seeks to overcome the problem of constrained availability by maintaining the arts organization’s presence in the audience member’s mind during periods of limited performance availability. Ways to create persistent presence include presenting art that has the highest artistic merit and production values so that it resonates with audiences, endures in their memories, and leads to having them seek it out. Physical representations – including posters, logos, and signage, in addition to buildings and venues inhabited by arts organizations – also help to establish a very real sense of presence and persistent memory. Forming performances into a coherent season gives a sense of ongoing thrust, while other more idiosyncratic efforts can also play a role 143

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such as gregarious personalities that engage a broader public profile or critical reviews and media articles that generate buzz beyond a particular performance. All these efforts help to keep the organization and its art top-of-mind for consumers when it comes time to buy tickets and attend. Uncertain outcomes are often absorbed and processed within the context and creation of “small worlds” (Gainer 1995). People tend to enjoy the arts together, compare notes about what is worthy, attend in groups, and then debrief their experiences, either immediately, or as an ongoing conversation within the thread of their relationships. Social media is a natural outlet for sharing, planning, reminiscing, and comparing notes around the performing arts experience. Savvy arts organizations have sought to encourage this kind of group exchange for many reasons, one of which is to help soften the uncertainty by setting arts experiences within a social support context. One application of this is with hearing about the past experiences of other audience members, helping to make future experiences more known, predictable, and concrete, and thereby enabling the potential audience member to make a more informed, less uncertain decision to attend. The difficult brands framework can provide a guideline for navigating the plethora of Internet options available to arts organizations. A prominent feature of web-based materials is that they are always available, giving arts organizations the potential to engage audiences during times when performances are unavailable and to mitigate the uncertainty involved in choosing to attend an unknown performance. As web-based communications have evolved, so can arts organizations’ use of web-based communications to overcome the challenges of difficult brands.

Historical evolution of web approaches in the performing arts Arts organizations’ initial response to web-based options was to use them as an extension of traditional promotional tools, providing a new channel for one-way communication from the arts organization to the potential audience. Arts groups were quick to realize that they could replicate information in a website that was previously provided on posters, brochures, fliers, and programs. Freed from the constraints of printed material, the Web was (and still is) a centralized repository for information that could be provided to those coming in search. Similarly, email communications were an early means of enabling arts groups to send out reminders, promote events, and solicit donations – all one-way communications. This mindset with web communications is often represented as “Web 1.0.” An important shift happened when arts groups realized web-based media could actually assist them in enabling dialogue and engagement with the audience back to the arts organizations. As the Web evolved with two-way communication, audiences became (and still are) able to register their responses, requests, and impressions with arts organizations, enabling them to be more responsive and in touch with their audiences.This approach fitted well within the rubric of relationship marketing and realized a two-way street for digital information – often referred to as “Web 2.0.” The most recent evolution in web-based communication has enabled audience members to communicate amongst themselves. Particularly within the frame of social media – but also facilitated through a variety of online digital formats – people attending performances are able to compare notes, converse, and evaluate their performing arts experiences independent of arts organizations. This also enables the network of communicators to broaden beyond the traditional definition of an audience member to include critics, bloggers, and other influential voices, in addition to ordinary members of the audience who do not have a formal affiliation, but who are inclined to reach out. The emerging practice around these ideas can be termed “Web 3.0.”

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These three phases within the evolution have important implications for organizations as they strive to overcome the unique challenges of web-based communications in the performing arts.

Web 1.0 – creating a persistent online presence The most fundamental function of online activity for an arts organization is to provide a persistent presence that enables the organization to communicate with potential audience members before, between, and after performances. With its role in marketing and promotion, the direct lead-up to a performance is arguably the most critical function for web-based activity. The standard practice for a website is to answer basic questions such as: where, when, what, who, and how much? A clean and clear layout that guides the potential audience member through this goes a long way towards a successful web-based outcome. Many arts organizations have looked towards a more involved form of enticing audiences to attend. Certainly visuals (e.g. pictures, diagrams, colorful layout) help to increase the appeal of a particular performance. Other inclusions such as quotes pointing to prior acclaim, star-artist credentials, podcasts, blogs, and artistic content information, perform important marketing functions related to enticing an audience. While traditional promotion, advertising and marketing all have their place, the role of the arts marketing can also take a more nuanced role, particularly given the expanded potential with the Web. One perspective considers web-based performing arts promotion as something more akin to a paratext (Genette 1987), where enticement comes by conveying a sense of meaning, inviting the potential audience member to explore further (as opposed to walk away). While originally cited in the context of books and literature, the paratext notion has been applied to the study of movie previews which serve a function of marketing (Zanger 1998), but also embodying a sense of meaning and understanding around what the film will be about. Increasingly, performing arts organizations are turning to video (and other forms of previews) as a way of enticing audiences to attend, providing information about the works, the performers, and the context for the arts offering (Preece 2011). As the performance nears, the emphasis can shift toward the mechanics of taking in the offering. Sophisticated ticketing functions now enable audience members to select seats and pay directly online, ensuring access to the show and assurance around seating. Other performance functions include logistical matters such as directions, parking, building maps, nearby dining suggestions, and hotel accommodation. Some organizations arrange special events or functions, such as pre-show talks, social-hours, and post-show talkbacks, all of which necessarily get special web attention. Specific considerations for hearing-impaired or otherwise physically challenged audience members can also be addressed on the Web, along with more basic information such as time for doors-open and estimated length of the performance. Some arts organizations are even using the Web to offer enhanced services such as program notes, links to purchase a score or libretto, background information, and so on, in an effort to reduce the necessity to quickly digest the contents of a playbill in the minutes leading up to the performance. Once a performance is over, some arts organizations simply move on to the next event archiving web content. Others carefully present past events in a kind of scrapbook format enabling audience members to remember and reminisce about performances gone by. This can either serve as reminiscence to those who were in attendance, or a gentle nudge of regret to those who missed out. Key to the successful implementation of this strategy is to capitalize on the opportunity for persistent presence inherent in the Web being “always on.” Current and potential audience members can access web content day or night, and anytime during the year. The important

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consideration for staying top-of-mind, however, is providing content that will motivate people to access those web resources even when the theater is dark. Good web-based strategy will stretch user interest in both directions as far and as deep as possible before and after a performing arts event. A successful website can also reduce the uncertainty inherent in the arts by providing audience members with information about what the experience of the performance will be like prior to the curtain time. In anticipation of a performance or event, a good website will provide a solid rationale for why an arts event will be compelling and worthwhile. It entices and tantalizes, but also educates, deepens understanding, gives worthwhile background, and provides overall meaning. Knowing this to be the case, audience members become accustomed to returning time after time in anticipation of their events throughout the year. Reducing uncertainty through web-based media also enables audience members to opt out of performances they are unlikely to enjoy. While arts groups can become obsessed with attracting as large an audience as possible, it’s typically better to authentically promote the true nature of events as accurately as possible, as the negative effect of a disgruntled attendee arguably does more long-term damage than if they didn’t come at all.

Web 2.0 – closing the audience feedback loop An even more interesting development in recent years has been the efforts of performing arts organizations to actively engage audience members in post-performance dialogue around the art gone by. Traditionally, the role of engaging in dialogue about past performances has been the domain of the critic – those engaged by institutions such as newspapers and magazines to act as cultural gatekeepers for potential audience members. The importance of this critique varies by art form. For example, a play with a three-week run will live with the direct consequence of either negative or positive criticism more than an orchestra that performs a one-time performance on a monthly basis. However, in the digital era, the role of the traditional critic has been if not diminished, at least altered, as other voices have started to inhabit web content such as blogs and discussion boards. In the digital era, the number of professional and amateur critics sharing their views with potential audience members has increased exponentially. As of February 2011, there were at least 156 million public blogs available online (BlogPulse 2011), and many of these focus on the arts as primary content for their sites. One of the primary challenges of coping with critique in the digital era is the permanence of online content. While critic reviews published in newspapers or magazines become obsolete and literally disappear, reviews published on the Web maintain a persistent presence of their own and can remain continually available to audience members long after the performances they are critiquing are over (Dellarocas et al. 2007). In addition, organizations that could previously choose positive aspects of critic reviews to quote in their promotional materials must now cope with the potential for full text reviews being available to audience members at any time. To help potential audience members navigate this onslaught of opinion, some arts organizations are beginning to point to these various contributors by using their websites to direct audiences and potential audiences towards their commentary. Others are enabling a discussion of critique through a dedicated social media site ( Johnson and Preece 2012). Social media sites like Facebook enable arts organizations to communicate directly with their audience members by posing questions and inviting discussions about their performances. In one recent online case, a

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particular arts organization pointed to a less-than positive critical review from a news outlet and then asked their fans on Facebook if others who had seen the play agreed with the critic. Websites and social media sites also enable arts organizations to solicit post-performance feedback and critique from audience members and respond directly to audience members about their experience ( Johnson and Preece 2013). In simple form, this approach can be used as a means of identifying and recovering from service failures – such as lost tickets or rude patron encounters – that audience members may have experienced. In more refined approaches, this can serve to engage audience members in the performance experience during the times when they are not physically in the theater, and provide additional information to help potential audience members predict what the experience of a performance will be like. Candid debrief discussions about the relative merits of one performance or another can also normalize debate and critique as a healthy and engaging part of enjoying the performing arts and being part of an audience community that cares and thinks deeply about what they see and hear. This level of post-performance engagement can help to neutralize the downside of a negative response toward a given performance and provide the audience member with an incentive to return to their favorite web outlet to keep the conversation going, as well as an incentive to return to the organization for the next performance.

Web 3.0 – building online audience communities Beyond two-way communication between the organization and its audience members, organizations are seeing the potential to increase audience engagement through more active and deeper audience communication (Waters et al. 2009). Not only does the Web provide opportunities for the organization to reach large-scale audiences efficiently, it also enables audience members to reach out to and communicate with each other on a previously unknown scale (Dellarocas 2003). This provides a unique opportunity for arts organizations to encourage and enable their audience members to interact with each other. New online communication tools have increased individuals’ ability to communicate with each other about their consumption experiences (Godes and Mayzlin 2004). These communications are increasingly moving beyond simply reviewing or talking about audience members’ experiences attending arts performances. Consumers are using their consumption of arts products in general, including the music they listen to, the movies they see, the television shows they watch, and the books they read, to express their own identities in an online setting (Saenger et al. 2013). Consumer-to-consumer communications about the arts is taking on a whole new dimension. This increased communication will likely have an impact on arts organizations even if they do not engage directly with it. Word-of-mouth spread between consumers online has shown to have heightened effects compared with word-of-mouth spread in traditional, person-to-person settings, as each opinion has the potential to be communicated and re-communicated to large numbers of consumers through online networks (Chen and Xie 2008; Libai et al. 2010). Thus, one audience member’s critique of a performance can have much broader repercussions than previously. On the other hand, this increasing prevalence of opinion-sharing can create a more robust feeling of engagement as audiences bind themselves more deeply to the organization and to each other through active participation in the arts, as opposed to more traditional, passive observation (Russo et al. 2008). Gainer (1995) describes the performing arts experience as one in which audience members are transformed from individuals into a community.The social bonds that are

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formed through shared arts attendance extend beyond the performance to infiltrate the audience members’ interactions, communications, sometimes even self-image as an art lover. When these bonds include a particular artist or arts organization, they can rise to the level of a brand community (Muniz and O’Guinn 2001; Keller 2003). Brand communities extend beyond the consumer’s relationship with a particular organization to incorporate social bonds forged with other consumers based on a shared or common consumption of a brand, in this case the performances of a particular artist or arts organization. This shared consumption of and interest in the arts can become the foundation for the formation of new interpersonal relationships and social communities (McAlexander et al. 2002). These communities are beneficial to both audience members and organizations. Audience members who are engaged in a community will be more motivated to seek out opportunities to interact, increasing the likelihood that they will attend not only performances but also other events and opportunities to interact facilitated by the organization. Engaged audiences will also want to return to the organization’s websites to reminisce, to see what others thought of a performance, to communicate their own experiences, and to share in the community of art lovers and fans. The unique nature of social media provides a custom-made platform for facilitating these audience communities and enabling audience members to deepen their relationships with each other and with the organization. However, to be effective, these tools must be used carefully. The most effective communities are the ones that form organically, and efforts by the organization to force audience members to behave as a community are likely to result in failure. Arts organizations can take a lesson from the most famous and successful brand at developing communities – Harley Davidson. The effectiveness of their brand community strategy is based on a hands-off philosophy. The Harley Davidson company provides opportunities for community members to interact by sponsoring events, providing online media tools, and offering community members the opportunity to display their membership through wearing the company logo on their clothing (Schouten and McAlexander 1995). However, the decision to join the community as well as the functioning and activities of the individual communities and chapters around the world are determined completely by the consumers. Luckily, this is a challenge that arts organizations are already familiar with. Inherent in the production and presentation of the arts is the challenge to create a space, an environment, and an opportunity within which artists can create art. Arts organizations should apply the same philosophy to cultivating audience communities. As they do in their physical space, organizations can use their web-based tools to create an online space in which audience members are able to build an organic, audience-directed community surrounding the organization and its art. As with any arts event or opportunity, it then remains simply to invite the audience to participate.

Future directions Our understanding of effective web-based strategies for engaging audiences has evolved over time to incorporate changes in web-based technology, changes in marketing strategy, and changes in audience behavior. As the Web is likely to remain an ever-changing environment, it is essential that researchers and arts organizations continue to evolve and adapt. Evaluating webbased tools within an overall framework helps to prioritize their importance, allocate necessary resources towards their use, and see them within a longer organizational arc rather than the “flavor of the month.”

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If current trends continue, audience members will continue to expect more frequent updating of online tools to ensure the currency of information, more opportunities to express themselves and provide feedback to the organization, more ways to engage and interact with the organization and with each other and, above all, more and different ways to engage with the arts themselves. We are already living in an environment in which popular musicians can become world famous distributing their music only through YouTube, and Tweets can make or break a movie’s opening weekend. Audience members are likely to continue to want to engage with their artistic experiences before, during, and after attending performances and to communicate their experiences, ideas, and artistic expressions in an online setting. Arts organizations must be sure not to be left behind as the online artistic environment continues to move forward.

Further reading Gainer, B. (1995) “Ritual and Relationships: Interpersonal Influences on Shared Consumption,” Journal of Business Research 32, 253–260. (This paper has become one of the seminal papers in the arts management literature, and is also central to the rationale for encouraging social media applications.) McClellan, A., Rebello-Rao, D., and Wyszomirski, M. (1999) “Resisting Invisibility: Arts Organizations and the Pursuit of Persistent Presence,” Nonprofit Management and Leadership 10(2), 169–183. (This paper lays out the basic argument for persistent presence and provides the basis for an ongoing, steady web presence.) Preece, S. (2011) “Coming Soon to a Live Theatre Near You: Performing Arts Trailers as Paratexts,” International Journal of Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Marketing 16, 23–35. (This paper provides a theoretical frame for web-based arts promotion, moving beyond specific tools and into a conceptual analysis.) Preece, S. and Johnson, J. W. (2011) “Web Strategies and the Performing Arts: A Solution to Difficult Brands,” International Journal of Arts Management 14(1), 19–31. (This paper provides a deeper insight into the problem of difficult brands, providing empirical evidence for current practice, and sets the stage for an overall web-based strategy.) Waters, R., Burnett, E., Lamm, A., and Lucas, J. (2009) “Engaging Stakeholders through Social Networking: How Nonprofit Organizations are Using Facebook,” Public Relations Review 35, 102–106. (This paper gives pragmatic direction to the practice of social media and a conceptual background for specific applications.)

References Barnhurst, K. (2012) “Newspapers Experiment Online: Story Content after a Decade on the Web,” Journalism, 1–19. BlogPulse (2011) The Nielsen Company, http://www.blogpulse.com, retrieved February 17, 2011. Chen, Y. and Xie, J. (2008) “Online Consumer Review: Word-of-Mouth as a New Element of Marketing Communication Mix,” Management Science 54(3), 477–491. Dellarocas, C. (2003) “The Digitization of Word of Mouth: Promise and Challenges of Online Feedback Mechanisms,” Management Science 49(10), 1407–1424. Dellarocas, C, Zhang, X., and Awad, N. F. (2007) “Exploring the Value of Online Product Reviews in Forecasting Sales: The Case of Motion Pictures,” Journal of Interactive Marketing 21(4), 23–45. Fournier, S. (1998) “Consumers and Their Brands: Developing Relationship Theory in Consumer Research,” Journal of Consumer Research 24, 343–373. Gainer, B. (1995) “Ritual and Relationships: Interpersonal Influences on Shared Consumption,” Journal of Business Research 32, 253–260. Genette, G. (1987) Paratexts: Thresholds of Interpretations, tr. J. E. Lewin, New York: Cambridge University Press, org. Seuils. Godes, D. and Mayzlin, D. (2004) “Using Online Conversations to Study Word-of-Mouth Communication,” Marketing Science 23(4), 545–560.

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Stephen B. Preece and Jennifer Wiggins Johnson Harrison, P. and Hartley, N. (2007) “The Case of ‘Difficult’ Brands,” Journal of Product and Brand Management 16(4), 286–287. Hartley, J. (2004) “The New Economy, Creativity and Consumption,” International Journal of Cultural Studies 7(1), 5–7. Holbrook, M. B. and Hirschman, E. C. (1982) “The Experiential Aspects of Consumption: Consumer Fantasies, Feelings and Fun,” Journal of Consumer Research 9, 132–140. Johnson, J. W. and Preece, S. (2013) “From Critical Reviews to Audience Dialogue: Responding to Critique in the Digital Age,” working paper. Keller, K. (2003) Strategic Brand Management: Building, Measuring, and Managing Brand Equity, Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall. Libai, B., Bolton, R., Bugel, M. S., de Ruyter, K., Götz, O., Risselada, H., and Stephen, A. T. (2010) “Customer-to-Customer Interactions: Broadening the Scope of Word of Mouth Research,” Journal of Service Research 13(3), 267–282. McAlexander, J., Schouten, J. W., and Koenig, H. F. (2002) “Building Brand Community,” Journal of Marketing 66(1), 38–54. McClellan, A., Rebello-Rao, D., and Wyszomirski, M. (1999) “Resisting Invisibility: Arts Organizations and the Pursuit of Persistent Presence,” Nonprofit Management and Leadership 10(2), 169–183. Muniz, A. and O’Guinn, T. (2001) “Brand Community,” Journal of Consumer Research 27(4), 412–432. Nantel, J. and Georgie, V. (2007) “Consumption, Culture and Information Technology from an Interpretivist Perspective: What Happens when the Arts go Online?” 9th International Conference on Arts and Cultural Management (AIMAC),Valencia, Spain. Preece, S. (2011) “Coming Soon to a Live Theatre Near You: Performing Arts Trailers as Paratexts,” International Journal of Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Marketing 16, 23–35. Preece, S. and Johnson, J. W. (2011) “Web Strategies and the Performing Arts: A Solution to Difficult Brands,” International Journal of Arts Management 14(1), 19–31. Russo, A., Watkins, J., Kelly, L., and Chan, S. (2008) “Participatory Communication with Social Media,” Curator January, 21–31. Saenger, C., Thomas, V. L., and Johnson, J. W. (2013) “Consumption-Focused Self-Expression Word of Mouth: A New Scale and its Role in Consumer Research,” forthcoming in Psychology & Marketing. Schouten, J. W. and McAlexander, J. (1995) “Subcultures of Consumption: An Ethnography of New Bikers,” Journal of Consumer Research 22, 43–61. Waters, R., Burnett, E., Lamm, A., and Lucas, J. (2009) “Engaging Stakeholders through Social Networking: How Nonprofit Organizations are Using Facebook,” Public Relations Review 35, 102–106. Zanger, A. (1998) “Next on your Screen: The Double Identity of the Trailer,” Semiotica 120, 207–230.

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15 ARTS MARKETING AND WEB 2.0-BASED AUDIENCE DEVELOPMENT INITIATIVES Anne-Marie Hede

Introduction Web 2.0 platforms provide people with the means to communicate with each other and to share their ideas, opinions and expertise on topics of interest to them and in ways that have not been possible before. The unique feature of Web 2.0 is its ability to enable two-way communication, which in an era of the service dominant logic can facilitate collaboration and enhance co-creation (Vargo and Lusch 2004). For example, using web-based platforms, information can be sourced directly from the ‘crowd’ for new product development enabling consumers to provide feedback to organizations about their market offerings. Furthermore, Web 2.0 tools facilitate the development of brand communities where collaboration among members creates specific, or linking, value from the brand–consumer relationship (Cova and Cova 2002). Across the arts sector, the deployment of Web 2.0 and its associated tools has been somewhat patchy (López et al. 2010). Indeed, López et al. (2010) found that even while museums were early adopters of the Internet they have been slow to adopt Web 2.0 for their marketing communications. This is surprising given the rich visual and textual content that the arts sector and its consumers have to share, and the intangible nature of the market offering. The apparent hesitancy of many arts organizations to engage consumers in online dialogues with their audiences has been explained by a desire on the part of arts organizations to preserve their authority – as learned institutions (Russo et al. 2007). In this context, risks may be posed to their expertise or their standing in the community – if they step into the new world of two-way online communications where the ‘voice’ of the consumer can be as powerful as that of the organization. Nonetheless, there are many arts organizations that have broken through such barriers and are using Web 2.0 tools. Kidd (2011) concludes that while museums, for example, were quick to adopt Web 2.0’s social media tools for marketing communications, for the museum sector at least, their adoption has been rudimentary in approach and not without its pitfalls. Hede and Kellett (2012) note a similar approach to the adoption of Web 2.0 across a number of festivals, and note that an unplanned use of Web 2.0 tools, such as Facebook and Twitter, placed added pressures on these organizations which are often already under stress and are described as pulsating (Hanlon and Jago 2000).

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So, how can arts organizations capitalize on Web 2.0 to engage their audiences and achieve their organizational objectives in relation to customer engagement? The purpose of this chapter is to shed light on various approaches that are being used by arts organizations to create relationships and conversations around their market offerings and to explore the strategies they are using to do so. Using a purposeful sample of arts organizations, the chapter now follows with examples of arts marketing activities that employ Web 2.0 and its tools. Examples are provided from Te Papa Museum, the Melbourne Writers’ Festival, Pozible and Opera Australia. After describing some of these organizations’ initiatives, the chapter summarizes key issues for arts organizations to consider as they aim to create relationships and dialogues with audiences using Web 2.0 and its associated platforms.

Case Study One: Te Papa, New Zealand – the giant squid and words to win Te Papa is New Zealand’s national museum in the capital, Wellington, with collections that span five areas: art, history, Pacific, Ma¯ori, and natural environment. In 2010/11, 1.3 million people visited Te Papa. The museum states that it aims to invest, learn and empower its constituents, and one of Te Papa’s key priorities is: ‘Go digital’ – to use communication technologies to achieve its strategic priorities while being aware ‘that communication is two-way, and built on trust and transparency’. Te Papa’s blog, which commenced in 2008 and is launched from the main web page, opens with the following statement of its purpose of intent: Te Papa is a busy place – a really busy place. We’ve set up this blog to give us a space where we can tell you even more of our stories, as they happen. And where you can tell us some of yours − we’d really like to hear from you. While the blog aims to ‘give voice to our experts and collaborators’, Te Papa cautions that views on the blog may not be the views of the museum. Today, Te Papa features 18 bloggers but since the blog’s launch, Te Papa has had a total of 63 bloggers with a diverse range of interests and expertise. Of the 18 bloggers that are currently featured, 11 of these are female and most of the bloggers are curators and scientists working at Te Papa. Two of the bloggers assist to manage the digital assets at Te Papa. Most blogs are presented with a small amount of text with images used in between the small blocks of text. Noticeably, many of the blogs feature images of visitors in situ. In addition, many of the blogs are focused on young visitors and the exhibitions/activities they are involved in. Most blogs create one to two comments, and but most are not commented on at all. Two blogs are particularly active in terms of audience engagement.The first is a series of blogs on Te Papa’s exhibition of a ‘colossal squid’.The series of blogs commenced in 2008 just prior to the opening of the exhibition (which ran till August 2013). The blogs follow the making and progress of the exhibition, provide information about the giant squid, and document how the exhibition is impacting culture in New Zealand. For example, one blog focused on New Zealand’s newly released stamps and coins that feature the giant squid.To date,Te Papa has posted 30 blogs about the giant squid that have on average attracted 4.3 comments per blog. The second blog, entitled ‘I will need words: collecting great quotes by NZ artists’ was initiated by the Curator of Contemporary Art. She invited the audience to submit their favourite quotes made by well-known New Zealand artists.The invitation, with an opportunity to win a book from Te Papa’s Press, created a conversation of 12 comments between the curator and five participants.

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Mid-way through the conversation, the curator commented on each of the quotes submitted by participants and at the conclusion of the blog, the winner of the book was announced. Following the announcement of the winner, the winner posted a blog onto two of their WordPress blogs potentially disseminating information about Te Papa to a wider audience.

Case Study Two: Melbourne Writers’ Festival – maintaining interest and creating anticipation The Melbourne Writers Festival (MWF) was launched in 1986 and is held in August/September each year. The MWF has developed an extensive program that involves novelists, playwrights, poets, screenwriters, journalists, songwriters and bloggers, or ‘anyone who’s part of the world of words’. These participants engage in discussions, debates, readings, film screenings, interviews, literary banquets, performances, workshops and book launches. In addition the MWF has developed a program targeted at primary and secondary students. The MWF has had an active Facebook page and MWF blog since early 2009. Over this period, the MWF has attracted over 6,500 Facebook ‘fans’ and over 300 blogs have been posted by official bloggers. The MWF currently has three official bloggers, who are well respected in Australian literary circles. However, like Te Papa, the MWF cautions that the views of the bloggers may not necessarily be those of the MWF. A review of the blog shows that they are searchable by month as well as by category (for example, by authors, book reviews, MWF events, MWF information). Closer analysis of the blogs shows that most of them have not attracted comments. Noticeably, the blogs categorized under MWF ‘event’ and ‘information’ had few comments, which may be a function of the introduction of a mobile app in 2012 where audiences were able to access practical information about the MWF. However, there were a number of blogs that attracted four or more comments. These blogs are related to authors and/or book reviews. For events that are held once a year like the MWF, the challenge is to maintain interest in the market offering all year round rather than only when the event is being held. Facebook provides a platform for the MWF to communicate with its fans. Indeed, what is noticeable about the MWF Facebook page is that it remains active during the entire year and not just around the time of the MWF. In the months leading up to the MWF and following the MWF, links to festival performances or program activities, and competitions to win tickets to debates, readings and movies, are announced via Facebook. In particular, in the few months leading up to the MWF, Facebook posts provide information about the progress of the MWF’s program and provide snippets about the forthcoming event.

Case Study Three: Pozible – not just crowdfunding for arts initiatives Crowdfunding has become a popular means of funding arts projects. A number of crowdfunding sites now enable arts organizations and individuals to present their creative projects to a worldwide audience and to raise funds to support them. For example, Pozible is an Australian-based crowdfunding site, established in 2010; it is similar to the US-based Kickstarter and Indiegogo. The idea behind these websites is that arts organizations/individuals offer something in exchange, or a reward, for a pledge of funds that is put toward a target amount of funds to be raised. In 2012, Pozible facilitated nearly six million dollars of pledges from 89 countries to over 1,900 Australianbased projects. The success rate for raising the targeted funds was nearly 50 per cent. Examples of successfully funded projects and rewards/pledges are detailed in Table 15.1.

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Anne-Marie Hede Table 15.1 Pozible – examples of successfully funded arts projects and rewards/pledges Project

Description

Targeted funds

‘Shopping’

Distribution of $1,250 short film

Vita Adam

Album fundraiser

$10,452

Flamenco Festival Hobart

Festival

$3,520

Rewards

• $25 plus: thank you on Facebook and on CineDreams website, copy of CD • $50 plus: thank you on Facebook and on CineDreams website, copy of CD, canvas shopping bag • $100 plus: thank you on Facebook and on CineDreams website, copy of CD, canvas shopping bag, thank you from Director • $200 plus: thank you on Facebook and on CineDreams website, copy of CD, canvas shopping bag, thank you from Director, thank you from faux actor on Hollywood Walk of Fame • $30 plus: an exclusive signed poster of yours truly, to frame and hang (‘it can go straight to the pool room’) • $50 plus: an exclusive signed poster + a free download of the album before the release! • $100 plus: an exclusive signed poster + a free download of the album + a signed copy of my EP, Real • $200 plus: all of the above + a signed copy of my new album before the official launch! AMAZE!!!!!! • $500 plus: all of the above + a VIP pass to the official launch party of the album, here in Melbourne! PARTAY!!!!! • $1,000 plus: all of the above + DINNER with ME … and a few of my friends, here in Melbourne. Dang I love to eat!!!!! • $1,500 plus: all of the above + an exclusive, unplugged performance by my keys/bv band member, Chantelle, and I … at your home or your next special event • $150 plus: free entry in the Hobart Flamenco Festival performances and Weekend Pass to attend all the workshops (over eight to choose from – Guitar, Percussion, Dance and Singing for Beginners and Advanced levels) during 2013 Flamenco Festival • $250 plus: classes with Marina Tamayo in Sydney or 3 private classes

Number of supporters 9

43

18

While the primary purpose of Pozible is to raise funds there are other layers to Pozible that create relationships between arts organizations and individuals. First, Pozible facilitates the development of networks between arts organizations. For example, ScreenWest, a Western Australian screen funding agency, has pledged a total of $250,000 to match three dollars for every one dollar pledged by the public to support digital projects in Western Australia. This collaboration creates

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a network of all the arts projects that are seeking funding initiatives and their Pozible supporters with Screen West. The collaboration has potential to extend Screen West’s network while raising awareness of Screen West via access to Pozible’s 16,000 Facebook fans. More importantly, while the notion of crowdfunding relies on a transactional exchange – that is, a pledge for a reward – it has potential to create emotional bonds between the arts organization and its supporters. While the supporters form a temporary group, with a specific goal and a shared purpose, a number of studies suggest that feelings of trust and connectedness develop in temporary groups (Terrion and Ashforth 2002). One project in particular that demonstrates the potential of the temporary group is the feature film production, Crime and Punishment, which set out to raise AU$20,000 in September 2012. In doing so the project initiators sought to leverage the emotional attachment that the supporters developed towards the arts project.They provided supporters with instructions as to how they could show their connection with the market offering this using other Web 2.0 platforms: 1. Post on Facebook: copy and paste the link to the Crime and Punishment Pozible campaign on your Facebook wall. ‘I’ve joined this crowdfunding campaign. My support is helping make this exciting film (www.pozible.com/crimeandpunishment). They’ve got till 2 January 2013 to raise $20,000 … all or nothing. Every dollar you can spare helps.’ 2. Email: send an email to a bunch of your friends telling them about the campaign, giving them this link: www.pozible.com/crimeandpunishment 3. Like: like the Crime and Punishment Facebook page: www.facebook.com/crimeandpunishmentfilm 4. Follow: follow us on Twitter: www.twitter.com/cpfilm (http://www.pozible.com/index.php/archive/index/12198/description/0/0) The desired response, to recommend the arts project to others, relies on the supporters’ pride about being involved with the project as well as their loyalty to the arts project. Since launching the Pozible project, the feature film’s Facebook ‘Likes’ increased from around 16 in September in 2012 to over 300 by the end of 2012. In addition, the target of $20,000 was met from 159 supporters highlighting that this project moved favourable responses to the project to an emotional level and encouraged actual behaviour.

Case Study Four: Opera Australia – motivations and production evaluations Opera Australia is Australia’s national opera company – its mission is to ‘enrich Australia’s cultural life with exceptional opera and present opera that excites audiences and sustains and develops the art form’. Opera Australia produces over 600 opera performances annually, including two seasons in Sydney and Melbourne, concerts and free outdoor performances and in schools across Australia. It also is involved in broadcasting live and recorded opera performances on radio and TV, and in cinemas. Opera Australia commenced its blog in December 2010, and with a total of 123 posts by Opera Australia or its bloggers to date, the blogs are searchable via a database.The home page for the blog launches into the latest blog without an introduction to the purpose of the blog or to the bloggers. The blogs are very detailed with text, images and, on some of them, video. Almost half of the blogs have not attracted comments, and most of the remaining blogs each attract between one and three comments. As mentioned by the outgoing Opera Australia Marketing and Communications Director in a blog interview with her in July 2012, social media is ‘enormously time-intensive’. However, 155

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she indicates that social media provides an opportunity to gather information about, and from, the market with a quick turnaround of time meaning that the data gathered have currency. It is perhaps in response to these issues that Opera Australia has used its blog in an innovative manner to create conversations around opera. For example, in August 2011, Opera Australia launched the ‘What you think’ series which invited audiences to comment on Opera Australia’s productions. All of these blogs followed a standard template. First, the blog contained an embedded video of the opera.The purpose of the blog was then stated and audiences were invited to participate in the blog, with the opportunity to win tickets to an opera performance in 2012: This blog serves as a place to voice your thoughts, ask your questions, and post your reviews of the show. Posting a review enters you into our Weekly Review Competition, with the most insightful review each week receiving two tickets to an opera of choice in 2012. Following this, information is provided, usually in a couple of paragraphs, about the opera storyline and performers. Finally, links are available to ticket sales. As compared with the usual blogs, which are not part of this series, these blogs attracted a greater number of comments with an average of 11.25 comments per blog. In addition, these blogs were ‘Liked’ on Facebook and also Tweeted on Twitter. As can be seen from Table 15.2, the most commented on operas were the Magic Flute, Don Giovanni and Turandot. In addition to this initiative, Opera Australia used the blog, in conjunction with Facebook and Twitter, for two other initiatives. In collaboration with the Queensland Performing Arts Company (QPAC), a concept known as ‘Tweetseats’ was used to promote QPAC’s performance of The Magic Flute. The blog audience was invited to Tweet about the Magic Flute with a chance to win tickets to a performance and to be greeted by one of Opera Australia’s team in the theatre’s foyer. The blog itself was Tweeted 43 times, which as can be seen from Table 15.2, outperformed the ‘What you think’ series in total. In another initiative, Opera Australia used their web-based blog to document the results of a Facebook competition. In late April 2012, Opera Australia invited its Facebook friends to post why and/or how they got ‘hooked’ on opera.While the competition only prompted 50 responses from the 6,000 plus friends of Opera Australia, Opera Australia used the information gathered Table 15.2 Opera Australia: ‘What you think?’ blog series Opera

Blog launch

Magic Flute Don Giovanni Turandot Merry Widow La Traviata La Boheme Macbeth Lakme Of Mice and Men Marriage of Figaro 2012 The Love of the Nightingale Cosi Fan Tutte

January 2012 September 2011 January 2012 August 2011 October 2011 September 2011 September 2011 August 2011 November 2011 February 2012 September 2011 March 2012

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Comments

Facebook ‘Likes’

Tweets

33 28 26 11 10 8 7 4 3 3 2 0

3 48 8 10 9 17 2 4 0 1 4 1

12 5 7 3 5 4 3 0 1 1 1 0

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from the posts to develop a blog launched from their webpage. On the blog, which was entitled ‘10 Ways to Get Hooked on Opera’, the verbatim text was grouped into categories and hyperlinks were added from key words within. In addition, images and videos of operas were embedded into the blog, which specifically related to the comments that were made by participants. Despite only generating one comment, the blog produced 120 Facebook ‘Likes’ and 21 Tweets further promoting Opera Australia to a wider audience than just the competition’s participants.

Lessons for (new) Web 2.0 players A number of lessons can be learned from the four case studies presented in this chapter. They provide insights into the various ways in which Web 2.0 and its associated platforms can be used to enthuse audiences and mobilize them to action. The small selection of activities documented in this chapter highlight the need for the integration of a suite of social media communications, delivering relevant and succinct information, employing user-generated content in an innovative manner, using Web 2.0 resources efficiently, developing deep relationships with audiences, coproducing the market offering and co-creating the value of the experience, and accepting that Web 2.0 is a world of exchange.

Integration of social media communications Marketing theory and practice highlights the importance of integrating marketing communications across the various communication channels (Christensen et al. 2008). Keller (2009) suggests that marketers must make sure that their interactive marketing communication activities are designed to be as effective and efficient as possible and well integrated with other on- and off-line marketing communication activities. What emerges in the above case studies is that arts organizations need to use a number of Web 2.0 channels simultaneously to leverage the penetration of the marketing communications in market segments. This was evident in Crime and Punishment’s use of Pozible and particularly with Opera Australia’s initiatives.

Related, succinct and user-generated content Critically, content on blogs needs to be related to the core market offering and ideally it needs to be succinct. The MWF blog highlights how when information was specifically related to writing, the audience responded and contributed to the blog because they became the experts – their opinion, right or wrong, was valuable.This follows trends in other industries, for example in tourism, where consumers generate material and contribute to blogs because of their personal experiences with the tourism product (Schmallegger and Carson 2008). Consumers are increasingly willing to offer their opinions and value the opinions of other similar consumers, which is a fundamental premise of word-of-mouth recommendations (Brown and Reingen 1987). Hence, providing consumers with opportunities to air their opinions and to share them with others is an effective means of creating ‘conversations’ about market offerings in the arts and to develop relationships with audiences and within audiences.

Using Web 2.0 resources efficiently Opera Australia’s ‘What you think’ blog series initiative highlights the benefit of developing a template for Web 2.0-based marketing communications. Marketing communications using Web

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2.0 should be treated like other marketing communications strategies in that they have a purpose and desired outcomes. That is, the value of the resources involved in delivering marketing communications messages in Web 2.0 environments needs to be understood in order for the strategies to be evaluated. With organizations and individuals in the arts often resource-poor, the need to develop tools that place boundaries on the extent, and how,Web 2.0 tools are used is an important step in marketing management. Such an approach was evident when Opera Australia cleverly used its intellectual resources and developed a template for a series of blogs.Thus, while there was an initial investment made around devising the template, because it formed the basis of a number of blogs, the investment was amortized over a period of time and resources were used effectively.

Deep relationships with audiences As Facebook and Twitter have become increasingly popular, ‘Likes’ and ‘Shares’ on Facebook and Twitter provide an indication of popularity. In a recent analysis of the impact of asking questions on Facebook pages, Max Woolf concluded that asking questions of audiences on blogs correlates with fewer ‘Likes’ but incites a larger number of comments (http://minimaxir.com/2012/10/ questions-equals-reponses/). As developing deeper and more meaningful relationships with audiences becomes more important, blogs – whether they are off websites or are micro-blogs – should be developed to invite responses from audiences rather than just ‘Likes’. In this way, lurkers, or audience members who read web-based material but do not contribute to it, can become what Preece et al. (2004) refer to as ‘fruitful’ and be enticed into the domain to contribute to blogs in a more visible manner. As Web 2.0 tools are designed for two-way communication and consumer action, to take advantage of the opportunities that Web 2.0 provides to engage audiences, arts organizations must invite audiences to participate in discussions explaining the purpose, rules and benefits of the engagement. Te Papa’s blog provides a good example of how readers of the blog were welcomed to contribute to the blog and informed of the rationale for the blog. This was also evident in Opera Australia’s opening to the ‘What you think’ series.

Co-producing the market offering and co-creating the value of the experience Web 2.0’s unique feature is that it enables consumers to contribute content in two-way exchanges of communication. Opera Australia’s ‘What you think’ series of blogs and their invitation for Facebook audiences to share their personal experiences about their introduction to opera demonstrates how the audience’s cultural capital can be used to generate further content. In addition, these initiatives highlight how simple initiatives like these can bring new information into the organization and assist it to understand its audience better.When Opera Australia asked audience members about their personal experiences via Facebook, it generated more responses than expected.To leverage this response, Opera Australia created a blog that summarized the responses conveying its enthusiasm for the rich content that the audience provided Opera Australia. Similarly,Te Papa, when in the process of developing a new exhibition, called to the audience for its expertise. Like Opera Australia,Te Papa’s curator acknowledged the expertise of the audience. These examples highlight how Web 2.0 initiatives have potential for arts organizations and their audiences to co-produce the marketing offering and co-create value from the experience.

A world of exchange In an early study on the digital economy, Kozinets (1999) suggested that the simple marketing rule that was emerging was that networks are created and developed when things are given 158

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away. However, what emerged in three of the case studies above is that in a Web 2.0 environment, conversations and relationships eventuate when exchanges occur. For Opera Australia, giving CDs away meant that audience members offered information about their entrée into opera; supporters gave funds to Crime and Punishment with Crime and Punishment reciprocating – providing rewards for different levels of support. For Te Papa, its quest to find quotes for a forthcoming exhibition in its ‘I will need words initiative: collecting great quotes by NZ artists’ blog exchanged favourite quotes for a chance to win a book published by Te Papa.

Conclusion This chapter examines four case studies to demonstrate a range of approaches that can be used to leverage the benefits of using Web 2.0 tools for arts organizations and their audiences. It should be recognized that the breadth and number of the case studies in this chapter provides only a snapshot of the types of activities that arts organizations are using to develop relationships with their audiences. Many others are evident and further documentation of these would be useful. As a marketing communications tool, Web 2.0 and its ever-growing range of platforms provide the infrastructure for arts organizations to communicate with audiences and to create two-way conversations. However, the task of communicating in this environment can be daunting, particularly for arts organizations that have limited resources. The chapter highlights the need for planning and scoping out of marketing communications using Web 2.0 and that adopting an integrated approach to on- and off-line marketing communications is needed for effective and efficient use of resources. Research is needed in this area of arts marketing to inform organizations and individuals working in this space as to how they can develop relationships with existing audiences and create relationships with new stakeholders at the organizational and individual levels using Web 2.0 platforms.

References Brown, J. J., and Reingen, P. (1987). Social ties and word-of mouth referral behaviour. Journal of Consumer Research, 14(December), 350–362. Christensen, L. T., Fırat, A. F., and Torp, S. (2008). The organisation of integrated communications: toward flexible integration. European Journal of Marketing, 42(3/4), 423–452. Cova, B., and Cova,V. (2002). Tribal marketing: the tribalisation of society and its impact on the conduct of marketing. European Journal of Marketing, 36(5/6), 595–620. Hanlon, C., and Jago, L. (2000). Pulsating sporting events: an organisation structure to optimise performance. Paper presented at the Events Beyond 2000: Setting the Agenda, Sydney. Hede, A.-M., and Kellett, P. (2012). Building online brand communities: exploring the benefits, challenges and risks in the Australian Event Sector. Journal of Vacation Marketing, 18( July), 239–250. Keller, L. K. (2009). Building strong brands in a modern marketing communications environment. Journal of Marketing Communications, 15(2–3), 139–155. Kidd, J. (2011). Enacting engagement online: framing social media use for the museum. Information Technology and People, 24(1), 64–77. Kozinets, R. V. (1999). E-tribalized marketing? The strategic implications of virtual communities of consumption. European Management Journal, 17(3), 252–264. López, X., Margapoti, I., Maragliano, R., and Bove, G. (2010). The presence of Web 2.0 tools on museum websites: a comparative study between England, France, Spain, Italy, and the USA. Museum Management and Curatorship, 25(2), 235–249. Preece, J., Nonnecke, B., and Andrews, D. (2004). The top 5 reasons for lurking: improving community experiences for everyone. Computers in Human Behavior, 2, 201–223. Russo, A., Watkins, J., and Chan, S. (2007). Look who’s talking. MAG (Museum and Gallery Services New South Wales), 2, 14–15.

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Schmallegger, D., and Carson, D. (2008). Blogs in tourism: changing approaches to information exchange. Journal of Vacation Marketing, 14, 99–110. Terrion, J. L., and Ashforth, B. E. (2002). From ‘I’to ‘we’: the role of putdown humor and identity in the development of a temporary group. Human Relations, 55(1), 55–88. Vargo, S. L., and Lusch, R. F. (2004). Evolving to a new dominant logic for marketing. Journal of Marketing, 68 ( January), 1–17.

Blogs Melbourne Writers’ Festival: http://mwfblog.com.au/ Opera Australia: http://blog.opera-australia.org.au/ Pozible: http://www.pozible.com/ Te Papa: http://blog.tepapa.govt.nz/

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16 USING SOCIAL MEDIA TO ENHANCE THE CUSTOMER ATTENDANCE EXPERIENCE Bonita Kolb

Introduction Over the past two decades significant research has been conducted on the issue of arts attendance. Many government and other organizations regularly conduct surveys that track how many people attend traditional high art activities by factors such as age, gender, education level and ethnicity. Cultural organizations have used this research to focus their efforts on increasing attendance by developing marketing campaigns using welcoming messages that communicate benefits thought attractive to specific demographic groups. However, in the USA the latest data show that the attendance problem is not specific to single demographic groups, as the percentage of the population attending traditional, or benchmark, cultural events is now declining overall. This is particularly true in regard to age. Where in the past it was common to refer to the aging of the audience, cultural organizations are now faced with the fact that the percentage attending arts events is shrinking for all age groups. Therefore it is now time to rethink the emphasis that has been placed on traditional promotional methods and messages alone as the solution to the attendance problem. Instead the attendance decline should be understood to be the result of a fundamental change in how people choose, consume and, now, create products, including cultural products. These changes have resulted from new communications technology, often classified together under the term social media, and a resulting change in how people purchase cultural products and view cultural hierarchy. The new technology allows one individual to easily communicate to the public their own opinion about cultural products. As a as result, consumers can market the product more effectively, either positively or negatively, than the cultural organization. Social media technology also allows people to create and share their own art creations, whether a photograph, a video clip or a blog posting. This has changed the public’s view of cultural hierarchy because it allows everyone to be an artist. The widespread use of communication technology presents cultural organizations with two broad challenges: how to use social media to build a relationship with the public so as to communicate their message; and how to allow consumers to participate in the creation of the cultural product. This chapter will first address the decline in attendance. It will then explain

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how changes in communication technology have resulted in an organization’s inability to control its marketing message. The use of social media to produce and share art, causing a redefinition of “artist”, will then be addressed. Finally a model for social media use by cultural organizations will be explored.

Attendance decline among all age groups Every five years the US National Endowment for the Arts (NEA) conducts a statistically valid Survey of Public Participation in the Arts (SPPA). The survey asks correspondents about their participation in a variety of benchmark art forms including jazz, classical music, opera, ballet, plays and art museums. While the most recent data set is from 2008, this information is still useful if it is contrasted with earlier years. An analysis of the NEA SPPA data reveals three separate issues (NEA 2008). First, the average age of attendance has been increasing for all art forms. Second, and of concern for the future of cultural organizations, is the fact that attendance has been declining most among the young. Third, and of immediate concern, is the decline in attendance for audience members aged 45–54, which has always been considered the prime years for attendance. From 1992 until 2008 the data reveal a decline in attendance by those under 25. This age group is sometimes called the “connected generation” ( Johnson 2006). For them technology has always been a part of their lives. This has affected their choice of products including attending cultural events. Analysis of the data reveals the rate of decline in young attenders from 1992 to 2008 (Table 16.1). Jazz has seen the steepest rate of decline of 58 percent. Attendance at classical music has declined at a rate of 37 percent. The rate of decline among the young for opera has been 40 percent. The base of attendance by the young at ballet is so small that the change is insignificant. Plays have seen a 23 percent and ballet a 36 percent rate of decline in young attenders from 1992 to 2008. Only art museums have seen an increase of 1 percent, but this is also statistically insignificant. The percentage decline of young people attending benchmark art events has been dramatic. Nevertheless it has often been argued that this is not a problem. As these young people age, it is argued that they will then start to attend. However, an examination of change in attendance among older people aged 45–54 shows their attendance rate is also declining (Table 16.2). Opera and plays have seen rates of decline in attendance of over 40 percent among those who historically have attended the most. Jazz, classical music and ballet have rates of decline over 30 percent. Even art museums, which posted a very small gain among the 18–24 age group, had a rate of decline of 29 percent among the older age group that should be prime attenders. If this decline among those aged 45–54 continues, it means attendance will go from being a concern to a crisis. Table 16.1 Percentage of audience aged 18–24, attending arts events Age 18–34 Jazz Classical music Opera Plays Ballet Art museums

% in 1992

% in 2008

17.5 11.0 2.0 10.7 3.9 22.7

7.3 6.9 1.2 8.2 2.5 22.9

Note: *Statistically insignificant.

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Change −10.2 −4.1 −0.8* −2.5 −1.4 +.02*

% Rate −58% −37% −40%* −23% −36% +1%*

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Table 16.2 Percentage of audience aged 45–54, attending arts events Age 45–54 Jazz Classical music Opera Plays Ballet Art museums

% in 1992 13.9 15.2 4.0 15.2 5.1 32.9

% in 2008 9.8 10.2 2.4 8.7 3.2 23.3

Change

% Rate

−4.1 −5.0 −1.6 −6.5 −1.9 −9.6

−30% −33% −40% −43% −37% −29%

There has also been widespread concern regarding the lack of ethnic attendance at the arts. An analysis of the SPPA 2008 attendance data shows that the attendance rate of whites for each of the four benchmark art forms is higher than their percentage of the population (Table 16.3). Conversely the attendance percentage for Hispanics is considerably lower than their percentage in the population. The same is true of African-Americans except for the slightly higher attendance at jazz concerts. However there is no reason to believe that the effort to attract attendance by ethnic groups will be successful if the audience for the cultural product overall is declining.

Participation versus attendance Some researchers have proposed that too much attention has been spent analyzing data on attendance at benchmark events as a means of understanding people’s involvement with art. As a result, there is a belief that age and ethnicity determines attendance and that the young and minority ethnic groups lack cultural involvement. However, if attendance at non-benchmark arts events is compared by ethnicity the difference in attendance rates between white and ethnic groups diminishes (Brown and Novak-Leonard 2011). Studies have also shown that young people and ethnic groups view art and culture using media (NEA 2010). Young people and ethnic groups are involved in the arts, they are just not attending the traditional high art forms at traditional venues. This leaves cultural organizations that present the traditional art forms with the challenge of how to build attendance at their venues. Some argue that cultural institutions just need to make further attempts to expand their audience by reaching out to specific groups such as the young and minorities. However, if the traditional arts are seeing a decline among even their core audience, the problem is much larger than the development of a new marketing message can solve. Table 16.3 Percentage of audience by ethnic group, attending arts events

Population Jazz Classical music Plays Ballet

White

Hispanic

68.7 77.5 83.3 83.2 81.9

13.5 6.8 5.5 6.1 10.0

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African-American 11.4 12.5 5.2 6.6 4.2

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Communication technology and the marketing message In the last decade there have been fundamental changes in communication technology that have changed more than just the way people communicate. In the past there was a concern that media influences would result in a passive audience because there was no possibility of feedback (Butsch 2008). The shift in power that resulted from social media has meant that everyone can now communicate content. Instant access to this unlimited supply of factual information and of the opinions of others has changed the way people purchase and consume products. One result that must be faced by cultural organizations is that social media have changed the relationship between the consumer and the product. Where in the past, the organization controlled the promotional message, this is no longer true (Maidia 2011). However, social media have had an even more profound impact on cultural organizations. Because of the ability to create and share online, people are much less interested in a passive arts experience. Art has not always been seen as something that was separate from everyday experience and that, therefore, needed to be in a special venue. Nor has it been thought that only a few people are gifted enough to be creative. In fact, it has been argued that the act of experiencing art is creative in itself (Dewey 1934). This older view of art, that creativity is a part of everyone’s life, is now possible again because of the use of social media. Social media can also be used to build a creative online community around the art form. Creating this community, rather than just developing a new marketing campaign, is the challenge cultural organizations now face. This creative community will not only expand the audience, it will allow those involved with the art form to do the promotion. A community based on shared experience moves art away from the “art as medicine” approach, where the organization prescribes the art that is good for the public, to one where the public seeks out the art ( Jensen 2002). Social media technology not only allows the cultural organization to communicate with consumers, it allows consumers to share their values and opinions with others regarding products and organizations. Consumers want to share their excitement or disappointment about all types of products with other current or potential users (Holloman 2012). They not only willingly communicate with other consumers; they also are willing to share with the organization their ideas on how products can be improved. In fact, social media have resulted in marketing now being conducted by consumers (Hausmann 2012). Before purchase of a product, consumers go online looking for feedback and opinions from current purchasers. After purchase and consumption, they go back online to give their own feedback and opinions. While the cultural organization can also promote online, their voice is only one of many. Technology has also resulted in the establishment of new forms of community that were not imaginable in the past. Many of these communities will form because of a shared interest in a product. Because of the ease of communication with words and images over distances, today these cyber-communities are just as “real” as a physical community. The people in these communities share their opinions and are powerful advocates or detractors of an organization or product (Dreyer and Grant 2010).This has created the need for cultural organizations to develop a message that communicates to these communities, not just marketing focused on individuals. The phrase “we the people formerly known as the audience” was first introduced in regard to media audiences (Rosen 2006). However, it quickly caught on to describe the people who consume all types of culture. This one statement captures the power shift that has gone on since the explosion of social media use. The people who were formerly the audience now expect an equal voice in the organization. As a result it is marketing’s challenge to become a two-way 164

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communication process. Today’s consumers still desire culture, but they will no longer accept the authority of the cultural organization. However, the cultural organization can still play a critical role by providing a place for people to associate with others to create their own cultural life in a way that creates or reinforces community.

Communication technology and the creation of art Art used to be something that was created by artists and then delivered to the audience. However, technology now allows everyone to create. While the audience may still acknowledge that the artist has more skill or a more interesting message, this is a degree of difference rather than an absolute difference. Because of the ability to create, passively viewing the artistic creations of others is of little interest (Simon 2010). There has also been a fundamental change in the public’s attitude toward culture and art. Social changes on how people view the distinction between high art and popular culture have radically altered the relationship between the organization and the audience. There is no longer any hierarchy to high art in terms of it having intrinsic worth that popular culture does not have ( Johnson 2006). Now the audience considers themselves to be the equal of artists. The only hierarchy that remains is between culture that the consumer enjoys and culture the consumer does not enjoy. This disregard for the historical distinction between types of cultural products started with the success of commercial popular culture (DiMaggio 2000). While the blurring of the distinction between high art and popular culture has been going on for some time, with the advent of social networking technology it can be said that this blurring is now complete (Keen 2007). The results have been profound. Consumers of culture now only make distinctions between types of culture, which they no longer view as hierarchical. The view of today’s consumer of culture is that life is enriched by more and varied experiences of any type. They believe sharing the experience with an online community is as of much importance as the experience itself (Shirky 2010). In fact, many consumers do not see the difference, as the sharing of the experience is part of the experience. The traditional gatekeepers, who informed the public of what was good art versus bad, have been replaced by anonymous bloggers who share their opinions whether informed or uninformed. Those working in cultural organizations may be alarmed. They may believe their years of training and expertise about what is good art and what is bad art is no longer relevant. This is a legitimate issue of concern. If everyone is an artist, why do we need cultural gatekeepers? However, there is still a role for the cultural manager who determines what art to present (Keen 2007). The difference is how they approach their role. They can no longer dictate and disregard the creative efforts of their audience. Instead they must validate the efforts of their audience while at the same explaining the culture the organization is presenting. Even more they must use technology to allow their audience to be part of the creative process. Cultural organizations have moved from a world where the level of culture and taste could be easily judged by the venue in which it was found. Novels were in real bookstores while comic books were sold elsewhere. Serious theatre was presented in publicly funded theatres while movies were at the cinema. Not only has this physical distinction been muddied, online it has been completely overturned. High art and popular culture, entertainment and information, and education and persuasion are all available simultaneously online (Castells 2010). The days when the cultural organization had sole authority to inform the audience are over. 165

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Social media model The cultural organization might first believe that the solution to the problem is simply to start its own Facebook page. However, this confuses the technology with the human behavior that results from the technology. If the focus is on the social media site rather than its use, it is as if the cultural organization bought a camera when they were first introduced, and then let it sit in a drawer. The camera was to take and share photographs; otherwise it is just an unused tool. The Facebook page is the same. Unless it is used for two-way communication, it is another wasted tool. The rationale for using social media is to communicate with the current audience but also with the potential audience. The platforms that should be used are the specific social media sites that are popular with the current and potential audience. In addition, micro-blogging, photo sharing and video sites are used if they are popular with the targeted consumers. Finding the sites and mastering the technology are easy. Putting the sites to use will take the effort and insights of all those involved in the cultural organization, not just marketing. The content must be of value to the consumer and not be just the repetition of a marketing message. Therefore the decision of what goes online cannot be the decision of marketing alone. As a result the cultural organization is often left with the decision of what to do with their newly opened social media sites. There are two models that can be used. One model uses social media as an enhancement of the traditional attendance experience. In this model social media are used to more fully engage the consumer with the art before, during and after attendance. The second model uses social media to allow the consumer to co-create the art product. This is a much more time-consuming and challenging task for the cultural organization, but is also an excellent means of building community around the culture experience.

Enhancing the experience Social media can be used before, during and after attendance at the cultural venue. For-profit companies, particularly those in the entertainment and hospitality industry, have become skilled at ensuring the customer has all the necessary information before they arrive on site. Hotels send out emails that provide information on parking and weather. They also ask for information including preferences for pillow types and room style. Cultural organizations can do the same by providing all the information that is needed to easily access the venue (Geane 2012). This would include information on practical matters such as transportation, ticketing, parking, intermission and ideas for where to have dinner after the event. The cultural organization may also solicit and answer questions regarding the venue from customers before they arrive. However, cultural organizations can use social media to do even more. The organization can start to engage the audience with the art form before arrival so that the experience when they arrive will be even richer. Collective engagement is one of the characteristics of an experience that increases its value (Radbourne et al. 2010). Previously this sense of engagement could only occur at the venue. Cultural organizations can now provide this engagement via social media by allowing their customers to watch, listen and comment.They can provide video clips of the art form including rehearsal scenes, interviews with the artists and producers, and backstage information on technical production issues. Another way to engage the audience before arrival is to provide podcasts of former productions. An ongoing blog by members of the cultural organization can engage consumers and will give them a reason to regularly come back to the social media site. Formerly, this type of background information on the artist and art form was provided in a program, for which consumers were often charged. Now this information can be provided for free before the visit. 166

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Social media sites can also be used to allow consumers to communicate with each other before attendance. Fans of the organization can ask each other questions and provide background information on the artist and venue. This provides the customers with another means of involvement. To entice people to visit the event a social media site can be used to post contests to engage users. These contests would be about the art form and artist and the prizes would be reduced admission to the event but could also focus on the broader attendance experience and include discounts for local restaurants, hotels and stores. During the visit social media can again be used. It is quite common in popular culture events to have photos taken during the event and loaded on to social media sites in real time. Rather than restricting phone use, such events encourage the audience to give their opinions of the performance using tweets that are then shown to the audience at the same time as the event is taking place.Voting can also be used to solicit opinions on the next piece that should be played, on the desire for an encore and even the ending of a play ( Johnson 2012).The audience is going to be on their phones interacting anyway; it might as well be about the art form. After the cultural event, those attending can be encouraged to post their opinions and ask further questions. The opinions of other customers are the most potent marketing tool available to the organization. While the posting can be on the organization’s social media sites, the audience can be encouraged to post on other review sites. Some of these sites are specific to art forms while others are also focused on cultural and entertainment events in specific communities. Many cultural organizations are concerned about negative comments. Despite this concern there are reasons to encourage the audience to post reviews. Negative comments will be made anyway so the organization had best hear them directly. Some of the negative comments may be on issues that the cultural organization may wish to change such as lighting, sound level or perhaps even the comfort of the facility. However, there may also be complaints from those who attended about features integral to the art product such as type of music and choice of actor. In this case the reason for the choices made by the cultural organization can then be explained in an online response to the complaint. Finally, the cultural organization can build relationships using social media with those who never attend. By doing so they can build trust in the organization and interest in the cultural product that will influence future purchase decisions (Vivek et al. 2012). Video clips of the orchestra or ballet in rehearsal can be captivating in themselves. The cultural organization can use its social media sites to educate the public about their art. Those who watch and listen may not attend, but will still have an enhanced appreciation of the art form.

Social media and co-creation The second model takes social media engagement to another level. In this model the consumer becomes a co-creator. Co-creation is common in many online experiences from song writing to game playing. Online video sites include numerous home-produced music videos that are parodies of popular songs. Online gaming allows players to create and manipulate characters just as a playwright does. Design sites allow the budding architect to create their own building. These sites allow creative participation that is “artistic” if art is thought of as creative expression ( Jenkins and Bertozzi 2008). Cultural organizations should welcome this process. The process of co-creation may involve a number of levels of participation. The simplest is to allow consumers to be part of the programming process. This may involve allowing suggestions of what art to present. It may also involve allowing consumers to have some say in the programming such as voting on what to perform. However, the engagement can go further. The cultural organization may ask consumers 167

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to post their own creative efforts, whether visual art, video clips or music files. These art products are then shared with the online community. Taking this a step further, the art products may be displayed at the venues or even used as part of an exhibit or performance. Rather than fear this engagement, cultural organizations should welcome the amateur efforts of the public. In this way the cultural organization can applaud the creativity of their audience while at the same time educating the audience about the professional artistic product on display.

Conclusion The decline in attendance at traditional arts events is a long-standing trend that needs a more dramatic solution than simply more marketing. One reason for the decline is the changing relationship between the consumer and the cultural product brought about by the widespread use of social media. Cultural organizations must now maintain relations with individuals and groups via social media because they control the promotional message of a product. The cultural organization can also use social media to enhance the attendance experience by communicating information before the event. Social media can then be used to engage the audience during the event and after the event the comments of the audience can be welcomed. The other opportunity produced by social media is for the cultural organization to involve their online community in the co-creation of the art product. Social media are a tool that can be used to not just promote, but to build community and encourage artistic expression.

Further reading Butsch, R. (2008) The Citizen Audience: Crowds, Publics and Individuals, Routledge, New York. (Traces the cultural evolution of audiences.) Dewey, J. (1934) Art as Experience, Perigee Books, New York. (The classic discussion of the nature of art that is old but not dated.) Jenkins, H. and V. Bertozzi (2008) “Artistic Expression in the Age of Participatory Culture: How and Why Young People Create,” in Engaging Art: The Next Great Transformation of America’s Cultural Life, eds, S. Tepper and B. Ivey, Routledge, New York. (An in-depth explanation of how technology allows everyone to be an artist.) Jensen, J. (2002) Is Art Good for Us? Beliefs about High Culture in American Life, Rowman & Littlefield, Lanham, MD. (A book that is not afraid to challenge the common rationales for why art is good.) Shirky, C. (2010) Cognitive Surplus: How Technology Makes Consumers into Collaborators, Penguin, New York. (Explains the behavioral reasons for the popularity of social media.)

References Brown, A. and J. Novak-Leonard (2011) Beyond Attendance: A Multi-modal Understanding of Arts Participation, National Endowment for the Arts, Washington, DC. Butsch, R. (2008) The Citizen Audience: Crowds, Publics and Individuals, Routledge, New York. Castells, M. (2010) The Rise of the Networked Society, 2nd edn, Wiley-Blackwell, Chichester. Dewey, J. (1934) Art as Experience, Perigee Books, New York. DiMaggio, P. (2000) “Social Structure, Institutions, and Cultural Goods: The Case of the United States,” in The Politics of Culture: Policy Perspectives for Individuals, Institutions, and Communities, eds, G. Bradford, M. J. Gary, G. Wallach, New Press, New York. Dreyer, L. and M. Grant (2010) Open Community: A Little Book of Big Ideas for Associations Navigating the Social Web, Omnipress, Madison, WI. Geane, K. (2012) “Pack Your Shorts: Using Email to Prepare Audiences for Their Arts Experiences,” Artsmarketing.org, January 5. Retrieved from http://artsmarketing.org/resources/article/2012-01/ prepped-and-ready-using-email-prepare-audiences-their-arts-experience.

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Hausmann, A. (2012) “Creating ‘Buzz’: Opportunities and Limitations of Social Media for Arts Institutions and their Viral Marketing,” International Journal of Nonprofit and Volunteer Sector Marketing, August, 173–182. Holloman, C. (2012) The Social Media MBA: Your Competitive Edge in Social Media Strategy Development and Delivery, John Wiley, Chichester. Jenkins, H. and V. Bertozzi (2008) “Artistic Expression in the Age of Participatory Culture: How and Why Young People Create,” in Engaging Art: The Next Great Transformation of America’s Cultural Life, eds, S. Tepper and B. Ivey, Routledge, New York, 171–195. Jensen, J. (2002) Is Art Good for Us? Beliefs about High Culture in American Life, Rowman & Littlefield, Lanham, MD. Johnson, J. (2012) “Kelley Clarkson Accepts Tweeter Song Requests During Concerts,” Blog Herald. Retrived from http://www.blogherald.com/2012/09/12/kelly-clarkson-starts-accepting-twitter-songrequests-during-concerts/. Johnson, L. (2006) Mind Your X’s and Y’s: Satisfying the 10 Cravings of a New Generation of Consumers, Free Press, New York. Keen, A. (2007) The Cult of the Amateur: How Today’s Internet is Killing Our Culture, Doubleday/Currency, New York. Maidia, S. (2011) The Social Media Survival Guide for Nonprofits and Charitable Organizations: How to Build Your Base, Full Court Press,Voorhees, NJ. NEA (2008) Arts Participation 2008, National Endowment for the Arts, Washington, DC. NEA (2010) Audience 2.0: How Technology Influences Arts Participation, National Endowment for the Arts, Washington, DC. Radbourne, J., H. Glow and K. Johanson (2010) “Measuring the Intrinsic Benefits of Art Attendance,” Cultural Trends, 19(4), 307–324. Rosen, J. (2006) “The People Formerly Known as the Audience,” Pressthink, June 27. Retrieved from http://archive.pressthink.org/2006/06/27/ppl_frmr_p.html. Shirky, C. (2010) Cognitive Surplus: How Technology Makes Consumers into Collaborators, Penguin, New York. Simon, N. (2010) The Participatory Museum, Museum 2.0, Santa Cruz, CA. Staniszewski, M. (1995) Believing is Seeing: Creating the Culture of Art, Penguin, New York. Vivek, S., S. E. Beatty and R. M. Morgan (2012) “Customer Engagement: Exploring Customer Relationships Beyond Purchase,” Journal of Marketing Theory and Practice, 20(2), 122–146.

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17 LEVERAGING SOCIAL MEDIA TO ENGAGE AND RETAIN Arts/culture organization donors, members, and volunteers B. Kathleen Gallagher and Jessica E. Sowa

Introduction Social media has fundamentally changed the way we interact and communicate in today’s world. Driven by the growth in Internet connectivity for home access and smart phones for continuous use outside of the home, our ability to access information, connect with others, and communicate through various forms has restructured the way in which we navigate society and pursue our interests (Rainie 2012).1 Therefore, for those working in the arts and culture area, learning how to maximize these social media tools to further the ends of one’s organizations is critical. This growth has changed the way people communicate with one another and has been paired with an explosion in available social media. Social media tools are easy to use. They are inexpensive, leading to it being considered de rigueur to participate in social media conversations. However, using social media personally does not mean that one is ready to use these tools in an organizational setting; using the tools for marketing an organization differs and requires careful attention to strategy and use. This chapter answers the basic what, who, why, when, and how questions of social media use by arts organizations while emphasizing how to use the tools to engage and/or retain donors, members, and volunteers. First, we address what social media are, providing a brief discussion of some of the myriad of tools in play for social media today. Second, we offer information on what organizations are using social media. Next, we summarize reasons why and when your organization should begin or adapt the use of social media. Finally, we conclude by providing best practices for leveraging social media.2

What are social media? Social media are commonplace, but there still is a lot of confusion as to what is encompassed within the broad frame of social media.This confusion is further compounded by the continuing growth of new tools that can seemingly appear out of nowhere and suddenly be omnipresent.3

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Nonetheless, it is possible to bound social media as, by definition, digital tools that are inexpensive, easy to use, and make conversations between regular individuals through the Internet possible (Singh and Diamond 2012: 9). These instruments make it possible to share user-generated content (UGC), to instant message, text message, leave comments on websites, upload and share photos and videos via the Internet, network socially, and share blogs and microblogs. The technology that makes it possible is awesome, in the true sense of the word, but the real power resides in connecting people with shared interests in conversations and in networks that build relationships and trust (Evans 2010; Kanter and Fine 2010; Kanter and Paine 2012). The majority of the United States population is using social media in some manner. It is critical for organizations to recognize that social media moderated conversations are taking place in multiple venues with or without your involvement or permission (Evans 2010). Many marketers and entrepreneurs have identified the opportunity presented by social media to communicate with their audience. Social media can be a great resource for organizations of all sizes and budgets to reach their target, regardless of organizational budget. However, social media differ from traditional marketing. Marketing is the activity, set of institutions, and processes for creating, communicating, delivering, and exchanging offerings that have value for customers, clients, marketers, and society at large. (Andreasen 2012: 36) Traditional marketing delivered a message to the audience without the opportunity for response or participation (Evans 2010). A common manifestation of traditional marketing was advertising. A message was developed and crafted, published or broadcast, and viewed, read, or heard by the audience. Social media is driven by conversation, which can be initiated and moderated by the organization or by someone in the social mediasphere. Organizations need to understand that communication is multi-directional among users of social media.

Who are social media users? Entering social media sites, you will find two primary types of social media users. First, and foremost, you will encounter individuals. Second, you will find organizations. These users have different profiles, motivations, and styles of use. The words “social media user” typically prompt an image of a 20-something, single person more comfortable with electronic communication than conversation, leading many organizations to conclude their audience is not using social media. This is a false thought that leads to missed opportunities. Globally, almost 75 percent of Internet users have used social networking sites (Singh et al. 2012). However, there are differences among how social media is being used, created, and shared around the world. Asia is the leader of consumer publishing and sharing (Singh et al. 2012). Users in China are the major force in the global blogosphere (Singh et al. 2012). Japanese use social media to research product purchases (Singh et al. 2012). South Koreans use social media to remain informed on news and events (Singh et al. 2012). Indians are using social media to job search (Singh et al. 2012). In the United States, social media is cross-generational (Evans 2010), used by 86 percent of 18–29 year olds, 72 percent of 30–49 year olds, 50 percent of 50–64 year olds, and 34 percent of those 65 and older (Pew Internet 2012b). In addition, gender makes a difference. Women are engaged at a rate of 71 percent while men are using social media at a rate of 61 percent. Furthermore, women are more likely to get involved in and support nonprofit causes through 171

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social media (Flandez 2011; Ready 2011). Social media usage also varies with race/ethnicity. Seventy-two percent of English- and Spanish-speaking Hispanics, 68 percent of Black, nonHispanics, and 64 percent of Whites are using social media (Pew Internet 2012b). Social media use is highest among users with a household income less than $30,000 (71 percent), and between $30,000 and $49,999 (69 percent), and over $75,000 (69 percent). The lowest rate occurs among users with a household income between $50,000 and $74,999 (60 percent) (Pew Internet 2012b). As the only constant in life is change, the same is true of social media use. These figures will change but are well reported on the Internet. Therefore, before you decide social media are not for your organization, check the latest facts and figures – there is a good chance that you will be missing a critical segment of your market by forgoing these tools. Social media are used by organizations to communicate with all of these people. Two-thirds of large companies use social media (Mullaney 2012). Social media are believed to be very important to building awareness of organizational mission to 90 percent of respondents to the Nonprofit Social Network Survey (Ready 2011). Social media provide a great opportunity to observe and engage with your audience, donors, volunteers, supporters, and your competition.

Where are these conversations taking place? Social media conversations are happening all over and via different tools.These platforms include: blogs and microblogs, forums and message boards, social bookmarking, social events, social networking, social news sites, and social sharing.Thinking that all social media tools can do the same job is like thinking that a hammer, a screwdriver, and a ruler can serve as substitutes for one another. Choosing the right media for your organization requires considering and understanding the capabilities, strengths, and merits of the different options. This section briefly describes each of these forms and offers examples of access points. The word “blog” is short for web log and it is personal writing publicly accessible through the Web. Microblogging is a variation in which writers are limited, usually to 140 characters or less.There are multiple blogging platforms available. Blogger (www.blogger.com), Drupal (www. drupal.org), Live Journal (www.livejournal.com), MovableType (www.movabletype.org), TypePad (www.typepad.com), Tumblr (www.tumblr.com), and WordPress (www.wordpress.org) are among the most popular for traditional blogs while Twitter (www.twitter.com) is decisively the most popular platform for microblogging. Arts and culture organizations have used these to release news about the organization or its industry, to highlight events and performances, and to engage with their supporters. Examples of use include announcing awards, posting weekly trivia questions, counting down to the release of tickets for the opera season, and sharing real-time updates during festivals. Forums and message boards are online discussion sites. They have been a part of social media since the Internet got started. They were developed by programmers who posted flaws and fixes and were adopted by other special interest groups. Even in technology, where we are accustomed to rapid innovation, message boards continue to be popular. Actors, dancers, and musicians may share audition announcements. Audience members may post the merits of a particular organization, encouraging other interested parties to seek out the organization. Social bookmarking sites allow users to bookmark, organize, and share their favorite web content with a community of users.Visitors to Pinterest, Delicious, and other bookmarking sites can search for content to match an interest. This tool provides a digital bulletin board where members can tack up web content they want to remember. More community members bookmarking a site increases its popularity and may spur the site to greater popularity and awareness.

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Social event sites are used to promote events and facilitate reservations and ticketing. While some social network sites have social events ability built into their designs, other sites exist purely for events management. Eventful.com and Upcoming.org are two examples. Organizations may use this to manage a fundraising dinner, a special lecture, or a performance. Social news sites provide a platform for user-posted stories that are then ranked on popularity. Fark, Digg, and Reddit are among these. The more views or votes a story receives, the more likely it is to make it on the front page. These sites tap into popular interests and can be used as inspiration for an organization’s content on other platforms. Social networking is not a new concept, but the electronic moderation of these conversations is.Through social networking sites, community members can post what they are doing or thinking or where they are, share photos and videos, comment on the posts of others, create and join groups, and invite friends to events. Through Facebook, MySpace, Google+, and others, organizations can join and build networks. A performing arts group may post promotional photos of the latest production and announce performance dates and ticketing details. A museum might share an image of an object in the collection with an informative fact. Social networking sites provide a direct connection to interested parties. Social sharing takes place through all social media but sites focused on “social sharing” are typically used to share photos and/or videos (Evans 2010). Flickr and YouTube are two common examples. After a gala benefit an organization may wish to share photographs from the event with attendees. A ballet produced television ads but may also post these to YouTube for even greater exposure. Conversations facilitated by social media are taking place all over the Internet. They are occurring between people who share interests and use a variety of tools to build communities and strengthen relationships. Blogs, forums, message boards, social bookmarking, social events promotion, social news, social networking, and social sharing are among the media tools available to connect with supporters and market organizations. The array of tools and platforms allow organizations to develop individual designs for social media use.

Why and when should an organization use social media? Having familiarized yourself with the landscape of social media tools, the next challenge is deciding to use social media and designing a plan to do so. Motivation, investment, and risk are factors guiding an organization’s social media strategy. Why should an organization join or continue having social media conversations? Social media are powerful marketing tools and provide important means by which to engage with audience, volunteers, donors, and supporters and build relationships. Social media make it possible to increase transparency, a characteristic of networked nonprofits that makes it possible for outsiders to engage with the organizations and to contribute to the achievement of organizational mission (Kanter and Fine 2010). Social media increase communication between organizations and regulators, the media, and the broader public (Waters 2007). Ultimately, the information sharing that takes place can build accountability and increase public trust and organizational performance (Lovejoy and Saxton 2012). Furthermore, the Web, generally, and social media, specifically, allow individuals to give support in the instant and to share their decision with others in their community (Singh and Diamond 2012). Building networks using social media is an important motivation for arts organizations and should be weighed with the accompanying costs and risks of participation.

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Crafting a social media presence is not without cost. While many sites are free, they take personnel and time to craft. In a study of grant makers 45 percent of communication officials said they devoted 11 to 50 percent of their time to social media and 3 percent dedicate more than half of their time to social media (Ready 2011; Switzer 2011). Before an organization joins the social mediasphere, they need to listen. They should be attentive to what and who participants are talking about, how they are talking, and where they are talking (Kanter and Fine 2010). Kanter and Fine describe listening in social media: The process involves sifting through online conversations on multiple channels like social networks and blogs. The value of listening comes from making sense of the data and using it to identify influences, the key leverage points for spreading an organization’s message and efforts far and wide. (Kanter and Fine 2010: 61) Listening takes time, which adds cost. When done properly, however, listening provides information necessary to develop a strategy that can limit or prevent wasted efforts, time, and investment. Once an organization has listened, examined, and identified the valuable information, they should be prepared to make good use of the resources invested in participating in social media conversations and offer value to their audience. Social media are also subject to a lot of attention in reports of brand celebrity and overnight successes achieved through social media marketing (Evans 2010). Organizations are inspired or pressured to adopt social media. They rush to join the most recently mentioned social media organization, or the biggest, or the one someone in the organization uses personally and they expect instant success. In fact, many of those organizations give up when they don’t see any activity occurring on their page, not realizing the conversations in which they belong are occurring somewhere else (Evans 2010). The investment is lost and organizations dismiss the tools. Social media efforts are more realistically viewed as long-term investments, complete with risk. When treated as an investment rather than a sure bet, the importance of listening strategy and management are even more clear.

How can organizations leverage social media? Social media campaigns can be large, complicated, and expensive. A February 2012 survey by the CMO Survey found that in the next five years, marketers expect to spend 19.5 percent of their budgets on social media (Moorman 2012). But a major benefit of social media is that these tools also offer opportunities for the small, simple, and inexpensive approach. To leverage these tools, an organization should take a circular approach: listen, converse, measure, repeat. Each of these steps is important to success. If you do not listen to what is being said about your organization and the area in which you are operating, you will miss the cues of the community, failing to capture where your audience is talking and what they are saying. If you do not have this information and you try to enter the conversation, you may say the wrong thing or say it in the wrong place and miss the benefits, or possibly even damage your organization’s credibility in the social mediasphere. If you fail to measure the impact of your social media efforts, you may not use your resources to their fullest potential. Finally, once done, you need to repeat the cycle because the environment is always changing with the introduction of new tools and platforms and the rising and waning popularity among these.

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e

Convers

Listen

Measure Figure 17.1 The social media cycle

Listen Listening is critical to beginning your social media strategy. If you are joining a conversation in between two people, you do not just enter the conversation speaking – you spend time listening to what people are saying and then contribute to the conversation. The same logic applies to social media conversations – you must listen before contributing. However, this listening requires a plan; without a plan, trying to listen may feel like a loud, crowded party where conversations blur and it is hard to actually hear what is being said.You want to know where your audience is, where the other organizations in your field are, and what both groups are saying. Who is your audience and where are they? Most marketers have a pretty good idea of who their audience is, who is attending productions, performances, and exhibitions, who is taking classes, and who is supporting the organization. They develop materials and craft messages to prompt a particular behavior. It is essential to bear in mind that your online audience may be a subset of this group (Evans 2010). Further, social media are not a field of dreams that you can build and assume your audience will find you. Converse with them where they want to participate, not where you want them to be (Singh and Diamond 2012). To discover who your social media audience is, you can use blog search engines which search the Internet for blogs on any subject imaginable. Popular blog search engines include Google Blog Search,Technorati, LJSeek, and Ice Rocket Blog Search.You can use buzz monitoring which screens social media for consumer responses to services and products. Buzz monitoring can be done by an external firm but there are free tools available for internal use in smaller organizations. These include: Google Alerts, Twitter Search, TweetDeck, and Technorati. Others are available and a quick web search can lead you to the latest reviews by social media writers and bloggers. Listen to what is being said on forums and message boards and how it is being said. You can search videos and images at sites such as YouTube and Flickr for relevant content that is being posted in these media. It is important to monitor more than one source of information as social media users multiply and migrate between sites. Lovejoy and Saxton (2012) reported that the content of nonprofit Tweets was: information (58.6 percent), community (25.8 percent), and action (15.6 percent). What is the content within your arts area? Within your geographic area? This will help you understand

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what your audience is reading, writing, and watching online and where, and give you a clearer picture of who your social media audience is and how to talk with them. Listening also provides information on colleagues and competitors. They are also engaging with their audiences. Before you plan and execute your own social media debut or makeover, conduct an inventory of all other major social media marketing (SMM) campaigns taking place that also target your customers or are within your sector (Singh and Diamond 2012). Observing other campaigns should allow you to create a list of keywords being used, rankings by the dominant search engines, social media platforms and distribution channels in use, and what they share with their online communities (Singh and Diamond 2012). The listening phase is also an ideal time to consult with your legal department or counsel and to develop policies. Consideration needs to be given to risk management in social media, especially around social media policies ( Jones 2012).You may wish to include your legal department in creating your social media policies but, at a minimum, have them review policies such as: trackback and comments, defined approval process, employee conduct on social media while in the workplace, and off-hours social media use by employees (Evans 2010; Jones 2012). Furthermore, social media provide a new environment for old risks ( Jones 2012). Existing policies that address sexual harassment, anti-discrimination, client and employee confidentiality, employee safety, and intellectual property may be adapted to the new media ( Jones 2012). Having policies in place will serve your organization as it grows and the social mediasphere expands. Listening provides the information necessary to develop or modify a social media strategy, including resource allocation. Social media is not about marketing campaigns which focus on execution in a limited time. The emphasis and importance rests in conversation and long-term relationships (Singh and Diamond 2012). Kanter and Fine (2010: 6) nicely capture the importance of establishing a strong strategy in the face of the changing landscape of social media tools, stating “More important, keep in mind that tools will come and go, but strategy sustains organizations.” Listening allows you to find what the community values (Evans 2010). Taking the time to listen and understand will allow you to customize your contributions to the conversation and their frequency. Maintaining your role in the conversation is important as unattended media will lose audience (Ready 2011). In the Nonprofit Social Network Survey Report (2009), 80 percent of survey participants reported supporting their social media marketing, managing, and development with at least 25 percent of time from a full-time staff member (Ready 2011). Maintenance of social media allows your organization to adapt in the rapidly advancing world of social media.

Converse You have taken the time to listen and learn, to strategize, and now you’re ready to begin posting. Bear in mind that posting directly to third-party sites reduces your ownership of the content, literally. Sites, such as Facebook, own any data, photos, and notes that you post there (Poston 2012). Reviewing the statements of rights and responsibilities or user terms will reveal these conditions of use.This means these sites can take your photos and content and use them without additional permission (Poston 2012). Ownership makes it worthwhile to create a hosting account (which can be done for free through WordPress).Then post everything to your blog before linking to it from your social media accounts (Poston 2012). This preserves your ownership and can streamline organizational activity on multiple sites. Just as there are different organizational styles, there are different social media styles. These reflect the parties involved and the dynamics of the conversation. Therefore, you should think through the style that you want to adopt so that it is authentic to your organization. Similarly, do not adopt a

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social media identity that is at odds with the community in which you are trying to participate. Sowa and Gallagher (2010) identified five types of social media usage among arts and culture nonprofits. The Consistent Communicator posted regularly and maintained a steady presence. The Annual Event Driven Communicator would post at increasing intervals leading up to their large annual event, such as a festival, postings would spike during the event and rapidly decline afterwards. Seasonal Communicators post regularly during their production or service delivery season. In Grass-roots Communities, members of the community dominated postings, not the organization. Dormant or Neglected Communities were those in which there were fewer than two posts in a three-month period. Consider organizational goals and resources for social media use and develop a matching style.

Measure Most organizations seek to maximize resources. Time spent listening and conversing means time taken away from other activities – curating, performing, educating, audience development, fundraising, and so on. How can an organization make sure that time spent on social media is beneficial? Social media do not encourage an action, such as click to buy (Evans 2010). Social media seek to foster sharing, communicating, and the development of communities of people with shared interests. That seems hard to measure. Social media metrics exist and allow the quantification and evaluation of social media marketing (Poston 2012).They make it possible for an organization to establish and assess quantifiable goals for social media campaigns and activities. When you are implementing a system to measure your social media, you want to consider how to do this, but also how to use the data to inform your organizational practices. Organizations often want to measure attention they are receiving, the size of their online community, and the reach of their efforts. Kanter and Paine (2012) discuss how the Humane Society of the United States assesses their social media efforts, assessing actions in relation to the social media sites, donations, and customer service reactions. Some organizations will have the resources to outsource social media measurement to a consulting firm. Others need a DIY approach. This can be as simple as a spreadsheet with the metrics in the first column, the target goal in the second, and the platform and date on which they will be measured in subsequent columns (Table 17.1). There are numerous metrics an organization might choose (Kanter and Paine 2012). But, as stated earlier, with limited resources, an organization will want to be selective and choose those that speak to goals and objectives for social media outreach and can be gathered with the time and tools available, the tools that Kanter and Paine (2012) refer to as key performance indicators. Establish a schedule for measuring performance. Many people have noted that social media can be a time drain. Measuring social media can also preoccupy people and take away from actively listening and conversing. Table 17.2 lists some of the more common metrics used by organizations to measure reactions to their social media marketing. As detailed in the social media cycle, metrics are not part of a separate domain. They are part of the social media cycle: listen, converse, measure, repeat. Collect the metrics relevant to your goals and obtainable with available organizational resources. Then, think about what was Table 17.1 Example of a DIY metric table Metric

Goal

Facebook Mo/Date/Yr

Number of friends/followers/fans Number of positive and negative comments in response to a post Number of re-tweets/links to a post

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Table 17.2 Common social media metrics Outcomes

Metric

Attention

The ranking of a video or photo The number of sites to which the media has been submitted beyond original targets or the number of bookmarks submitted for the media How fast the media was voted to the popular page Number of both positive and negative comments/votes for media Number of new threads started in a forum for discussion Number of pages visited from initial referral from social bookmarking site Number of profile views Number of re-tweets or links to forum posts Number of RSVPs, number of accepts, number of regrets, number who showed for an event share through social events sites Number of times a particular tag has been used Number of views of the event Time visitors stay on your page Traffic brought in from the media being submitted to the social bookmarking, social news, social networking, and forums in which you are active Number of tags on media submitted Number of community members, friends, followers acquired Number of discussions started on your fan or group page Number of photos or videos that community members added to the event or in which you are tagged Number of subscribers to blog Number of links acquired since submitting the media to targeted social bookmarking or social news sites Number of links to events, posts, or your own targeted site or embeds of a video or photo Number of times a photo or video is a favorite or is added to groups, submitted to other social media sites, is viewed, is commented on Number of times posts are submitted to social news, social bookmarking, social networking, microblogging sites, and so on Number of times the event is listed on other event-sharing sites beyond the targeted site(s) Number of times the post is submitted to social news, social bookmarking, social networking, microblogging sites, and so on

Community

Reach

successful and what missed the mark as you listen to the ongoing conversations. How did your media resemble or differ from those that seem to generate friends and followers, comments, and high rankings? How does your organization resemble or differ from those that are finding success on the social mediasphere? These questions should help adapt your strategy and change the content or tone of your contributions to the conversation, if needed.Then, repeat. However, you should always remember to use your measurement process to help you assess how well the social media practices are helping you achieve your mission (Kanter and Paine 2012).

Conclusion Social media are technological tools that are affordable, easy to use, and facilitate conversations via the Internet. Assertions that, “My audience isn’t using social media” are naive. This chapter has demonstrated that social media are being used across demographic groups and audiences, on

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multiple platforms, 24/7 around the globe. To leverage social media, an arts organization needs to listen, converse, measure, and repeat the social media cycle.

Further reading Kanter, B., and Fine, A. H. (2010). The networked nonprofit: Connecting with social media to drive change. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Kanter, B., and Paine, K. (2012). Measuring the networked nonprofit. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Mansfield, H. (2011). Social media for social good. New York: McGraw Hill. Poston, L. (2012). Social media metrics for dummies. Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley.

Notes 1 2 3

Internet connectivity has grown from 14 percent in 1995 to 73 percent ten years later, and 86 percent today (Pew Internet 2012a). While the commonly used term is best practices, we do not believe in fundamentally “best practices” – we believe in better practices that can be adapted to your particular organizational context. See Pinterest, a current favorite of the authors.

References Andreasen, A. R. (2012). Rethinking the relationship between social/nonprofit marketing and commercial marketing. Journal of Public Policy and Marketing, 31(1), 36–41. Evans, L. (2010). Social media marketing: Strategies for engaging in Facebook, Twitter and other social media. Indianapolis, IN: QUE. Flandez, R. (2011). Men and women differ in causes they support on social media. Chronicle of Philanthropy, May 23. Jones, J. A. (2012). Nonprofit social media policies: Managing risk, maximizing opportunities. Paper presented at the International Society for Third Sector Research. Kanter, B., and Fine, A. H. (2010). The networked nonprofit: Connecting with social media to drive change. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Kanter, B., and Paine, K. (2012). Measuring the networked nonprofit. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Lovejoy, K., and Saxton, G. (2012). Information, community, and action: How nonprofit organizations use social media. Journal of Computer-Mediated Communication, 17(3), 337–353. Moorman, C. (2012). Social media spend continues to soar. Retrieved October 19, 2012, from: http:// www.cmosurvey.org/blog/social-media-spend-continues-to-soar/ Mullaney, T. (2012). Social media is reinventing how business is done. USA Today, May 16. Pew Internet (2012a). Trend Data (Adults). Retrieved September 14, 2012, from: http://pewinternet.org/ Static-Pages/Trend-Data-(Adults)/Internet-Adoption.aspx Pew Internet (2012b). Who uses social networking sites. Retrieved Sept. 14, 2012, from: http://pewinternet.org/Commentary/2012/March/Pew-Internet-Social-Networking-full-detail.aspx Poston, L. (2012). Social media metrics for dummies. Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley. Rainie, L. (2012). Smartphone ownership update: September 2012. Retrieved October 15, 2012, from: http://pewinternet.org/Reports/2012/Smartphone-Update-Sept-2012.aspx Ready, K. J. (2011). Social media strategies in nonprofit organizations. International Journal of Strategic Management, 11(3), 150–157. Singh, N., Lehnert, K., and Bostick, K. (2012). Global social media usage: Insights into reaching consumers wordwide. Thunderbird International Business Review, 54(5), 683–700. Singh, S., and Diamond, S. (2012). Social media marketing for dummies. Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley. Sowa, J. E., and Gallagher, B. K. (2010). The use of social media by arts and culture nonprofit organizations: An exploratory study. Paper presented at the Association for Research on Nonprofit and Voluntary Action. Switzer, C. (2011). More than 90% of foundations in new survey use social media. Chronicle of Philanthropy, June 28. Waters, R. (2007). Nonprofit organizations’ use of the internet: A content analysis of communication trends on the Internet sites of the Philanthropy 400. Nonprofit Management & Leadership, 18(1), 59–76.

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PART IV

Consumption perspectives

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18 CONSUMING THE ARTS Gretchen Larsen

Introduction There are a variety of reasons why those interested in the arts might wish to understand arts ‘consumption’. From the perspective of the artist, the audience, or ‘consumer’, is an integral part of an artistic experience. Salvador Dalí (Owen Cheatham Foundation 1959: 14) explains that “(w)ithout an audience, without the presence of spectators, these jewels would not fulfil the function for which they come into being. The viewer, then, is the ultimate artist. His sight, heart, mind – fusing with and grasping with greater or lesser understanding the intent of the creator – gives them life”. It is only when someone experiences, or ‘consumes’ the art that the creative process is complete. In order for the artist to achieve their goal, be it the comprehension of a message, the experience of an emotion or desire, or the questioning of the world in which the audience live; the artist needs a good understanding of their audience. The main focus of this book, however, is on the theory and practice of arts marketing. According to the ‘marketing concept’, the task of the marketer is to achieve the organization’s goals and objectives through satisfaction of consumers’ needs and wants ( Jobber 2007; Kotler 1976). Thus, the arts marketer’s main task is to understand the way in which consumers engage with, experience and create, complete and transfer the meaning of art through their consumption practices (Kotler and Scheff 1997; Kubacki and O’Reilly 2009). The focus of the arts marketer’s interest in arts consumption depends upon the particular marketing problem they wish to address. Certain marketing issues arise again and again across the arts sector, which has led to an emphasis on, and greater understanding of, particular aspects of arts consumption. For example, the ‘arts’ sector is commonly understood to comprise the ‘high’ arts that have no explicit market objectives (Botti 2000), but which are often supported through public funding due to their perceived cultural, social and historical value. In this sector, the majority of work has been around increasing consumption of the arts overall, but with a particular focus on widening participation within non-traditional arts consumers. In turn, this has driven an interest in such issues as the formation of artistic tastes and preferences (e.g. Bourdieu 1979/1984), the drivers and barriers to consuming arts (e.g. Andreasen and Belk 1980; Hood 1983) and audience development (e.g. McCarthy and Jinnett 2001). In the ‘creative industries’ where the economic value of creative and artistic practices is salient and therefore where art is subject to the market (Drummond et al. 2008), the focus has been on the increasing influence of technology. New consumption practices brought about by technological advances have the potential to be disruptive to market structure and business models, and are therefore often seen as threatening. Consequently, a body of knowledge has developed around such issues 183

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as illegal digital consumption of various art forms such as music and film (e.g. Dilmperi et al. 2011) and participatory cultural consumption (e.g. Lee 2012). What then exists is a fragmented understanding of arts consumption, which comprises only a part of the whole phenomenon. In order to move towards a more comprehensive knowledge, the purpose of this chapter is to map out the scope and contours of the terrain of the field of arts consumption. In doing so and in line with current thinking (e.g. Fillis 2011; O’Reilly 2011; O’Reilly and Kubacki 2009; O’Reilly and Kerrigan 2010), a wide definition of the ‘arts’ is evoked, which is inclusive of visual, performing, folk and popular arts and also the products of the creative industries.

Towards a definition of arts consumption A review of the existing literature reveals that no formal definition of arts consumption has been given, even in cases where the aim is to provide an overview of the body of knowledge (e.g. Bradshaw 2010; O’Reilly 2011). Very often arts consumption, or even the consumption of a specific form of art, is treated simply as another instance of consumption (Bradshaw 2010; Bradshaw et al. 2010), which can be explored and understood simply by transferring ‘consumer behavior’ theories to the context of the arts. Unsurprisingly, then, much of the literature on arts consumption reflects the same kinds of assumptions, approaches, interests, concerns and limitations that exist in the field of consumer research. The traditional view of the consumer is that of a rational decision maker who is instrumental in their decision making. The rational choice model evolved into what is commonly referred to as the ‘information processing model’ (Bettman 1979), and this perspective still endures in consumer research. It encourages an emphasis on exchange, and in particular purchase decisions, as opposed to the consumption process as a whole; and on utilitarian value. In the context of the arts, this manifests in unhelpfully narrow conceptualizations of consumption. For example, Hill et al. (2003: 37) describe arts audiences as being “involved in a transaction with an artist or arts organization … those with whom the arts organization is trying to exchange something of value”. This does not capture all aspects of the consumption of art, such as talking about it (Larsen et al. 2009) or collecting memorabilia. O’Reilly (2011) maps the territory of the arts consumption literature, and the result (see Figure 18.1) clearly illustrates the emphasis on the application of conventional consumer behavior theories, such as involvement, choice and motivation, to arts consumption. This perspective neglects the specific nature and character of the arts and arts consumption, and the issues that it raises are often masked. For example, Bradshaw (2010) argues that the arts consumption literature problematizes the distinction between production and consumption which is axiomatic in the wider marketing and consumer research literature. Producers (artists) often consume their own art, such as in the case of background musicians (Bradshaw et al. 2005); and consumers become producers or artists through participatory acts such as scanlation of manga (Lee 2012). In particular, Bradshaw et al. (2010) argue that the traditional approach overlooks aesthetic experience, and instead advocate Holbrook and Hirschman (1982) and Holbrook’s (1995) ‘experientialism’ as a more appropriate conceptual lens to understand arts consumption. The ‘experiential view’ regards consumption as primarily subjective and influenced by fantasies, feelings, and fun, thus highlighting the primacy of emotions, experience and the subconscious over rationality, cognition and the conscious (Maclaran 2009). The consumer’s experience and their consumption practices are placed at the center of arts consumption, which takes place in a socially constituted world within which cultural meanings

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are formed and circulate around circuits of cultural consumption (du Gay et al. 1997; Bradshaw et al. 2010). There is an important question that is couched within a discussion of arts consumption, and that is what it means to label engagement with the arts as ‘consumption’. O’Reilly et al. (2013) raise the same question about music and much of their discussion is applicable to the wider arts consumption context. For example, they argue that ‘consuming’ music implies an engagement with music that is mediated by the market, and the same can be said for ‘consuming’ art. In contemporary, advanced capitalist societies, consumers are generally represented as active agents who choose from amongst a number of suppliers of a particular product type. In the case of the arts, this might be choosing between different artists, or venues, or even different art forms, for example choosing to watch a live street-art performance rather than entering an art gallery. Consumers participate in exchange in order to take ownership of, or to gain the right to access and experience, art. Given the economic value of the arts, exchange usually requires the consumer to pay money. Both in theory and in dominant everyday discourse, consumers are sovereign in the market. Interestingly, it is primarily through music that the notion of the sovereign consumer has been critically challenged. Both Adorno (1991) and Attali (1977/1985) argue that popular music, which is produced in multiple-serial form (Laing 1985), is a commodity controlled, ordered and shaped by capitalism, and which therefore exerts power and structures consumption

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in ways that transform listeners into slaves to capital. From this perspective, the representation of the music/arts ‘consumer’ is that of the duped and docile masses.The legacy of these critiques is that framing arts engagement as ‘consumption’ is only really acceptable in the popular and creative industry sectors, but not in the traditional ‘high arts’. This is evidenced in such texts as Hill, O’Sullivan and O’Sullivan’s (2003) Creative Arts Marketing, which although squarely positioned within the discourses of the market and marketing, only refers to ‘audiences’. The words ‘consumer’ or ‘consumption’ are not even in the index. The arts can be consumed instrumentally, and in such moments the traditional view of the consumer as a rational, agentic, information-processing machine might provide sufficient understanding. For example, music can be consumed to enhance performance in running (e.g. Karageorghis and Priest 2008), cognition (e.g. Rauscher et al. 1993) or psychological well-being (e.g. Hanser and Thompson 1994). However, in response to a dynamic cultural and technological macro-environment, art is consumed in increasingly diverse and sometimes even contentious ways and for an array of reasons. There are a staggering variety of different types of consumers, consumption practices and experiences in the arts. Patterson and Brown’s (2009: 828) study of how people read Harry Potter books, illustrates how “people employ a repertoire of reading styles, depending on their prevailing mood, previous experience, personal circumstances, time pressures and such like”. Therefore, as O’Reilly et al. (2013) and Bradshaw et al. (2010) amongst others argue, not only are the arts functional, but also aesthetic, experiential and social, and therefore consumption practices reflect much broader experiential and communicative use-values. Adopting ‘experientialism’ as a lens means that arts consumption is better understood as the drawing out of different and multiple use-values, occurring within, and shaped by, a dynamic socio-cultural-political environment. A definition of arts consumption must therefore be necessarily broad and inclusive. As the field of arts marketing and consumption is still growing and developing, the purpose of a definition is not to lock down the parameters of the field, but to highlight the possibilities and scope of the phenomenon of arts consumption. In the style of Holbrook and Hirschman (1982) where their new experiential consumption framework was contrasted with the information-processing view of consumer behavior, here the definition of ‘arts consumption’ is set against the contemporary definition of general consumption. Consumer behavior is defined in various textbooks as individuals or groups acquiring, using and/ or disposing of goods, services, ideas or experiences to satisfy needs and wants (e.g. Arnould et al. 2004; Solomon et al. 2010). To adapt this definition to ‘arts consumption’, all that is required is to change ‘goods, services, ideas and experiences’ to ‘arts’. Thus arts consumption is defined as individuals or groups acquiring, using and/or disposing of arts to satisfy needs and wants. The important insights come from identifying the specific details of each of the components of the definition, which then outlines the scope of the who (individuals and groups), what (arts products), how (acquire, use and dispose) and why (to fulfill needs and wants) of arts consumption. Arnould et al. (2004) provide a graphical illustration of the domain of consumer behavior, against which arts consumption can be distinguished. In Figure 18.2, italics denote the characteristics of ‘arts marketing’. The following sections elaborate upon who arts consumers are and how and why they consume arts, which are reflected in their various consumption practices.

Arts consumers Arts consumers are, of course, people, but specifically those who are engaging in arts either on their own or as part of a group. There are a multitude of different roles and configurations of

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The Culturally Constituted Environment

Individuals or Groups E.g. listeners, passers-by, critics, collectors, artists, fans, audiences, clubs, stakeholders, subcultures, tribes, communities, the public

Acquiring Receiving, finding, inheriting, producing, purchasing Perceiving (listening, seeing, smelling, tasting), attending, creating, co-creating, purchasing, discovering, experimenting, accessing, receiving, stealing Products, Services, Ideas, Experiences Art: e.g. the experience, form, genre, artist, venue, producer, paraphernalia

Consuming Collecting, nurturing, cleaning, preparing, evaluating, serving, displaying, storing, wearing, sharing, devouring Sensing, experiencing, engaging, evaluating, responding, sharing, collecting, preserving, re-presenting, displaying, ritualising, challenging, understanding Disposing Giving, throwing away, recycling, depleting Rejecting, destroying, wearing out, selling, forgetting, replacing

Figure 18.2 The domain of arts consumption Source: Adapted from Arnould et al. (2004).

arts consumers. It is possible for multiple roles of consumption to be enacted at the same time, and a range of factors may determine which particular combination of roles is salient. First, our level of engagement or involvement may impact whether we are active or passive consumers. For example, in an increasingly noisy modern urban environment, we are regularly subjected to music that we have not chosen, and might not choose, to listen to, from a range of sources such as passing vehicles or our fellow commuters’ headphones. To help us manage the sonic environment, we may then actively choose to individually listen to music we have selected ourselves on some form of portable music player (Bull 2001). Second, the particular form of art and the senses that are required to engage with it frame the art consumer. Classical art is primarily visual, whereas modern, contemporary art might involve any or all of the senses. An untitled artwork by Felix Gonzalez-Torres at the Regarding Warhol: Sixty Artists, Fifty Years (2012) exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art not only encouraged people to look, but also to touch and taste. The artwork comprised a pile of multi-colored sweets in the corner of a room, accompanied by the invitation to take one sweet and eat it. Replenished every day to a weight of 175 pounds, the ideal weight of Gonzalez-Torres’s lover who died of AIDS-related complications, this artwork makes the consumer complicit in the diminishment and disappearance of the artist’s lover and also in his resurrection as the pile of sweets is replenished. The consumer is therefore not only a viewer of this piece of art, but is simultaneously a taster, destroyer, and creator. The tangibility or materiality of the particular art form also structures consumption. Being a collector is only possible if there is something that can be collected. Art works, music recordings, books, tickets, exhibition and performance programs, bootleg recordings of concerts are all tangible forms of art or material representations of the consumption experience which are collected because they hold some kind of personal, cultural and/or economic value to art consumers. Third, the role a person has in the creation of art influences what kind of art consumer they are.The person listening to a recording of an album is far removed from the artist and the process 187

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of music creation. However, listening to that same music performed live at a concert means that the consumer is already much more involved in the creation of the music. The music, the way the audience and the artist interact, the general atmosphere, the temperature of the venue and so on (Minor et al. 2004) all come together to create a particular experience that cannot be repeated or captured. Hill et al. (2003) explain that an arts audience can be thought of as comprising all people with whom an artist or arts organization communicates. From this perspective arts consumers range across the continuum from artists/producers to consumers, and include such stakeholders as funding bodies and agencies, local authorities, educational establishments, the press and media, critics, business sponsors, other artists, trustees and governors. One particular type of arts consumer that has been the focus of much arts marketing theory and practice is that of the ‘audience’, which Oxford Dictionaries Online (2012) define as “an assembled group of listeners or spectators before whom a performance takes place”. An audience is clearly made up of a number of individual arts consumers, but is better understood as a weave of socially interacting groups and individuals that takes different forms in relation to the type and nature of the performance (Abercrombie and Longhurst 1998). The audience for the High Voltage Festival, a rock and heavy metal festival held in London, is very different in composition, practices and consumption experience than the audience attending a performance of a Shakespeare play at the Globe Theatre. What audiences do have in common is that they are temporary and transient in character (Waterman 1998), and the consumption experience is ephemeral and primarily intangible. As a way of capturing the experience, audience members often purchase or create their own memorabilia, which act as carriers of meaning and memory. The academic and practitioner interest in audiences, which is in part driven by publicly funded arts organizations’ remit to develop and expand their audiences, results in the prevailing conceptualization of art consumers as audiences (see previous comment about the absence of the ‘consumer’ in Hill et al. 2003). Despite this, O’Reilly (2011) notes that in the arts consumption literature there is little evidence of collective consumption or consumption communities, even though studies such as Kozinets (2002) show that experiences of communitas and belongingness are features of arts consumption. Consequently, O’Reilly et al. (2013) discuss a number of notions, such as consumer culture, consumer tribes, brand communities and scenes which they argue will facilitate a more thorough understanding of groups of arts consumers.

Arts consumption practices It is not only important to understand who arts consumers are, but also how and why they consume art. The traditional view of the consumer as an information-processing machine was accompanied by a focus on purchasing behavior. However, arts consumption, like any form of consumption, encompasses a much broader range of activities that go beyond acquisition, to those of consumption and disposition (see Figure 18.2). Even if the primary interest in acquisition remains, an examination of arts consumption highlights that there is a wide variety of ways by which consumers can acquire art. The intangible and often public-good nature of arts products means that consumers do not necessarily have to engage in market-mediated economic exchanges (purchasing) to experience art – they may simply have to perceive that it is there, or they may expend more energy in the process and learn about and discover new art. Some acquisition practices have been very contentious such as the illegal downloading and sharing of copyrighted media content. As downloading and file-sharing is a threat to the structure of the industry and therefore the profitability of businesses within it, there has been a great interest in

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developing an understanding of who downloaders are (e.g. Fox and Wren 2001), and what, where (e.g. Moore and McMullan 2004), how (e.g. Langenderfer and Cook 2001) and why they download (e.g. Andersson 2012). The interest in why people consume the arts is substantial and is evident in the literature. This is variously dealt with as motivations to consume, needs that are fulfilled through consumption or it is tied up in discussions of the value of art to the various types of art consumers. Generally, the motivations/needs/value identified circulate around the same issues, such as those identified by Botti (2000). She summarizes the benefits of arts consumption as (1) functional/cultural: education, knowledge and enhancing culture; (2) symbolic: using the cultural meaning of art to represent one’s identity and personality; (3) social: communicating social status and building relationships through arts consumption; and (4) emotional: seeking an intrinsic experience. These same reasons explain why people consume music (e.g. Merriam 1964; Lonsdale and North 2011). Hargreaves and North (1999) argue that music also performs functions at a societal level, such as validating social institutions and religious rituals, and providing continuity and stability of culture, and thus highlight that arts consumption occurs not only at the intra- and inter-personal level, but also at the level of community, society and culture. Motivations for arts consumption are written in how people consume.The why and how are combined to form particular arts consumption practices which facilitate different kinds of experiences. Kubacki and O’Reilly (2009) use Pine and Gilmore’s (1999) four realms of experiential consumption as a way of categorizing different music consumption practices: (1) passive entertainment, e.g. listening to a jazz gig in a bar while having a conversation at the same time; (2) passive immersion, e.g. the aesthetic pleasure of watching a theatre play; (3) active participation, e.g. escaping the everyday by singing along with the music at a rock concert; and (4) educational participation, e.g. getting involved in creating music by attending lessons and learning how to play an instrument. It should however be noted that while the experiential aspects of arts consumption practices are widely acknowledged, Bradshaw et al. (2010) argue that the engagement with, and understanding of, the actual aesthetic experience remains neglected and therefore absent in arts marketing and in marketing theory more generally. This can perhaps be remedied by close examination of particular consumption practices that are uniquely or significantly manifest in the arts, such as collecting and fandom. Fandom is an interesting arts consumption practice.The fan is someone with a focused interest in an artist or some form of art product, and who is differentiated from other arts consumers by their degree of involvement with the object of their admiration (e.g. Thorne 2011). Fans tend to weave their interest throughout their daily lives and their identity (Shankar 2000). The practice of ‘fandom’ has been described as a set of socially and historically situated tastes, consumption practices and strategies for interpretation (Fishzon 2012) that exists within a particular cultural and social milieu (Harris 1998). Because of the particularity and specificity of fandom, it is a unique and complex phenomenon. This can be observed in the varied reactions to fans, where some fans such as those of heavy metal music are often reviled, while others such as those of opera are revered. The experience of fandom can be both individual and communal. When communities form, such as fan clubs, they become a powerful and socially defining consumption experience as they enable individual fans to meet similar people, participate in consumption rituals, share knowledge and gain social status. Fans are often also productive themselves, actively participating in and contributing to the creation of new art. Lee’s (2012) work on manga scanlators illustrates just how important the work of fans is in the intermediation, distribution and marketing process. However, much remains to be understood about fandom and about other distinctive arts consumption practices. 189

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An example of an unexamined arts consumer: the music groupie There are many varied forms of arts consumption that remain unexamined, but which offer rich insights into arts consumption. One such practice is that of the music groupie. Groupies can be found across a range of culture, leisure and sports activities such as in baseball (Gmelch and San Antonio 1998) and rodeo (Forsyth and Thompson 2007; Gauthier and Forsyth 2000), but it is with music, particularly the rock genre, that groupies are most commonly associated. Although there is no agreed definition of who or what a groupie is, a general understanding exists that groupies are a more extreme type of (usually) female fan who seek intimate emotional and/or sexual relations with musicians (e.g. Cline 1992; des Barres 1987; Fonarow 2006). Within existing typologies of fans (e.g. Thorne 2011), this definition likens groupies to the ‘dysfunctional’ fan. This is supported by a representation in popular media and some of the academic literature, of the groupie-as-sexual-predator. Warwick (2007: 170) captures this view of the groupie as “‘easy’, with low self-esteem, and too stupid about music to be proper fans, but also – paradoxically – predatory and exploitative of the hapless musicians whose artistry they cruelly ignore in their lust for celebrity sex”. The roots of this discourse can be found in a cover article in Rolling Stone magazine in 1969. This was the first mention of ‘groupies’, and it leaves the impression that groupies are pathetic creatures to be pitied, but at the same time a crucial part of rock culture, without which male musicians could not relieve tension or receive their deserved amount of adulation. The result was a powerfully strong and long-lasting discourse which frames groupies as deviant, fanatic, parasitic, exploited, exploitative, destructive sexual predators. It is a very gendered discourse, which prioritizes the sexual motivations and behaviors of female fans over any other forms of musical engagement. Disregarding the musical properties of consumption is noted as a concerning theme in the sociology of music (Prior 2013). This dominant representation of groupies has blinded us to the transgressive aspects of groupiedom (Coates 2003) and forecloses other possibilities for enacting and imagining female fans’ consumption of rock music. An examination of a different set of popular culture texts, the biographies of groupies and others inside the music industry, provides an alternative representation of music groupies which is better understood as groupies-as-muses. Through her autobiographies exploring her own and other groupies’ experiences since the late 1960s, Pamela des Barres is probably the most publicly well-known groupie. She says, “I believe [muse] describes the role of the groupie. A brilliant, creative man is often brought to the height of his genius by the muse. Throughout the ages, such women have helped revolutionise the arts” (des Barres 2007: x). Of significance in the groupies-as-muses discourse, is that the music itself is of central importance. Being a groupie is a way in which fans can demonstrate their devotion, appreciation and love for the musical creations of the musician. Cherry Vanilla speaks of her experiences with musician Leon Russell: “Of course, I was madly in love with his music and wanted to be as close to him as possible, which in my head, at that time, meant sleeping with him” (des Barres 2007: 25). In return, the groupie can be a source of great inspiration and creativity for the musician, thus in a male-dominated art form, it has been one of a few routes to the inner-circle of creativity available to women. Again, Cherry Vanilla’s story speaks of the role being a groupie plays in fulfilling this desire to be on the inside. Her relationship with David Bowie transformed once she started working with him as his PR representative: “Once I got to work with Bowie on a business level and help make him a star, that was much more fulfilling than just having sex with him” (des Barres 2007: 30). Thus, the groupie-as-muse representation contrasts with that of the groupie-as-sexual-predator by framing groupies as important, special, inspirational, strong and productive.

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These are only two of a range of possible representations of music groupies, yet already many questions and issues are raised about music and arts consumption. For example, elsewhere this author (Larsen 2012) has asked what challenges these representations pose for the notion of co-creation (Vargo and Lusch 2004) in marketing and consumption. She suggests that the groupies-as-muses discourse blurs, disrupts and unsettles distinctions that have traditionally categorized the cultural field of music, such as that of the producer/consumer or musician/audience. If groupies are inspirational and even necessary to maximize creative genius in their role as muses, then the idea that groupies’ actions are play is brought into question. What they are doing may be better conceived of as ‘work’ and also as productive, co-creative labor (e.g. Banks and Deuze 2009; Zwick et al. 2008). Thus co-creation involves a partial flipping of tasks as the groupie-consumer contributes to the production of the music and the artist-producer consumes their creative inspiration. The relationship between the musician and the groupie might even go beyond the symbiotic notion of co-creation, to one of fusion, where there are no longer clear demarcations as to the source of the creative output. In this situation the categories of producer and consumer become meaningless.

Summary The aim of this chapter has been to map out the scope and terrain of the field of arts consumption, and in doing so highlight the broad, unique, fascinating and varied nature of arts consumption. This has been achieved by providing and examining a working definition of arts marketing. Building upon the contemporary definition of consumption in general, the distinctive character of arts consumers and consumption is identified (Figure 18.2). A closer examination of a particular type of arts consumer – the audience, and of arts consumption practices – fandom and groupies, indicates that arts consumption is worthy of examination in and of its own right as a significant and interesting contemporary consumption phenomenon. It is also apparent that the insights gained from arts consumption also contribute to broader marketing theory and practice, by for example problematizing the production/consumption nexus, or raising questions about notions of co-creation. It is clear though that there is much exciting work to be done in order to develop a full and detailed understanding of arts consumers, consumption practices and experiences.

References Abercrombie, N. and Longhurst, B. (1998) Audiences: A Sociological Theory of Performance and Imagination. London: Sage. Adorno, T. (1991) The Culture Industry. London: Routledge Classics. Andersson, J. (2012) “Learning from the File-Sharers: Civic Modes of Justification Versus Industrial Ones”, Arts Marketing: An International Journal, 2(2), 104–117. Andreasen, A.R. and Belk, R.W. (1980) “Predictors of Attendance at the Performing Arts”, Journal of Consumer Research, 7(September), 112–120. Arnould, E., Price, L. and Zinkhan, G. (2004) Consumers. New York: McGraw-Hill/Irwin. Attali, J. (1977/1985) Noise: The Political Economy of Music. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Banks, J. and Deuze, M. (2009) “Co-creative Labour”, International Journal of Cultural Studies, 12(5), 419–431. Bettman, J. R. (1979) An Information Processing Theory of Consumer Choice. Reading: Addison Wesley. Botti, S. (2000) “What Role for Marketing in the Arts? An Analysis of Arts Consumption and Artistic Value”, International Journal of Arts Management, 2(3), 14–27. Bourdieu, P. (1979/1984) Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste. London: Routledge.

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19 CONSUMPTION CRITERIA IN ARTS MARKETING Morris B. Holbrook

Eight types of customer value and the case of Gary Burton Fundamentally, the job of the arts marketer seems pretty simple: Find out what criteria guide the choices of audience members or arts patrons in the relevant segments of consumers; design an offering that appeals to those criteria; and communicate the nature and availability of this offering to the potentially relevant customers. Yet even this simple characterization of the artsmarketing job embodies at least one source of conflict that has troubled the area of arts marketing in ways similar, say, to the areas of education, religion, medicine, or jurisprudence. Specifically, and increasingly, the arts institution – like the university, the church, the hospital, or the court system – tends to assume that its offering should reflect the criteria brought to bear by relevant customers, whereas the actual producer of the offerings in question – the professor, the preacher, the doctor, the judge, or the artist – may well feel that standards of excellence unique to the relevant profession should guide the design of product offerings and other elements in the marketing mix. In this sense, true artists do behave in a way that is profoundly customer-oriented, but only insofar as the artists themselves play the role of the key customers for their own artistic products. Often stubbornly, they see their task as that of pleasing themselves. The fact that this vanishingly small and inveterately egocentric customer segment typically honors criteria of excellence very different from those of ordinary audience members or arts patrons serves to drive a wedge between the viewpoints of artists and arts administrators. Unfortunately, this inherent conflict is so fundamental to the artistic enterprise that it should probably be regarded as inevitable and unavoidable in nature. A second related but conceptually distinct tension in the artistic community refers to the distinction between High Art (with a capital “A”) and popular culture (with a small “c”) or entertainment (with a small “e”). The former (High Art) reflects the highest standards of creative integrity and artistic sophistication; it appeals primarily to those with well-educated artistic tastes; it therefore attracts only a small audience of the most elite arts patrons. The latter (pop culture or entertainment) – whether purposely or inadvertently – dumbs down its offerings to make them more accessible to the mass audience; it thereby appeals to larger numbers of ordinary audience members with uneducated artistic tastes; it therefore attracts a larger audience of naive or unsophisticated fans. Almost everybody – especially anybody with a background in sociology – feels some degree of discomfort in recognizing, let alone talking

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about, this tension between “class” and “mass.” The fact is that taste does mirror differences in social status (partly due to differences in education and partly due to the use by higherstatus groups of artistic preferences as ways of marking their elevated social standing). But, whether we like it or not, the fact is that there is a difference between Glenn Gould playing Bach and Paul McCartney singing Rock. And that difference – primarily a difference in ease of apprehension – renders the audience for the former small and that for the latter enormous. Putting these two contrasts together, it seems fair to suggest that all arts administrators wish the artists they manage would cleave closer to the popular end of the cultural continuum, would appeal more to larger if less cultivated groups of customers, and would behave more like Paul and less like Glenn. True artists, of course, take just the opposite stance – maintaining elevated standards of excellence, pursuing the highest levels of creative integrity, and pleasing themselves above all others. These irreconcilable differences lead toward a marketing strategy that Ted Levitt characterized as the “selling orientation.” That is, manufacture the product (say, an uncompromisingly challenging jazz performance, a painting that comprises nothing but squiggles and erasure marks, an art film with unknown actors and no discernible plot, or an atonal concerto for unaccompanied nose flute); find out that, oops, nobody wants it (precisely because it appeals to such refined tastes that few people alive possess the requisite degree of sophistication); and, then (having ignored the tastes of the audience when creating the product), go out and promote the living daylights out of it (halfprice tickets, student discounts, senior citizen passes, membership series, fund drives, free cocktails at the bar of the cabaret-style venue). All too often, this is exactly what we see when a theater series packages a group of three or four unintelligible plays by Harold Pinter and his friends. Or when a fine art museum recruits busloads of school children to attend the Salvador Dalí exposition. Or when the films of Andy Warhol appear uninterrupted in a three-day outdoor festival at the open-air band shell near you. Or when your favorite NPR FM station or PBS TV channel bores you to tears with non-stop fundraising membershipdrive marathons. We might wonder how this immutable tension can reach any sort of resolution in the world of arts marketing. My perhaps overly sanguine answer lies in the hope that an artistic creation adhering to the highest standards of esthetic excellence (thereby pleasing the artist) can at the same time attract multiple modest-sized customer segments (so as to appeal to an overall audience large enough to please the arts administrator). The secret to achieving this outcome, I believe, is to recognize that any given artistic offering potentially delivers multiple types of customer value; that different customer segments seek different types of value; that these value types are in no way mutually contradictory; but, rather, that they tend to coexist in any artsrelated consumption experience; and, therefore, that a given artistic offering can be positioned in ways that cater to multiple value segments simultaneously. To develop this point farther, I must draw on the field of axiology in general and on the theory of customer value in particular. In various works over the past 30 years, I have developed a definition of Customer Value as an interactive relativistic preference experience. By this, I mean, first, that Customer Value is interactive in the sense that it involves a relationship between some subject (the consumer) and some object (the offering). Value depends on a match between the two that some refer to as the “co-creation” of value. Second, Customer Value is relativistic in the senses that it is comparative (where some offering can attain value only by contrast with some other offering and not in any absolute sense, as when chocolate ice cream is good compared with vanilla ice cream but vanilla is good compared with rum raisin); personal

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(where value differs from one individual to the next, just as surely as you prefer chocolate and I prefer vanilla); and situational (where value depends on the context in which the evaluation occurs, as when cold ice cream tastes great in the summer but hot cocoa tastes better in the winter). Third, Customer Value manifests itself in a preference wherein value (singular) refers to an individual’s liking of one offering better than another in a particular situation and wherein values (plural) refers to the criteria on which that preference is based. And, fourth, Customer Value inheres in a consumption experience in such a way that a product (conventionally conceived) performs services that bring about desirable experiential events. In this sense, by the way, all products are services, and the distinction between the two becomes meaningless. Given this definition, I have gone on to develop a Typology of Customer Value based on three key dimensions or distinctions. For simplicity here, I shall refer to these as either/or distinctions, though we must realize that shades of grey always appear along what are really continuous dimensions between two extremes. First, Customer Value may be extrinsic (insofar as it refers to an offering prized for its ability to serve as a means to some desirable end) or intrinsic (insofar as it refers to an experience appreciated as a self-justifying end-in-itself ). Second, Customer Value may be self-oriented (insofar as it relates to something that I prize for my own sake, for how I respond to it, or for the effect that it has on me) or other-oriented (insofar as it relates to something that I appreciate for the sake of others, for how they respond to it, or for the effect that it has on them). Please notice that, here, “others” may be regarded at varying levels ranging from a family member or friend or colleague to a reference group or circle of acquaintances or club to the Universe or Mother Nature or the Deity. Third, Customer Value may be active (resulting from my manipulation of the relevant offering in the sense that I act on it) or reactive (reflecting my response to the relevant offering in the sense that it acts on me). Combining these three distinctions (or dimensions) results in my Typology of Customer Value (Figure 19.1). Over the years, I have refined and tweaked this typology in various ways that have now culminated, as shown in Figure 19.1, in a version that I refer to as the “Eight Es” – meaning that each of the relevant value types (in CAPITAL LETTERS) begins with the letter “E” (with examples shown parenthetically in Small Letters).

Self-Oriented

Other-Oriented

Extrinsic

Intrinsic

Active

EFFICIENCY (O/I Ratio; EVC; Convenience)

ENTERTAINMENT (Play; Fun; Leisure Activities)

Reactive

EXCELLENCE (Quality)

ESTHETICS (Beauty)

Active

EXHIBITIONISM (Social Status; Impression Management)

ETHICS (Justice; Virtue; Morality)

Reactive

ELITISM (Esteem; Self-esteem; Materialism)

ECSTASY (Spirituality; Rapture; Exultation)

Figure 19.1 Typology of customer value: the eight Es 196

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To summarize briefly: 1

2

3

4

EFFICIENCY refers to the active manipulation of my own consumption as an extrinsic means to achieving some self-oriented end. This is the one type of value that explicitly takes into account the trade-off between “getting” and “giving” – that is, the contrast between what I acquire and what I sacrifice. Colloquially, we sometimes speak of “value for the money,” as when we make a particularly frugal purchase at a price-discount store. More formally, efficiency is often measured as an O/I Ratio (that is, a ratio of outputs to inputs) or as Economic Value to the Customer (EVC, computed as the net present value of benefits minus costs). Efficiency most often captures our attention when evaluating such highly functional products as automobiles (miles per gallon). Further, we often focus on a special type of efficiency in which the primary input is time – miles per hour in the case of a car or, more generally, Convenience as in the case of a “convenience” store that offers a maximum number of items purchased per minute despite an absence of other discernible benefits (poor selection, high prices, indifferent service, unpleasant atmosphere, and so forth). EXCELLENCE refers to the reactive appreciation of some offering as a potential extrinsic means toward some self-oriented end. Here, the key point is that we admire the product for its capacity to perform well in serving a particular function without necessarily using it for that purpose. A clear example appears in the case of Quality – where we prize the functional capabilities of some product without necessarily engaging in its active use for those purposes. Thus, the quality of my knife lies in the sharpness of its blade (without my actually using it to cut you). The quality of my $1.4-million 6.0-liter V12 700HP Aston Martin One-77 entails its ability to cruise at 220 m.p.h. (without my actually breaking the law by shattering the speed limits on Route 80). EXHIBITIONISM refers to the active manipulation of my consumption as an extrinsic means of attaining some other-oriented goal such as enhancing my Social Status or achieving favorable Impression Management in a job interview. Thus, I might conspicuously park the aforementioned Aston Martin in the driveway of my lavish house overlooking the Pacific Ocean, knowing that my neighbors will be powerfully impressed by this high-status spectacle – all the more because of the exclusiveness implied by the fact that the One-77 is sold to only 77 other discerning-not-to-mention-wealthy individuals. ELITISM refers to my reactive appreciation of my own consumption as the potential extrinsic means to attaining some desired response from others such as Esteem or even – Self-esteem (if I regard my “self ” as an identifiable “other” that I am eager to impress). Again – as in the contrast between efficiency and excellence – the difference between Exhibitionism and Esteem is that, in the latter case, I need only appreciate the potential use of my consumption habits without necessarily flaunting them in the manner that would produce the relevant response from others. Thus, a high level of Materialism implies that I take great satisfaction in owning nice things without necessarily displaying them in public. My potentially enviable “possessions” might even include such intangibles as unique knowledge, skill, or expertise. For example, I might derive some elitist satisfaction from privately enjoying my own automotive know-how when replacing the spark plugs in my Aston Martin One-77. Please note that, here, I use the term “elitism” in a judgmentally neutral sense and not in the pejorative manner in which it is so commonly employed. Under the thrall of political correctness, there is probably no word in our vocabulary that carries such opprobrium as describing someone as “elitist.” The term – as too often used – implies

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5

6

7

8

snobbery, self-satisfaction, and a profound lack of empathy for just plain ordinary folks. But, here, I simply wish to refer to the private delight – the boost in potential esteem or actual self-esteem – that a person might feel as the result of a “job well done” or, in this case, a consumption task performed in a way that others would implicitly approve. ENTERTAINMENT refers to the active manipulation of my own self-oriented consumption experience in a way that I enjoy intrinsically for its own sake as an end-in-itself. This definition captures the essence of Play, Fun, or Leisure Activities – namely, that they serve no ulterior purpose but are pleasing in and of themselves. Otherwise, they would become “work” (that is, an activity pursued for reasons of efficiency or exhibitionism). Hey, my Aston Martin One-77 is just so much fun to drive. I feel the sun on my elbow, the wind in my hair, the throb of the throaty roar from the 700HP engine. What a ball, getting my kicks on Route 66. (By the way, did you know that the composer of that famous song, Bobby Troup, was a Wharton graduate?) ESTHETICS refers to my reactive appreciation of my own self-oriented consumption as an experience intrinsically valued for its own sake as an end-in-itself. Thus, I derive esthetic value from Beauty experienced in the world around me – in scenes from nature, in paintings by Matisse, in Bruckner’s Ninth Symphony, in Julianne Moore. It goes without saying that my Aston Martin One-77 is the veritable epitome, the nonpareil paragon, of beauty on wheels. Just look at those sleek lines, those graceful curves, that scintillating silver color, that toothy front grill, those recessed headlights – indeed, the whole awe-inspiring aerodynamic design. All things considered, my Aston Martin One-77 is so beautiful that I hardly dare drive it for fear of a disfiguring scratch, dent, or bird dropping. ETHICS refers to the active manipulation of my consumption experiences for the sake of the intrinsically valued benefits that they have for others – as when I pursue Justice by paying my taxes so as to fund steadily declining education in the public schools and everdiminishing service on the local buses; when I seek Virtue by avoiding the temptation of my favorite candy bars and vanilla frozen custard; or when I honor Morality by steering clear of the “F” word and those alluring porn sites. It goes without saying that my purchase and ownership of an Aston Martin One-77 attains key aspects of ethical value – as when it guarantees jobs for at least six otherwise unemployed British factory workers at the company’s plant in Gaydon (Warwickshire, UK); when it subsidizes the fortunes of shareholders in ExxonMobil, thanks to the car’s rather thirsty 11-miles-per-gallon gasoline habit; or when I avoid polluting the atmosphere with fumes from its astonishingly noisy engine by not really driving it very much. Indeed, this whole story carries some important honestyrelated ethical implications insofar as – truth be told – I do not actually own an Aston Martin One-77 (in case you were wondering). Rather, it is a pure figment of my febrile imagination, which leads us to … ECSTASY refers to my reactive appreciation of consumption experiences valued intrinsically for aspects that involve a disappearance of the self–other dichotomy – as when I feel a sense of Spirituality, Rapture, or Exultation. Obviously, such transcendent moments may occur at the heights of religious experience, during Stendahl-like encounters with magnificent works of art, or at the peak of imaginative fantasies involving extravagantly appealing but realistically unattainable sports cars. Thus, the spirituality–rapture–exultation responses associated with my imaginary Aston Martin One-77 entail a merging of the self with the other at a level that transcends mere reality and enters the realm of pure fantasy. As John Keats reminded us, “Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard / Are sweeter” (Ode on a Grecian Urn).

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As the sensitive reader will no doubt have noticed and as I have tirelessly insisted on any number of occasions, all eight of the aforementioned types of customer value are likely to coexist in any or even in every consumption experience – albeit in varying degrees depending on the product, the consumer, the context, and various other circumstances. In the words of the philosopher, all eight value types tend to be compresent – that is, to occur simultaneously – in virtually any case of consumer behavior. I have illustrated this phenomenon of compresence in the case of an automobile – my imaginary Aston Martin One-77 – but, needless to say, exactly the same argument pertains to the case of a painting, a sculpture, a symphonic composition, a television show, an artist, a performer, a film, a play, a concert, a musical recording, a gallery, a museum, and indeed any aspect of the High Arts or pop culture of interest to the arts administrator or entertainment marketer. Thus, the main point of the present chapter is that – without compromising the artistic integrity inherent in a given artistic offering – opportunities exist to broaden its audience by virtue of appealing to at least eight different types of customer value, some of which are more/less important to one/another segment of consumers. By making each market segment aware of benefits suited to its own distinct value-oriented proclivities, arts marketers can achieve far greater market penetration than would be possible by catering to just one or a few customer segments pursuing just one or a few types of value. All this hinges on the aforementioned compresence of at least eight value types in virtually any arts-related consumption experience. To illustrate this point, let us consider the example of the New Gary Burton Quartet, which appeared on the night of Wednesday 21 September 2011 at the Blue Note jazz club in New York City’s Greenwich Village (Gary Burton on vibraphone, Julian Lage on guitar, Scott Colley on bass, and Antonio Sanchez on drums). Careful introspection suggests that, for me, the appearance by this jazz quartet provided all eight types of customer value in abundant quantity, as follows. Efficiency. The cost of an evening at the Blue Note to see Gary Burton’s group play an 80-minute set is at least $40 – that is, a $35 cover charge plus a $5 minimum from the restaurant/bar (though the latter can add up to a lot more than that if you happen to be hungry or thirsty). It happens that Burton has developed perhaps the most blazing instrumental technique of any living jazz musician. Using his own innovative four-mallet approach he pours out more notes at higher volume than virtually any vibes player whom one might recruit to challenge his supremacy on the instrument. This means that, in terms of his O/I ratio (measured in notes per second or decibels per minute), Gary reigns supreme. (Somewhat surprisingly, having twice sat literally under Burton’s vibes on the stage above me, I can vouch for the fact that, in his hands, the vibraphone is an amazingly loud instrument.) Further, in terms of Economic Value to the Customer (EVC, measured as the present value of benefits minus the $40 out-of-pocket cost), Burton-at-the-Blue-Note clearly dominates the various $200-a-seat Broadway shows that offer significantly less artistry or entertainment at considerably greater expense. For somebody visiting New York on a budget, such considerations can matter greatly and suggest the advantages of marketing Burton and other artists appearing at the Blue Note or comparable jazz clubs as providing a “good value for your money.” The folks sitting next to us at the Blue Note were from Orlando and, especially compared with Disney World, seemed thrilled at the under-$50 economics of the Gary Burton Show. Excellence. An appreciation of the excellence in Gary Burton’s playing stems especially from an admiration for those moments in which he holds his potential virtuosity in check and delivers some kind of soulful bluesy phrasing or some sort of soft tender balladry. Here, the secret to quality lies in a reactive response to the subtlety of power-held-in-check. Such an appreciation of quality affects my own response to Gary’s restrained performance 199

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(with guitarist Lage) of “Gorgeous” by Mitchell Forman on Burton’s recent album for Concord Jazz entitled Generations. I once put my CD player on “repeat” and listened to that track over-and-over for a couple of hours. Here, the effect resembles the serenity of the One-77 taking a turn gracefully at, say, a quiet 30 m.p.h. instead of a noisy 220 miles per hour. We know that it could go faster or get louder, but we admire its quality more for its potential than for its actual speed and sound. Exhibitionism. For purposes of exhibitionism, located in the heart of New York’s Greenwich Village – the quintessence of hipness in many people’s minds – the Blue Note is a propitious place to be seen, displaying one’s sophisticated jazz tastes in a chic atmosphere that makes a favorable impression on, say, a date or a business associate. Compared with a proposition such as “Let’s grab a beer-and-burger at the Olive Garden,” an offer of “Let’s take in a set at the Blue Note” conveys some sort of status in the City’s artistic community. I, personally, would never dream of frequenting a night club just for the sake of appearing cool. But I have every confidence that the idea has crossed the mind of many a parvenu seeking to impress a significant other. Elitism. I myself am more guilty of succumbing to the reactive side of exhibitionism – namely, elitism – in which my self-esteem hinges on knowing things or owning things that fall beyond the purview of most ordinary folks. For example, though I would not succumb to the temptation of bragging about my record collection in public, I take a sort of quiet satisfaction from my secret awareness that I own 22 LPs and 29 CDs by Gary Burton – probably more than most dedicated jazz fans. Beyond these materialistic concerns, I also take some pride in having acquired enough background knowledge to follow along mentally as Gary negotiates various tricky chord progressions or to recognize obscure tunes that he performs without announcing their names. At the Blue Note, for example, he played “I Hear a Rhapsody” (by George Fragos, Jack Baker, and Dick Gasparre) and “Bag’s Groove” (by Milt Jackson) unannounced. I derived some clandestine pleasure from recognizing these tunes without help from the performers. I felt no need to share this information with those sitting near me in the audience – not even the lady from Orlando. It’s more a question of below-the-radar self-esteem. Entertainment. Gary Burton provides a good example of a musician who is not afraid to cater to the tastes of audience members coming to his music from the side of pop culture. Back in his early days, circa 1960, he embraced country music and made an album for Columbia called Jazz Winds from a New Direction with the great country guitarist Hank Garland – later followed up by Tennessee Firebird under Gary’s own name on RCA. After stints with the very popular groups led by George Shearing and Stan Getz, during the mid-1960s, Burton grew his hair long, sported a mustache, wore trendy Beatles-type clothing, and fronted a quartet that included the rock-tinged guitarist Larry Coryell (e.g., Lofty Fake Anagram on RCA/ BMG). Other crowd-pleasing habits have included tributes to the familiar music of various swing-era masters such as Red Norvo and Lionel Hampton (For Hamp, Red, Bags, and Cal on Concord Jazz) or Benny Goodman (Benny Rides Again with clarinetist Eddie Daniels on GRP Records). Then there are the multiple tributes to the tango king Astor Piazzolla (e.g., Astor Piazzolla Reunion and Libertango on Concord Jazz or The New Tango on Atlantic Jazz), not to mention the revival of classical treasures by Ravel, Rachmaninoff, Scarlatti, and Brahms (Virtuosi with pianist Makoto Ozone on Concord Jazz). I could go on, but the point is that Gary Burton happily makes his music accessible – playful, fun to listen to, and a prime example of leisure-as-opposed-to-work in what can otherwise be the challenging art form of jazz. All this and more appear with impressively vivid clarity on Gary’s self-promoting website at www.garyburton.com. To some extent, this is art-for-mart’s sake. 200

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Esthetics. By contrast, for jazz purists, Gary Burton provides unmatched esthetic moments of the highest possible artistic integrity – that is, the purest form of art-for-art’s-sake. Nowhere is the beauty of his conception more apparent than in his solo performances – strongly influenced by the harmonic innovations of Bill Evans on piano – in which he does things with four mallets that most pianists would struggle to duplicate with ten fingers and that are as technically brilliant as they are sonically delicious. Favorite examples would include “Chega De Saudade (No More Blues)” (Alone At Last, Atlantic Jazz) and “My Foolish Heart” (Live in Cannes, Jazz World). Appreciated as ends-in-themselves – that is, as experiences treasured for their own sake – the beauty of these creations attains a profound level of esthetic magnificence. Ethics. Gary Burton evinces a highly developed sense of ethics more conspicuous than that found among many members of the jazz community. First, until his retirement in 2003, Burton served for 33 years on the faculty of the Berklee College of Music in Boston, ultimately rising to a top position of leadership and administrative responsibility at the school (first Dean of Curriculum, then Executive Vice President). Obviously, his work as a teacher served to bolster the careers of many young aspiring students of jazz. When hearing Gary perform at the Blue Note, I noticed a definite tendency for him to announce tunes in ways that are instructive as well as entertaining – mentioning the composer, the title, and important details about each composition to be played. Apparently, the sharing of knowledge and wisdom is an ingrained part of his nature. Second, in a similar manner, Burton has served as a mentor to fledgling musicians on their way up. He recruits promising youngsters as members of his band and gives them a chance to shine. At the Blue Note, his band featured three young fellows whom he introduced with great respect and whose compositions he played at length – namely, “Never the Same Way” (by bassist Scott Colley), “Etude” (by guitarist Julian Lage), and “Common Ground” (by drummer Antonio Sanchez). Another repertoire choice entitled “Last Snow” was written by a former youthful member of a Burton group (Ukrainian pianist Vadim Neselovskyi). In watching the Burton Quartet at the Blue Note, I was struck by the extent to which he seems to support these younger musicians. Most conspicuously, Gary announced that he has been playing with the guitarist Lage since Julian was 12 years old. They first recorded together when Julian was 15, then again at age 17. Lage is now 23. At 68 years old, Burton is more than old enough to be Julian’s grandfather. Third, Gary has displayed considerable sensitivity to social concerns in his handling of issues pertaining to the place of homosexuality in the jazz world. In this connection, I heard him speak at a panel discussion on the experiences of gay jazz musicians at the Village Vanguard during the late 1990s. Here, again, Gary serves as something of a role model for others. Apparently, after a couple of failed marriages to women, Burton found that he liked men and embarked upon a longterm relationship that, because of its public nature, required him to come “out of the closet.” In sharing his experiences with others, he adopted an ethically enlightened stance. Paradoxically, he appeared confused and even disappointed that no jazz critics or commentators have bothered to comment on any potential aspects of his musical persona that might reflect his evolving sexual preferences. At the Blue Note, I could detect nothing in his music or demeanor that would relate to his love life – one way or the other. Ecstasy. There are times in Gary Burton’s playing when he – taking the listener with him – appears to achieve a nearly miraculous rapport with his instrument, a merging of musician (self ) and vibraphone (other) that works toward also drawing the listener (self ) into the music

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(other). The apparent merging of self and other in a musical performance is a rare event in my experience. (For an especially impressive example, see the performance by Keith Jarrett of “Solar” on his Solo Tribute DVD.) The merging of self and other in the listening experience seems comparably rare and leads, as a form of spirituality, to what can only be described as ecstatic feelings of rapture and exultation. Watching Gary Burton – body swaying, arms flailing, wrists snapping – attain one-ness with his vibraphone contributes greatly to this sort of rapturous exultation. Further, the instrument itself evokes a sort of spiritual essence with its clear bell-like tones and inherent purity of sound. In a sense, a three-octave vibraphone is “nothing but” a set of 37 perfectly adjusted tuning forks. More than virtually any other instrument, its sound has a pristine, ethereal, heavenly quality. (For another rapture-inducing example of the vibraphone playing a celestial role, try Milt Jackson’s solo on the Modern Jazz Quartet’s recording of “Over the Rainbow” from the Fontessa album on Atlantic Jazz.) The bottom line from all this is that a performance by Gary Burton – like virtually any other artistic offering – appeals to all eight basic types of customer value: efficiency, excellence, exhibitionism, elitism, entertainment, esthetics, ethics, and ecstasy. Obviously, different market segments adopt consumption criteria that reflect more or less of these eight different value types. The trick to successful arts marketing, I believe, is to appeal to all these value types simultaneously, remembering that they are in no way mutually contradictory and, indeed, that they are all potentially compresent in any consumption experience. We might ask whether the Blue Note has succeeded in doing this in the brochure that we found on our table at the jazz club. Amidst voluminous announcements of coming events, a full page of this pamphlet is devoted to the Gary Burton New Quartet (featuring the other musicians mentioned earlier). Having read this promotional write-up only after writing the preceding comments, I feel somewhat vindicated to note that all of our eight types of customer value are covered, as follows: Efficiency – the cover charge of “$35 @ TABLE / $20 @ BAR” Excellence – “incredible musicianship … incredible improvisation in a group setting” Exhibitionism – “the No. 1 spot on Billboard magazine’s jazz chart … the Sixth Grammy for Burton at the 2009 Grammy Awards” Elitism – “an honorary doctorate of music from [Berklee] college” Entertainment – “compositions that drew from all over the map … collaborations with old friends and new, including tours and recordings with Chick Corea, Pat Metheny, Makoto Ozone, Spanish pianist and composer Polo Orti, and French accordionist Richard Galliano” Esthetics – “Alone at Last, a solo vibraphone concert” Ethics – “discovering more than a few youngsters who later became legends … in the 1970s, Burton began his music education career at the Berklee College of Music in Boston … he was named Dean of Curriculum in 1985 … and in 1996, he was appointed Executive Vice President” Ecstasy – “smashed conventions and blew audiences away” It appears that Gary Burton’s publicists (Ted Kurland Associates) – doubtless with help from the man himself – have done a good job of reflecting on ways in which this stellar musician contributes to attaining all eight types of customer value described herein. Anyone reading the Blue Note write-up or countless other promotional materials available on-line and elsewhere – not to mention the cover story on Gary’s quartet in the October 2011 issue of DownBeat magazine – cannot help but conclude that, in his marketing efforts as in his musical

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accomplishments, Gary Burton offers all eight types of customer value to which different market segments might aspire in varying degrees. In retrospect, his success seems assured from the start.

Further reading Gallarza, Martina G., Irene Gil-Saura, and Morris B. Holbrook (2011), “The Value of Value: Further Excursions on the Meaning and Role of Customer Value,” Journal of Consumer Behaviour, 10 (4), 179–191. Holbrook, Morris B. (1994), “Axiology, Aesthetics, and Apparel: Some Reflections on the Old School Tie,” in Aesthetics of Textiles and Clothing: Advancing Multi-Disciplinary Perspectives, ITAA Special Publication No. 7, ed. Marilyn Revell DeLong and Ann Marie Fiore, Monument, CO 80132-1360: International Textile and Apparel Association, 131–141. Holbrook, Morris B. (1994), “The Nature of Customer Value: An Axiology of Services in the Consumption Experience,” in Service Quality: New Directions in Theory and Practice, ed. Roland T. Rust and Richard L. Oliver, Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 21–71. Holbrook, Morris B. (1996), “Customer Value – A Framework for Analysis and Research,” in Advances in Consumer Research, Vol. 23, ed. Kim P. Corfman and John G. Lynch, Jr., Provo, UT: Association for Consumer Research, 138–142. Holbrook, Morris B. (ed.) (1999), Consumer Value: A Framework for Analysis and Research, London: Routledge. Holbrook, Morris B. (1999), “Conclusions,” in Consumer Value: A Framework for Analysis and Research, ed. Morris B. Holbrook, London: Routledge, 183–197. Holbrook, Morris B. (1999), “Introduction to Consumer Value,” in Consumer Value: A Framework for Analysis and Research, ed. Morris B. Holbrook, London: Routledge, 1–28. Holbrook, Morris B. (2005), “Customer Value and Autoethnography: Subjective Personal Introspection and the Meanings of a Photograph Collection,” Journal of Business Research, 58 (1), 45–61. Holbrook, Morris B. (2006), “Consumption Experience, Customer Value, and Subjective Personal Introspection: An Illustrative Photographic Essay,” Journal of Business Research, 59 (6), 714–725. Holbrook, Morris B. (2006), “ROSEPEKICECIVECI versus CCV – The Resource-Operant, SkillsExchanging, Performance-Experiencing, Knowledge-Informed, Competence-Enacting, CoproducerInvolved, Value-Emerging, Customer-Interactive View of Marketing Versus the Concept of Customer Value: ‘I Can Get It For You Wholesale’,” in The Service-Dominant Logic of Marketing: Dialog, Debate, and Directions, ed. Robert F. Lusch and Stephen L.Vargo, Armonk, NY: M. E. Sharpe, 208–223. Holbrook, Morris B., and Kim P. Corfman (1985), “Quality and Value in the Consumption Experience: Phaedrus Rides Again,” in Perceived Quality: How Consumers View Stores and Merchandise, ed. Jacob Jacoby and Jerry C. Olson, Lexington, MA: D. C. Heath, 31–57. Sánchez-Fernández, Raquel, M. Ángeles Iniesta-Bonillo, and Morris B. Holbrook (2008), “The Conceptualization and Measurement of Consumer Value in Services,” International Journal of Market Research, 51 (1), 93–113.

Additional listening Besides the various LPs, CDs, and DVDs mentioned in this chapter, the interested reader/listener will find numerous vivid examples available at YouTube (www.youtube.com). To find excellent illustrations of the work by Gary Burton and others, I highly recommend visiting that website and searching for the following key-word combinations (listed alphabetically): “Gary Burton Chega De Saudade”; “Gary Burton Larry Coryell Berlin”; “Gary Burton Makoto Ozone Scarlatti”; “Gary Burton Pat Metheny Umbria”; “Gary Burton Piazzolla Reunion Libertango”; “Keith Jarrett Solar Japan”; “Modern Jazz Quartet over the Rainbow”; “New Gary Burton Quartet Bag’s Groove”; “New Gary Burton Quartet Common Ground”; and “New Gary Burton Quartet Vienna Afro Blue.” Also, please be sure to check out Gary’s website at www.garyburton.com.

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20 THE IMPACT OF THE ARTS EXPERIENCE ON AUDIENCES Jennifer Radbourne

Introduction In 2004 when McCarthy, Ondaatje, Zakaras and Brooks gave us Gifts of the Muse, they laid claim to a new discourse of the subjective benefits of the arts experience for individuals. Despite the seminal works by Hirschman and Holbrook (1982, 1984) on the consumption experience, arts organizations until most recently were still intent on surveying and measuring audience satisfaction as opposed to the audience experience. As audiences have become more demanding and interested in co-production, their capacity to articulate their emotional, social and psychological needs and expectations, have moved far beyond an audience survey seeking motivations and barriers to attendance, levels of satisfaction only slightly removed from service quality, and the usual demographics. The new arts consumer is individual and independent, capable of making a quality judgement based on their personal values described thus: Intrinsic benefits refer to the effects inherent in the arts experience that add value to people’s lives … [T]here are personal effects that develop with recurrent aesthetic experiences, such as growth in one’s capacity to feel, perceive, and judge for oneself and growth in one’s capacity to participate imaginatively in the lives of others and to empathize with others. And some works go beyond such personal effects, providing a common experience that draws people together and influences the way the community perceives itself, thereby creating intrinsic benefits that accrue to the public. (McCarthy et al. 2004: 37) This chapter examines research on the intrinsic needs of audiences participating in the arts experience and proposes an “experience journey” where audiences derive intrinsic benefits through various zones of impact.

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Arts marketing – customer satisfaction to audience experience In 2001, mainstream marketing research texts were exalting the fact that most businesses had “become increasingly committed to the idea of customer satisfaction and product/service quality” (Aaker et al. 2001: 673). Measurement of customer satisfaction was the vehicle for planning and goal setting. The customer defined the quality of the product and the continuance of the organization. When the term “needs” was referenced, it was in the “critical needs assessment” of the company’s performance, competitive positioning and market segmentation. It had nothing to do with customer needs or audience needs. With declining arts audiences in the late 1990s, arts marketing research emerged probing the issue of audience development for the arts. Kotler and Scheff pointed out that the performing arts operate under financial constraints and productivity limitations, and a “purely marketcentred philosophy is inconsistent with what the concept of art is all about” (Kotler and Scheff 1997: 17). Their research claimed that arts organizations must shift their focus away from the supply side (product development) of the equation, and emphasize the demand side. Audiences and communication must be increased. Artistic decision-making must be balanced with audience needs and preferences. “Together the artistic director, managing director, and marketing director can create an experience that is ultimately satisfying to the artists, the audiences, and the organization itself” (Kotler and Scheff 1997: 25). Their book contains many examples and marketing strategies from across the world, however their reference to audience needs and the “experience” has no relationship to contemporary research on the intrinsic needs of audiences and the audience experience. By 2007, Scheff, now writing as Scheff Bernstein, produced a second book with a final chapter entitled “Focusing on the customer experience and delivering great customer service”. It did not deal with collecting information from customers about the emotional journey during the performance, but rather challenging marketing managers to “think holistically about every single customer touch point and every stage in the customer life cycle” (Scheff Bernstein 2007: 249). In the same year, 2007, the third edition of Colbert’s Marketing Culture and the Arts included a discussion on the experiential nature of arts and cultural goods and how this creates an additional element of risk for consumers because “cultural products appeal not only to consumers’ minds but also to their emotions” (Colbert 2007: 95). He explained how the previous experience of the consumer affects their decision-making behaviour and how individual variables frame the consumers’ capacity to take risks. Then followed an important section on affective processes and hedonistic consumption, where Colbert recognized that the utilitarian view of consumers’ decision-making processes has dominated marketing theory (p. 107) and ignored how consumers derive pleasure from the affective experience of arts participation. The hedonic and symbolic dimensions of consumer behaviours stress the active nature of consumption. Consumers of cultural products are not merely passive observers: they are co-creators of the experience. Their participation may be manifested physically – applauding during a performance, sharing impressions with others – but it also entails reactions that may not be observable. In this perspective, the cultural organization does not provide a rigid, uniform experience for all consumers; rather, it provides them with the symbols and tools to create their own meaning, fires their imagination, and guides their subjective experience. (Colbert 2007: 112)

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Colbert acknowledged the early research on consumption behaviour by Holbrook and Hirschman (1982) who shocked marketing colleagues with their article “The experiential aspects of consumption: consumer fantasies, feelings, and fun”. Holbrook and Hirschman argued that consumer behaviour was not necessarily rational and logical, but could “be seen as involving a steady flow of fantasies, feelings, and fun encompassed by what we call the ‘experiential view’” (p. 132). They presented and described a new consumer behaviour model which contrasted the historical information-processing view of marketers to the new experience inputs. The arts and entertainment were used as a rich example of a product with subjective features and symbolic meaning that lead to the consumers’ development of cognitive imagery and intrapersonal analysis of emotions and feelings during the consumption experience and activity. The outputs are fun, enjoyment and pleasure as opposed to functions, results and satisfaction. Hirschman and Holbrook pointed to a shift of attention towards this experiential view in the arts, and the critical need for investigation of “multisensory psychophysical relationships in consumer behaviour” (p. 134). Their comment on the historical focus by consumer researchers on the individual characteristics of demographics, socioeconomic status and psychographics, and later on lifestyle variables, reflect the basis of survey data used by many arts organizations. Inherently Hirschman and Holbrook provided a persuasive argument that experience with a product only happens with actual consumption. Satisfaction is only one component of the experience, and “the stream of associations that occur during consumption (imagery, daydreams, emotions) may be equally important experiential aspects of consumer behavior” (p. 138). Pine and Gilmore (1998) then welcomed us to the experience economy, claiming that “experiences are a distinct offering” (p. 97) and should not be lumped in with services. They described an experience as “inherently personal, existing only in the mind of an individual who has been engaged on an emotional, physical, intellectual, or even spiritual level” (p. 99). This is similar to what Hirschman and Holbrook (1982) outlined in the experience view of consumer behaviour. Pine and Gilmore directly describe the progression of value: goods are tangible, service is intangible, and experiences memorable. They explain for the practitioner how to design the memorable experience where the key is to understand the characteristics of experiences. Consumers or customers are participants in the experience (passive or active) and are connected to the event or performance by absorption at one end of the continuum, to immersion at the memorable end of the continuum. In sum, the experience is memorable, personal, and revealed during consumption through the stimulation of various senses that meet the customers’ needs. In 2004, Petkus examined the relevance of Pine and Gilmore’s research to arts marketing, claiming that arts organizations now recognized that a marketing orientation was essential to their success, and that their “product” was experiential in nature (Petkus 2004: 49). He takes Pine and Gilmore’s four realms of the experience “entertainment, education, aesthetic and escapist” and describes how each is fulfilled in the arts experience. He concludes that the entertainment dimension involves sensing, the educational dimension involves learning, the escapist dimension involves doing and the aesthetic dimension involves being there (p. 51). Petkus argues that experiential arts marketing should include the means to get feedback from audiences, because by involving the audience in the process, the feedback can be perceived as part of the overall arts experience. For example, inviting audience members to special focus groups or “critiques” can impart a sense of involvement that taps into the escapist and educational dimensions of experience. Arts patrons who feel that they have had a part in creating future arts experiences are likely to be loyal, dedicated patrons. (Petkus 2004: 54)

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Petkus concluded that the arts market could be segmented based on the different types of experiences different audiences seek, rather than relying on standard demographics and psychographic variables. The next shift in marketing literature and in the research that pertains to the arts experience reviews the nature of co-production. These changes are tracked by Tynan and McKechnie (2009) and show the shift to understanding the values and needs of customers craving a personal experience and the role of customers in the co-creation of value. They analyse Lusch and Vargo’s Service Dominant Logic as follows: One of the foundational premises of S-D logic, which proposes that the consumer is always a collaborator, brings with it two assumptions: firstly that the value is determined by the user during the consumption process and not just at the point of exchange, and secondly that the customer participates in the creation of core offering thereby becoming a co-producer. (Lusch et al. 2007 in Tynan and McKechnie 2009: 507) They explain the transitions of product offerings to experiences, benefit attributes to solutions, co-production to co-creation of value, and integrated marketing communication to dialogue. This is critical to the arts experience where there is an exchange of knowledge, skills and expertise between performers and their audience. Tynan and McKechnie describe the outcomes of the experience from the consumer’s perspective: enjoyment, entertainment, learning, skills, nostalgia, fantasizing and evangelizing (pp. 508–509).

The arts experience and intrinsic benefits These intrinsic effects of the consumption experience became the centre of the discourse on the arts experience from 2004. Arts marketing researchers seized the concept of the intrinsic benefits of the arts experience, having struggled for decades to accommodate the instrumental benefits required by investors and to develop arts marketing strategies that increased attendance and delivered a significant value proposition to audiences. The same descriptors, such as intangibility, needs, values and creativity, appear in the new literature, but there is a new confidence in proposing that the arts are intangible and difficult to define; that they lie beyond traditional quantitative social science tools; that economic and public outcomes limit the true value of the arts; and that an arts experience is not separate from “ordinary life” (McCarthy et al. 2004: 37–38). McCarthy et al. referenced aesthetics, philosophy, literary and film criticism, and artists’ accounts of the creative process, to develop their range of intrinsic benefits of the arts and how these personal benefits affect the public sphere. They acknowledged that the consumption of art, termed “encounter a work of art” (p. 41), moves the participant in a way not unlike the emotional experience of discovery of the artist. Curiosity is stimulated and questions emerge. The arts consumer then engages in a shared discourse to deepen their appreciation and provide feedback to the artist. It is this discourse that enhances society and culture as more people think, write and argue about the art. There are private and public benefits derived from the arts experience: captivation, pleasure, expanded capacity for empathy, cognitive growth, creation of social bonds and the expression of communal meaning. The authors then go on to discuss the impact of these intrinsic benefits to the individual participant and to the public, particularly the transformation of occasional to frequent participation. Along this journey come increased social networks, associated identity, expanded knowledge of a particular art form, skill development in making art or in supporting arts organizations. Their 207

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studies show that those engaged in arts experiences are more tuned into their intrinsic benefits and develop a positive attitude to the arts and are motivated to return. They see engagement as a social experience and engage mentally, emotionally and socially, building their intrinsic benefits through their own evaluation of what has been experienced. In the United States, Brown and Novak (2007), and in Australia, Radbourne and colleagues (2009), were conducting research with arts audiences to identify how individual audience members describe their experience during a performance and thus determine the dimensions of the arts experience. Brown and Novak built on the work of McCarthy et al. and conducted their research “to empirically measure the short-term benefits on an individual level, of being in the audience for a performing arts program” (Brown and Novak 2007: 7). Their analysis revolved around the readiness of audiences to participate and the impacts of participation in the performance experience. The “readiness constructs” of context, relevance and anticipation gathered data on how much experience and knowledge individuals had about the performance and performing arts in general, and their expectations of the performance. The “impact constructs”, surveyed immediately after the performance, were designed to capture the impact of several intrinsic benefits of the audience experience: captivation, intellectual stimulation, emotional resonance, spiritual value, aesthetic growth, and social bonding. As part of the study, Brown and Novak included a module of questions about satisfaction, which was then correlated with the assessment of the intrinsic impacts of the live performance. The intent was to replace the satisfaction surveys with impact surveys. They found that satisfaction levels “highly correlated with impacts, suggesting that they are largely redundant with impact data” (p. 17). The authors suggest that customer satisfaction is too blunt a measurement tool for arts presenters and producers, and maybe this is why so many arts professionals are uncomfortable with simple satisfaction measures. They acknowledged that feedback on satisfaction with various aspects of the customer experience (e.g. quality of ticketing, venue accessibility and facilities) can be useful from a sales and service viewpoint, but this information relates to the “extrinsic” part of the customer experience (p. 17), not the intrinsic benefits. In Australia, Radbourne et al. were engaged in research with arts audiences to determine the emotional response to the performance and the role the audience played in the performing arts. The initial study, over 2007 and 2008, comprised seven focus groups with audience members for five productions of live music or theatre performed by three companies at three venues in Melbourne, Australia. The questions prompted respondents to reflect on the nature of their experience as audience members and to consider a variety of elements which enhanced or detracted from that experience. The responses demonstrated intrinsic benefits which were common in all focus groups. Knowledge/learning: respondents asserted the importance of information as a part of the audience experience and its role in providing opportunities to learn; Quality measures: respondents discussed the importance of an authentic experience that they defined as “quality”; Risk: respondents recognized a sense of risk as a key marker of their experience as performing arts audiences; and Live-ness: respondents noted that the experience was qualitatively different to the experience of being an audience for the non-live (recorded) arts, noting in particular the nature of “liveness” as a shared, communal audience experience. The findings were refined to set down four dimensions of the audience experience as in the following list:

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Knowledge transfer or learning

Risk

Authenticity

Collective engagement

Information to increase understanding, personal development and growth through exposure to social issues/content/ interpretation of script or score, scope for cognitive analysis, need for learning and new knowledge, diffusion of ideas, link between creativity and new knowledge. Functional (meet expectations and quality guarantee), economic (value for money, cost in relation to making decision to attend), psychological (performance versus self-image), social (perception of others), fear of confrontation, ethical challenges, hedonic aspirations, impact of innovation. Believability, meaning and representation, sincerity, performance matches promotional description, performers’ engagement in own performance, performers’ relationship with audience, technical standards of performers, relationship with originality, meets quality expectation. Ensuring expectations of social contact and inclusion are met, the shared experience, social constructs and meaning, common values, influence of live experience on cognitive analysis and emotional response, interaction or understanding between performers and audience, clues to behaviour, discussion after the performance, engagement with other audience members (verbal and non-verbal).

From these indicators of the audience experience Radbourne devised an Index of the Arts Audience Experience which could be calculated from a bank of agreement and importance statements incorporated in an audience survey.

Surveying audiences The simple survey was designed to be as accessible as possible for arts companies to use annually, online, collecting data on their audience experience. The first three questions set the context for respondents. Question 1 identified which show or performance the responses related to, thus making analysis relevant. Question 2 set a context for anticipation by this respondent, and allowed for later cross-tabulation of experience to expectation. Question 3 established the respondent’s familiarity with the venue, playwright/composer/choreographer, and company, as well as whether they liked to attend with others and how they may relate to other audience members, and their preferred frequency of attendance and level of anticipation. Question 4 contained the first of two sets of questions providing data on the audience experience. The statements in the question requiring a rating of importance to this respondent clarified the “readiness” of this audience member against the four indicators of the audience experience: knowledge (K), authenticity (A), risk (R) and collective engagement (CE). Thus if it is not important to the respondent that there is pre-show information or that the respondent is not seeking increased understanding or intellectual stimulation, then this may influence the actual experience of cognitive growth. Together the responses to all statements around each indicator can be summated for measurement, but it is possible to cross-tabulate the responses to Questions 4 and 5. Question 3 and Question 4 direct the respondent to reflect on intrinsic needs or expectations before the performance.

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Question 4 Rate the importance of the following to your experience at performing arts events in general, where 1 is not at all important and 5 is very important. Notes about the performance and the work are included in the program. The company/arts centre presents my preferred type of shows. The performance matches expectations from the promotional description. Audiences know there are established rules for audience behaviour (e.g. when to clap, no speaking during the performance). The actors, dancers, singers or musicians show technical skill and understanding of the work. I have previously seen or heard this work (production), or accessed a preview on the Web. When I attend a performance I want to be challenged to think differently about ideas and issues presented in the production. Audience members have the opportunity to discuss the performance with others after the show.

K R A CE A R K CE

Question 5 Rate your agreement with these statements about the performance you have just attended, where 1 is do not agree at all and 5 is agree strongly. The quality of the performance was worth the cost of attendance (ticket, transport, parking, personal). The reputation of the performers was matched by the quality of the performance. I learned something new from this performance. My enjoyment or appreciation increased because I understood the meaning of the production. The best performers were those who communicated directly with the audience. Other members of the audience seemed to have a similar response to the performance as I did. I felt tense and excited at moments during the performance. Attending this live performance with other people increased my understanding of how audiences and performers interact.

R A K K A CE R CE

Question 5 directly measures the respondent’s experience during the performance against the four Arts Audience Experience Indicators. There are two statements for dimensions of each indicator. Questions 6, 7, 8 and 9 collected demographic data which could be used to correlate with responses to other questions. Summary responses of surveys from 14 performances at two performing arts centres in the Australian states of Victoria and Queensland highlight the intrinsic impacts of the audiences. The first delivery of the survey in 2009 to 25 members of a theatre audience showed the strongest audience experience indicator was Authenticity (mean 4.5 out of 5) and the second, Collective Engagement (mean 4.375 out of 5). Individual statement responses showed respondents valued the quality of the performance, their relationship with the performers and with other audience members. They had a low rating for risk capacity (mean 3.75).

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The impact of the arts experience on audiences

The second delivery of the survey in 2011 at the same arts centre surveyed 306 audience members for several performances: an orchestral concert, a children’s show, a musical, a choral concert and two theatre performances. The highest rating across all shows was for the quality of the performance (Authenticity, mean 4.15) and the second for Collective Engagement (mean 3.55). The lowest rating (mean 3.5) was for Knowledge, indicating a low quest for learning from attendance at the performances. There was also a low capacity for risk and an expectation that intrinsic needs will be met. While the survey enabled calculation of the Arts Audience Experience Index, a focus group at this arts centre articulated the audience’s descriptions of the intrinsic impacts of the performance, as follows:

I expect to be entertained. I don’t go along and see people I don’t like, so it’s a real thrill, it’s an experience and very important. It’s just a feast for the senses. Everything is being bombarded with stimulation; it just makes you feel alive and excited. I really like to just be able to experience my emotions through characters in a more anonymous kind of environment. I laughed really loud and really hard and I’m not that kind of person actually … I just went with what my experiences were and I think actors do pick that up. It’s a communal feeling and I had people behind me snorting and giggling and gurgling and it was a wave of just sheer humour that was engulfing people and they were reacting physically to it. There was a very communal sense about that. At the second performing arts centre, the surveys, delivered in 2012 to audiences at two children’s shows, a stand-up comedy performance, a cabaret performance, theatre and a popular music performance, were combined with a suite of service satisfaction questions and questions seeking input from respondents as to how they found out about the performance and which type of performance they would be interested in attending in the future. The highest agreement (73 per cent) was for the benefits of attending with other audience members and sharing their response. The quality of the show being worth the costs of attending also rated highly (67 per cent agreement). However, audiences gave a low rating to learning from the performance (47 per cent agreement). This arts centre previously delivered “satisfaction” surveys and results had shown that audiences wanted entertainment and rated high levels of satisfaction with what they had attended. The new survey with “experience” indicator questions has allowed the company to differentiate audience needs and understand the intrinsic benefits each market segment holds. Holbrook and Hirschman stated in 1982 that satisfaction is only one component of the experience. This, together with the findings by Brown and Novak (2007) that satisfaction is a blunt measurement tool and best understood as providing data on extrinsic not intrinsic benefits, has been confirmed by this new survey on the audience experience. There is no evidence at this time that the work of these two arts centres in identifying the intrinsic needs of their individual audience members has led to a new cultural identity for the community or societal enhancement of the region. However, both centres are committed to evaluating their influence in their own communities, and have planned to invest in testing this.

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Audience consumption experience The audiences in these studies experienced a process of emotional response, reflection and collaboration, where “sensing, learning, doing and being there” (Petkus 2004) produced a kind of co-creation. The engagement of the audience with the performer, such that both parties are dependent on the interrelationship to produce an authentic quality outcome or experience of the performance at that moment, embodies co-creation (Radbourne 2010: 6). Many artists describe the need for audience feedback or reaction to enrich their performance, just as audiences described their explicit aesthetic and emotional experience during a performance. Audience or consumer value rests with their personal quest for creativity or utility. Transformation through the arts experience becomes, in one sense, collaboration with the artist. The performing arts are sustained by their audiences. The values the company has adopted and communicates, the depth of understanding of their audience, and the capacity of that audience to engage with the new product or programme, lead to audience development. Risk capacity is strengthened when the audience is involved through artist talks, feedback panels, blogs, surveys and post-show events. Learning and education develop expert critics who “talk up” or evangelize the company or production or performance, and increase reputation. Loyalty brings repeat attendance which achieves sustainability for the company. These are the progressive impacts of a rich arts experience. Figure 20.1 shows a set of “zones” the audience member may travel through in their “experience journey”. Each zone encompasses the experiential impacts recognized by the researchers referenced in this chapter. These Experience Impact Zones commence with Holbrook and Hirschman’s (1982) hedonic impact of “fantasies, feelings and fun”. The second zone of experience is Pine and Gilmore’s (1998) “memorable immersion” which extends the hedonic impact to cognitive inquiry and intrapersonal analysis. The impacts that emerge from the audience participation in discovery, collaboration and co-creation, are demonstrated through “sensing, learning, doing, and being there” in the next zone. This is extended through full engagement by the audience which delivers on the intrinsic impacts of Brown and Novak (2007) and those Arts Audience Experience Indicators of Radbourne et al. (2009). Finally these intrinsic impacts influence the community and society. An audience member may enter a particular zone of experience dependent on their intrinsic needs at that time. They may seek to stay in that zone for the particular arts experience and needs satisfaction or move on to another zone to satisfy other intrinsic needs. This “experience journey” culminates in the zone where the audience member is contributing to a changed society through the arts experience.

Hedonic impact

Memorable immersion

Fantasies Feelings Fun

Cognitive inquiry Intrapersonal

Audience discovery and collaboration Sensing Learning Doing ‘Being there’

Figure 20.1 Experience impact zones

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Intrinsic impacts for the individual

Intrinsic impacts for society

Engagement Knowledge Aesthetic growth Emotional resonance Spiritual value Risk-readiness

Evangelizing Communal meaning Social networks Societal enhancement Attitudes to the arts Cultural identity

The impact of the arts experience on audiences

Conclusion The critical factor in the arts experience and audience consumption is the recognition of the intrinsic needs of every audience member and how audience engagement delivers repeat attendance and, consequently, company sustainability. Individual intrinsic impacts produce loyalty, advocacy and evangelizing, and thereby the long-term impact of a society that has creativity at its core. Customer satisfaction is not engagement. Customer or consumer satisfaction is a marketing term arising out of a focus on service quality. It places limits on the audience or consumer because it does not move beyond transactions to shared understandings, interdependence and creative fulfilment. Engagement is defined by the audience experience and measured in the satisfaction of intrinsic benefits. Audiences follow an “experience journey” where intrinsic impacts develop and increase as they pass through arts experience zones.

References Aaker, D., Kumar, V. and Day, G. (2001) Marketing Research, 7th edn, New York: John Wiley. Brown, A. and Novak, J. (2007) Assessing the Intrinsic Impacts of a Live Performance, San Francisco, CA: Wolf Brown. Colbert, F. (2007) Marketing Culture and the Arts, 3rd edn, Montreal: HEC. Hirschman, E. (1984) “Experience seeking: a subjectivist perspective of consumption”, Journal of Business Research, 12(1), 115–136. Hirschman, E. and Holbrook, M. (1982) “Hedonic consumption: emerging concepts, methods and propositions”, Journal of Marketing, 46, Summer, 92–101. Holbrook, M. and Hirschman, E. (1982) “The experiential aspects of consumption: consumer fantasies, feelings, and fun”, Journal of Consumer Research, 9, September, 132–140. Kotler, P. and Scheff, J. (1997) Standing Room Only: Strategies for Marketing the Performing Arts, Boston, MA: Harvard Business School Press. McCarthy, K., Ondaatje, E., Zakaras, L. and Brooks, A. (2004) Gifts of the Muse: Reframing the Debates about the Benefits of the Arts, Santa Monica, CA: RAND Corporation. Petkus, E. (2004) “Enhancing the application of experiential marketing in the arts”, International Journal of Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Marketing, 9(1), 49–56. Pine, B. J. II and Gilmore, J. H. (1998) “Welcome to the experience economy”, Harvard Business Review, July–August, 97–105. Radbourne, J. (2010) “Co-creation: consumer partnership or consumer demand”, lecture presented at Mount Allison University, Sackville, Canada, as part of the Year of Culture and Creativity. Radbourne, J., Glow, H., Johanson, K. and White, T. (2009) “The audience experience: measuring quality in the performing arts”, International Journal of Arts Management, 11(3), 16–29. Scheff Bernstein, J. (2007) Arts Marketing Insights: The Dynamics of Building and Retaining Performing Arts Audiences, San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Tynan, C. and McKechnie, S. (2009) “Experience marketing: a review and reassessment”, Journal of Marketing Management, 25(5–6), 501–517.

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21 CONSUMER MOTIVATION AND THE ARTS Conceptualizing a motivation-benefit model for understanding tourists as audiences Pandora Kay

Introduction Motivation is the focus of much research for understanding consumer behaviour, yet current literature into arts and motivation is still described as scant (Armstrong and Slater 2011). This contrasts with the context of tourist behaviour, where much is known about the motivation of tourists in general and segments characterized by their participation in selected activities, including arts and cultural experiences. Context-specific cultural experiences represented within these tourist motivation studies include cultural or heritage tourists (Alzua et al. 1998; Foo and Rossetto 1998) and various visitors attending arts, cultural and/or historical festivals and special events or attractions (Backman et al. 1995; Crompton and McKay 1997; Formica and Murrmann 1996; Formica and Uysal 1996, 1998; Mohr et al. 1993; Slater 2007; van Zyl and Botha 2004). Less is known about the psychological dispositions of the tourist market in general, towards attending selected activities, such as cultural experiences, especially in relation to the more temporal cultural performances, festivals and events, yet these major tourist markets potentially represent new audiences for these cultural attractions. Such cultural experiences are important for those destinations that position and market themselves as ‘cultural and event capitals’ such as New York, Greater London, and Melbourne, Australia. It is not surprising, therefore, that some of the extant research on arts audience motivation has already focused on these contexts as will be detailed later in this chapter when the literature of relevance to the focal topic of arts motivation is reviewed. From an arts and cultural perspective, the complex motivations of audiences for art forms such as theatre remain unclear (Walmsley 2011). Performing arts, with theatre as a prime example, have been described as complex pastimes that ‘bridge the fields of arts and leisure and the drivers of aesthetics, hedonics, emotions, education and entertainment’ (Walmsley 2011: 336). Audience development remains a salient matter for most arts and cultural organizations for many reasons and this has created a need for better models of audience participation and better strategies for reaching new audiences (Wiggins 2004). As arts organizations face increasing pressures, including competition for audiences from alternative leisure pursuits (Bennett and Kottasz 2006), 214

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understanding why people participate (or not) in the arts is central to arts marketing and consumer behaviour research. Motivation is a psychological construct that provides the ‘motor for behaviour’ (Fiske and Taylor 1984) and, as such, it has played an evolving role in consumer research since the 1950s (Pincus 2004). An aim of this chapter is to review the relevant motivation literature in order to develop a suitable model for understanding tourists as audiences for cultural experiences, including the temporal cultural performances, festivals and events, and, hence, their consumer motivation towards these types of cultural experiences. A quantitative modelling approach is adopted as the basis of this conceptual model.This continues earlier motivation studies of customers of the performing arts in New York (Garbarino and Johnson 1999) and Western France (Bouder-Pailler 1999) (see Table 21.1) but, in this instance, the application is to better understand the potential of tourists as arts and cultural audience participants. Of further relevance to understanding motivation and behaviour, of tourists in particular, is the importance of cross-cultural differences. Multiple reasons have been acknowledged including: (i) growing internationalization, (ii) cultural characteristics being vitally important to the attractiveness of the product itself, and (iii) tourism being a service industry where people from different nationalities meet (Pizam and Fleischer 2005). Consequently a growing body of literature over the last decade has examined a breadth of aspects of tourism behaviour for cross- cultural differences from which insightful findings in support of such influences have Table 21.1 Summary of art audience motivation literature Authors

Context/population sampled/research participants

Major research objective

Research approach/ methodology

Qualitative (Armstrong and Slater 2011)

Motivational constraints Southbank Centre UK/ Interpretive, 5 focus to cultural SBC bookers who are groups membership drawing not members on marketing and leisure literature

(Geissler et al. 2006)

Influences on decision to visit art museums with themes identified including benefits and motives

(Hume et al. 2007)

The consumers’ General performing arts In-depth interviews experience to identify experience with drivers of repurchase general current and intention and potential consumers conceptual target (not in-situ) segments

(Slater and Armstrong 2010)

The involvement construct and cultural membership drawing on marketing and leisure literature

Art museum members

(Walmsley 2011)

Fundamental drivers behind audience motivation for theatre experiences

Theatre goers at 2 Responsive depth companies, Melbourne interviews/ and West Yorkshire observation

Current visitors of 2 art museums in SE USA

Ethnographic, 4 focus groups/content analysis

Interpretive, 59 interviews

continued 215

Table 21.1 Summary of art audience motivation literature (Continued) Authors

Major research objective

Context/population sampled/research participants

Research approach/ methodology

(Bennett and Kottasz 2006)

Causes and potential consequences of bad or ‘terrible’ experiences during performances including influencing personal factors (e.g. expectations) and role of external factors

Audience members at Survey/factor analysis/ performing arts venues SEM in Greater London

(Bouder-Pailler 1999)

Modelling extrinsic and intrinsic motives for going to the theatre

Theatre goers from 4 Survey/factor analysis/ cultural organizations, in SEM Nantes,Western France

Quantitative

(Garbarino and Johnson Analysis of the Customers of SEM for mediating 1999) relationships between professional nonprofit constructs and satisfaction, trust, and repertory theatre in differences between commitment to NY in 3 commitment 3 customer groups compare satisfaction groups (subscribers, attitudes and future occasional subscribers, intentions for low and individual ticket high relational buyers) customer groups (Minor et al. 2004)

Modelling music In-situ rock concert; Survey/factor analysis/ performance satisfaction convenience sample t-test and testing for of respondents who demographic had recently attended differences to a musical performance understand consumer motivations in attending performances

(Slater 2007)

Motives of visitors to Participants at 2 events gallery events applying in a nationally Beard and Ragheb’s acclaimed gallery (1983) leisure motivation scale to identify benefits sought by participants. T-test results of differences in visitors between those first time and returning; visiting alone or in groups; planned and spontaneous participants

Survey/factor analysis/ t-test

(Swanson and Davis 2006)

Roles and relationships Patrons of live theatre between importance performing arts attributes for quality experiences experience with satisfaction and theatre patron commitment

Survey/PCA/factor analysis/ANOVA

continued

Consumer motivation and the arts Table 21.1 Summary of art audience motivation literature (Continued) Authors

Major research objective

Context/population sampled/research participants

Research approach/ methodology

(Tian et al. 1996)

Constraints and benefits sought from museum visitation

Visitors of 5 different Survey/PCA/factor types of museums analysis including art museums, Texas, USA

Conceptual (Bourgeon-Renault 2000)

Evaluation of cultural Arts and culture consumer behaviour research for changes in theoretical principles and analysis with comparison of the experiential paradigm and the information processing models for cultural behaviour decision-making

Literature review/ conceptual

(Wiggins 2004)

Reconceptualization of Arts audience the RAND model of development audience development for the arts, using the Motivation/Ability/ Opportunity model from the consumer behaviour literature

Literature review/ conceptual

Motivation and preference for music experiences by attendees (African American, non-African American)

Survey

Cross-cultural research dimension (Kolb 2002)

On-site research of ethnic attendance at African American classical music concert, USA

Notes: ANOVA = Analysis of Variances, PCA = Principal Component Analysis, SEM = Structural Equation Modelling.

emerged (e.g. Crotts and Erdmann 2000; Crotts and Pizam 2003; Reisinger and Crotts 2010). Within this growing body of literature, several studies focus on tourist motivation and crosscultural influences (see Table 21.2). Some of these studies are in non-cultural activity-specific contexts, but other cultural activity-specific studies also include cross-cultural influences on the tourists’ motivation. In the arts audience motivation literature, cross-cultural studies are extremely rare. This can be seen in the Table 21.1 summary of this literature where most quantitative studies examine the influences on motivation of personal demographics and other consumer behaviour, but only one study with a specific cross-cultural research focus is identified (Kolb 2002). Despite the vast body of cross-cultural literature, understanding how culture influences consumer behaviour is still open to question, including cross-cultural studies of tourist behaviour, and the influence of national culture in particular. Another aim of this chapter, therefore, is to contribute to the present gap for cross-cultural research in relation to tourists’ motivation towards cultural experiences. 217

Table 21.2 Empirical studies of relevance to tourist motivation that incorporate cross-cultural dimensions (non-cultural tourism-related/cultural tourism-related) Authors

Major research objective

Tourism context

Population sampled

Cross-cultural research (non-cultural tourism-related) (Kozak 2002)

Comparative analysis of tourist motivations by nationality and destinations

Mallorca and Turkey vacations

British and German tourists

(C.-K. Lee 2000)

On-site research of cultural differences and motivation for a world cultural expo

South Korea

Caucasian (Americans, Europeans) and Asian (Koreans, Japanese) visitors

( J. A. Lee and Kacen 2008)

Individualism/ Non-tourism collectivism cultural influences on consumer satisfaction

US and Australian consumers, Singaporean and Malaysian consumers

(Litvin and Kar 2004)

Individualism/ Singapore vacation collectivism as a moderating factor to the self-image congruity concept and destination satisfaction on departing destination

35 nations, international tourists

(Litvin et al. 2004)

Cross-cultural tourism USA behaviour involving Hofstede’s Uncertainty Avoidance dimension

58 nations, leisure visitors

(Lord et al. 2008)

Individualism/ collectivism and other cultural influences on cross-border vacationing

Cross-border vacationing

North American, HK

(Pizam and Fleischer 2005)

Individualism/ collectivism and other cultural influences on characteristics and preference for tourist activities

Active and passive tourist activities

11 nations (inc. Western and Asian)

(Pizam and Sussman 1995)

UK tour guide perceptions of influences of nationality on tourists’ behaviour

UK tours

Japanese, French, Italian and American tourists

(Reisinger and Turner 1997, 1998, 1999)

Individualism/ Australia vacation collectivism and other cultural influences for how collectivist tourists differ from Australian hosts

Indonesian, Korean and Japanese tourists

continued

Table 21.2 Empirical studies of relevance to tourist motivation that incorporate cross-cultural dimensions (non-cultural tourism-related/cultural tourism-related) (Continued) Authors

Major research objective

Tourism context

(Reisinger and Turner 2003)

A book on CrossVarious tourism Cultural Behaviour in Tourism: Concepts and Analysis

Various tourists

(Woodside and Jacobs 1985)

Comparative analysis of Hawaii vacation benefits derived from travelling to the same destination

Canadians, Americans, Japanese

(Yuan and McDonald 1990)

Attitudes towards, preferences for and motivational determinants of selected vacation travel attributes

Japan, France, West Germany and UK international tourists

Overseas travel

Population sampled

Cross-cultural research (cultural tourism-related) (Crompton and McKay 1997)

On-site research of motives of visitors

Cultural and sporting International tourists events at San Antonio Festival, USA

(Foo and Rossetto 1998) Characteristics and Australia vacation motives on departing destination

Cultural tourists

(Formica and Uysal 1996) On-site cross-cultural research of behavioural, motivational and demographic characteristics of festival visitors

Umbria Jazz Festival, Italy

Umbrian Italian and out-of-region others

(Formica and Uysal 1998) On-site cross-cultural research of behavioural, motivational and demographic characteristics of festival visitors

Spoleto Festival, Italy

Italian and others

(Kay 2009)

On-site cross-cultural research of motives towards cultural experiences

Performing arts on Australian vacation

Western (USA, UK and Ireland, NZ, Australian domestic) and Asian (Chinese- and Japanese-speaking)

(McKercher and Chow 2001)

Cultural distance and participation in cultural tourism experiences

Cultural tourism at HK destination

Asian (Chinese Taipei, China mainland, Singapore) and Western (UK, USA, Australia)

Arabic cultural festival Jordan

Attendees

(Schneider and Backman On-site research of festival motivation 1996)

Pandora Kay

H8a,b,c

H8d

Culture (Regional Geographic Tourist Markets/Language Spoken) H7

Stage 1: Pre-Cultural Experience

Stage 2: Cultural Experience

Stage 3: PostCultural Experience

Behaviour/Activity H1

Motives H4

H2 Attitudes

H5 H3

Benefits Gained

H6

Benefits Sought

Figure 21.1 Conceptual model of tourists’ cultural experience motivation-benefit process with culture (regional geographic tourist markets/language spoken) as a moderator Source: Adapted from Mannell’s (1999) motivational process model.

A multidimensional, multistage process approach to motivation To understand tourists’ motivation for these cultural experiences, and any influence of national cultural differences, a process approach will be adopted in this conceptual model, based upon the general model of motivation from the social psychology of leisure literature (Mannell 1999; Mannell and Kleiber 1997). The applicability of motivation models across leisure, recreation and tourism, with motivation as a driving force for recreation activities and tourism behaviour, is supported by various researchers (e.g. Dunn Ross and Iso-Ahola 1991; Iso-Ahola 1980, 1982). In their review of social psychological theories of tourist motivation, Harrill and Potts (2002) assert, ‘any consideration of the social psychology of tourist motivation should begin with discussion of the social psychology of leisure, within which the concept of motivation is grounded’ (p. 106). More recent support for applying motivation approaches from leisure to tourism can be seen in the research that empirically tests Iso-Ahola’s (1980, 1982) four-dimensional motivation theory of personal/interpersonal and escaping/seeking dimensions for similar tourism and recreation experiences (Snepenger et al. 2006). Hence, this chapter proposes applying motivation models from leisure and tourism to understand consumer motivation for the arts, especially as the primary interest is an understanding of tourists as audiences for cultural experiences while on holiday. The incorporation of multidimensional constructs in tourist motivation models has been gaining momentum since early foundation research that mostly used scale-based motivation incorporating both push and pull items (Crompton 1979; Dann 1977, 1981). More recent studies of tourist motivation have drawn heavily on social psychology as well as leisure research. The results have produced various processing approaches to motivation that involve multidimensional constructs, often inextricably linked to expected outcomes of behaviour, and measured in ways that could be described as multistaged approaches. For example, when seeking understanding of 220

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the motives for leisure behaviours, Dunn Ross and Iso-Ahola (1991) studied motive and satisfaction dimensions important to sightseeing tourists. Their method used a two-stage, pre- and post-activity approach. Further support for a multistage approach to tourist motivation encompassing pre-and post-activity dimensions is empirical research of campervan tourists by Gnoth (1999). His approach tested motivational dimensions of expectations (as expectancy values) and final attitudes of satisfaction (post-activity) with the related construct of intended activities (preactivity). It was multistage by asking tourists their reasons for choosing a campervan before they took possession of the vehicle, and then their attitudes formed after the holiday when they returned it. Building on this previous work, this chapter explores understanding tourist motivation as audiences for cultural experiences by adopting a process approach that is multidimensional as well as multistaged and uses a similar repeat-measurement approach. As many different constructs have been used in quantitative motivation research to date with only a few studies investigating the relationship between some of these constructs, the constructs that will be incorporated in this model of tourist motivation for cultural experiences were selected from the literature as discussed later in this chapter. While a new conceptual model is proposed for understanding tourist motivation for cultural experiences, it is a process-based model that is founded upon Mannell’s (1999) motivation model from the leisure literature and a social psychological approach towards motivation from the tourism literature. Mannell’s (1999) motivation model is also favoured for adoption in this study because it acknowledges that people possess a multitude of psychological dispositions that play a role in the motivational process. According to Harrill and Potts (2002), important issues to be addressed in tourist motivation models include the issue of multi-motive causation of behaviour motivation, with a focus on the individual while also recognizing that individual experiences cannot be separated from social environments. Hence, tourist motivation models need to consider the behaviour of the individual tourist in social contexts and to identify psychological disposition-influencing social behaviour. Three stages comprise the basic components of the motivational process from the leisure literature (Mannell 1999): stage 1 – needs/preferences (drives/motives/desires/expectations); stage 2 – behaviour or activity; and stage 3 – goals or satisfaction/psychological benefits. All three stages are incorporated in the proposed conceptual model for tourists’ cultural experience motivation (see Figure 21.1). Major strengths of this model are its incorporation of motivational components that have a direction and energy, producing states of disequilibrium. Motives, for example, encapsulate the fundamental internal activating factors of motivation that have been described by Mannell (1999) and others as ‘drive’ or ‘force’. The consumer actions of experiencing and undertaking activities reduce this disequilibrium. The first and third stages of the model are the primary focus to be studied as these are the psychological dispositions before and after the activity (Figure 21.1). Stage 2 of the model recognizes that the activity itself and the consumer’s behaviour experiencing this activity are influenced by the pre-experience motivations which in turn have an influence upon the post-experience outcomes. The activity and consumer behaviour of interest (Stage 2) are tourists’ motivations towards attending cultural experiences at the destination. The activity itself is measured indirectly through pre- and post-activity psychological dispositions (Stages 1 and 3).The proposed context chosen for testing the model in subsequent research is to sample general tourists from major regional geographic markets of Eastern and Western tourists for the destination at the Queen Victoria Market (QVM) which is a produce market uniquely located in the Melbourne central business district. As well as incorporating heritage listed buildings and entertainment events, it

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functions as one of Melbourne’s most popular tourist attractions, as listed in the top 15 activities for visitors to Victoria (Tourism Victoria 2010). The resultant data set to be used in subsequent research for testing the model and cultural differences for Western and Eastern regional geographic markets will comprise four major English-speaking, Western tourist markets from six nationality groups (Australians, New Zealanders, North Americans from the United States of America and Canada, and residents from the United Kingdom and Ireland) and two Eastern tourist markets of Chinese-speaking and Japanese-speaking international tourists. The proposed conceptual model for cultural experience motivation presented in this chapter will enable three research objectives to be pursued: (1) to test the underlying dimensionality of the motivational process constructs of attitudes, motives, expectations (benefits sought) and benefits gained for selected major markets of Eastern and Western tourists; (2) to model the relationships between the constructs, specifically testing the mediating role of the pre-experience antecedent constructs of attitudes, motives and benefits sought on each other and on the post-experience outcome of benefits gained; and (3) to test culture as a moderating variable on the resultant model constructs and their interrelationships.

The motivation-benefit model for cultural experiences The conceptual model constructs, literature and hypotheses The literature on tourist motivation is vast, yet the conceptual development of an integrated social psychological approach has yet to be achieved (Harrill and Potts 2002). In response to this identified gap in the tourist motivation research, a new conceptual model based on four constructs of relevance to the motivational process for cultural experiences derived from the literature is proposed (Figure 21.1): attitudes, motives, benefits sought (expectations) and benefits gained (behavioural outcome). These four psychological dispositions have featured strongly as individual constructs of interest within the vast body of tourism research in general, and some of the four constructs have been included in previous quantitative research of motives for cultural attendance (e.g. Bouder-Pailler 1999) and motives for cultural tourism (e.g. Foo and Rossetto 1998; McKercher et al. 2002; Richards and Queiros 2005). Each of these four constructs has been discussed extensively in the literature from the different perspectives of consumer behaviour, cultural attendance, leisure or tourism as the review of the literature in this section will show, but no previous studies have examined the structural relationships among these four variables simultaneously. This is a gap in existing research to which this proposed model aims to make a contribution. Each of the key constructs in the proposed model is based on motivational dispositions which have been described as similar to the idea of personality traits that influence our aroused motives (Mannell 1999). Attitudes are incorporated in this model as one type of relevant motivational predisposition that influences motives and are defined as the affective or feeling responses that consumers have toward an object or a general evaluation of an object (Fishbein and Ajzen 1975), whereas motives are summarized as an internal factor that arouses, directs and integrates a person’s behaviour (Iso-Ahola 1980). Expectations are included in the form of benefits sought because expectations have been conceptualized as the motivational force underlying leisure behaviour (Manfredo et al. 1983). Benefits sought are one type of expectation that has been widely researched in the tourism context both cultural and non-cultural related (see Table 21.3). Benefits gained have also been widely researched in a tourism context both cultural and noncultural related (as also seen in Table 21.3) and in this model represent one type of post-activity psychological disposition that is closely linked to the activity predisposition expectation of 222

Table 21.3 Empirical studies of relevance to tourist motivation that incorporate tourist benefits (sought/ gained; non-cultural-related/cultural-related) Authors

Major research objective

Tourism context

Population sampled

Benefits sought (non-cultural tourism-related) (Frochot 2005)

Benefit segmentation 2 rural areas, Scotland and relationship with activities preferences

Overnight visitors

(Hsieh et al. 1997)

Travel decision pattern Vacation choice based on multistage segmentation by travel benefit sought, travel philosophy and travel product preferences

Japanese leisure

(Heung et al. 2001)

Travel decision-making and choice of destination based on 5 vacation factors including benefits sought

Japanese leisure

( Jang et al. 2002)

Benefit segmentation USA destination and identification of optimum target market

Hong Kong

(Lang and O’Leary 1997) Multi-segmentation of Nature travellers benefits sought outbound vacation (motivation); activities; destination attributes and travel philosophy

Japanese leisure

Australian travellers

(Loker and Perdue 1992) Vacation benefit Travel in North Carolina, Non-resident leisure segmentation and USA identification of optimum target market (McCool and Reilly 1993)

Benefit segmentation 3 state parks, USA and relationship with preferences for setting attributes and expenditure patterns

State park visitors

(Moscardo et al. 1996)

Benefit segmentation (motivation) and relationship with activities

Australian travellers

Outbound vacations

Benefits sought (cultural tourism-related) (Alzua et al. 1998)

Multidimensional Culture and heritage segmentation using tourism benefits sought and activities to understand vacation motives

UK outbound

(Frochot 2004)

Benefit segmentation (motivation) and influence on quality evaluationw

Historic property visitors

3 historic houses, UK

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Table 21.3 Empirical studies of relevance to tourist motivation that incorporate tourist benefits (sought/ gained; non-cultural-related/cultural-related) (Continued) Authors

Major research objective

(Tian et al. 1996)

Benefit segmentation Museums, Texas, USA (benefits measured were a mix of motives, interests and benefits) and relationship with selected independent variables to identify potential target markets by cross-tabulation of benefits and constraint clusters Benefit segmentation Heritage sites, USA

(Weaver et al. 2002)

Tourism context

Population sampled Museum visitors

US travellers

Benefits gained (non-cultural tourism-related) (Shoemaker 1994)

(Woodside and Jacobs 1985)

Benefit segmentation of Domestic vacations image of last destination visited attributes and comparison with ideal destination planning concerns Multidimensional benefit Hawaii segmentation based on benefits and experiences realized

US populations

Canadians, Americans, Japanese

Benefits gained (cultural tourism-related) (Prentice et al. 1998)

Benefit segmentation Industrial heritage park, UK leisure, non-leisure defined by benefits UK tourists and day derived and trippers experiences, and then with groups described by motivations and socio-economic profile

benefits sought. Some of these previous tourist studies have used benefits sought or pursued or benefits gained or realized as a method for operationalizing the measurement of motivations or motives. For example, Frochot (2004: 227) states, ‘in order to evaluate the motivational profile of visitors, benefit segmentation was applied’. (See Table 21.3 for a summary of studies that link tourist benefits to motivation or motives in their research.) Benefits are considered one major approach to tourist motivation research, due to a widely held belief of some association between tourists’ motivations and benefits (sought or gained), although the exact link is still to be tested and proven (Frochot and Morrison 2000). Similarly, Alzua et al. (1998: 3, 6) further claim a link between benefits and expectations, which has been under-researched from an international perspective and in relation to cultural and heritage tourists in particular, with ‘relatively little [is] known of cultural and heritage tourists’ characteristics, benefits pursued in travel activities or expectations’. Their definition of benefits sought as an attitude ‘which may influence travellers’ in their choice of activity participation and frequency 224

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also suggests associations between benefit expectations and tourist behaviour. Other tourist motivation process conceptual frameworks link expectation formulation to motivations and identify expectations as influences on tourist choice processes as well as perceptions of experiences (Gnoth 1997) which in turn can influence the tourist satisfaction process (Rodriguez del Bosque et al. 2009). This previous research identifies benefits sought and gained as key dimensions of relevance to the tourist consumer motivational process. The proposed motivation-benefit model for tourist cultural experiences when applied in later research will empirically test this, with the further objective of testing the relationships between the four motivational process constructs proposed in the model. Hence, the new use of benefits constructs in this research is to include them as two separate constructs in the cultural experience motivational process (one as pre-activity expectations and the other as post-activity behavioural outcome). It will measure the underlying dimensionality of these two benefit constructs and consider the relationships between the two separate benefits constructs and the other two constructs in the motivational process model of attitudes and motives towards cultural experiences. Although some directional links between these constructs were suggested conceptually within the previous discussion, as a new conceptual model in the cultural experience context, the hypotheses for the directional influences between the four constructs are largely sequential but inclusive. Attitudes are associated with motives (H1) and the expectation of benefits sought (H3) as well as the post-activity variable of benefits gained (H5). Similarly, motives are influenced by attitudes (H1), and are then associated with expectation of benefits sought (H2) as well as benefits gained (H4). In turn, the expectation of benefits sought has been influenced by attitudes (H3) and motives (H2) and is associated with benefits gained (H6). H1. Stronger attitudes towards cultural experiences are associated with stronger motives for partaking in these experiences. H2. Stronger motives to partake in cultural experiences are associated with higher expectations of benefits sought. H3. Stronger attitudes towards cultural experiences are associated with higher expectations of benefits sought. H4. Stronger motives to partake in cultural experiences are associated with greater benefits gained. H5. Stronger attitudes towards cultural experiences are associated with greater benefits gained. H6. Higher expectations for benefits sought are associated with greater benefits gained.

Mediating role of pre-experience psychological dispositions on post-experience outcome In subsequent research, the mediating role of some of the pre-experience antecedent constructs of attitudes, motives and benefits sought on each other and on the post-experience outcome of benefits gained would be also explored as proposed within the conceptual model (Figure 21.1). These mediation paths (e.g. H1 and H2 = H3, H1 and H4 = H5, H2 and H6 = H4, H3 and H6 = H5) are based upon the basic causal chain involved in mediation as outlined by Baron and Kenny (1986) which in turn draws upon the most generic formulation of a mediation hypothesis whereby an active organism intervenes between stimulus and response as recognized by Woodworth (1928 cited in Baron and Kenny 1986).

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Tourist attitudes are proposed as antecedents that can affect other psychological antecedents such as intentions and then external behaviours, similar to the theory of planned behaviour (Ajzen 1991; Ajzen and Fishbein 1980). Modified versions of this theory have been widely applied in tourism research to examine various human behaviours to predict future behaviour of tourists, for example, leisure choice (Ajzen and Driver 1992), travel destination choice (Bamberg et al. 2003; Lam and Hsu 2006), nature-based tourist behaviour (H. T. Lee 2009) and wine tourist behaviour (Sparks 2007). Conflicting empirical results, however, are suggested by these studies with some using this behavioural theory to argue that tourist attitude significantly affects behavioural intention (Ajzen and Driver 1992; Bamberg et al. 2003; H. T. Lee 2009), while others found no significant relationship between attitude and behaviour intention (Lam and Hsu 2006; Sparks 2007). That attitudes towards behaviour (i.e. attending cultural attractions and experiences in this research) may influence other psychological antecedents, behaviour and behavioural outcomes, either directly or indirectly, is supported by researchers (e.g. Eagly and Chaiken 1993) using an extended model of Fishbein and Ajzen’s (1975) Theory of Reasoned Action (TRA). In the TRA model, utilitarian outcomes associated with behaviour are expressed as behavioural beliefs which from the perspective of the information-processing approach, are formed by evaluating certain attributes of performing the behaviour (Ajzen 1991). People will favour the behaviours that they believe have positive attributes and vice versa. In addition, researchers using the modified theory of planned behaviour in a tourism context and with a mediating variable of satisfaction have found that attitude significantly and directly affects satisfaction, while also significantly and indirectly affecting behavioural intention (e.g. H. T. Lee 2009). Hence these studies of the causal relationships among tourist attitude, satisfaction and behavioural intentions also suggest that attitudes’ influence on other variables may be direct and indirect. Motives have been considered primary drivers of tourist behaviour (Eagles 1992; Fodness 1994). Understanding tourist motivation has also been acknowledged as being complex and generally multifaceted (Crompton 1979; Uysal et al. 1993). The proposed model in the current study suggests that tourist attitudes towards a behaviour, and their motives driving them to experience the behavioural activity, are interrelated. It further suggests that motives driving a particular behaviour will further influence tourists’ expectations in relation to the behaviour such as the benefits they will get and, in turn, this will influence the behavioural outcome of benefits gained from the behaviour. A structural model linking these motivational process constructs and considering the associations between them is a new model proposed for empirical testing.

Underlying dimensionality of cultural experience motivation constructs Each of the four constructs in the model has extensive literature of relevance to their underlying dimensionality as will be discussed briefly below with details outlined in separate papers (e.g. Kay 2009). In summary, the literature suggested multidimensions for each construct that draw upon Iso-Ahola’s (1989) seeking/avoiding tourist motivation theory, Haley’s (1968) utilitarianbased benefit segmentation dimensions, and hedonic-related items because of their relevance to aesthetic products (Hirschman and Holbrook 1982; Holbrook and Hirschman 1982) which are the context of this study. Tian et al. (1996) further claim a conceptual shift in the literature toward experiential and psychological outcomes and away from activities and amenities in their research of benefits from museum attractions for responsive target markets. The inclusion of both types of dimensions within each construct in this study will enable this conceptual shift to be tested. More recent qualitative cultural experience research explores the increasing complexity

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of visitor cultural experiences and indicates that they seek bundled products delivering composite experiences such as edutainment and the like (Addis 2005; Geissler et al. 2006).The inclusion of some attribute-based motives within some dimensions is contrary to the trend acknowledged in the literature of a conceptual shift away from activities and amenities and toward experiential and psychological outcomes (Tian et al. 1996). It is, however, consistent with recent exploratory research of cultural experiences where the provision of ancillary services such as cafes and gift shops are considered to enhance the sociable aspects of the experience (Geissler et al. 2006; Swanson and Davis 2006). This quantitative research would seek to test these exploratory findings.

National culture as an influence on consumer motivation In tourism and many other contexts, Hofstede’s (1980, 2001) five cultural values indices have become the most accepted means to quantify dominant national cultural values (Reisinger and Crotts 2010). Of the five indices, Hofstede’s individualism/collectivism cultural measure is possibly the most applied and cited in cross-cultural tourism studies, particularly wherever research incorporates Western and Asian samples (see Table 21.2 for examples of cross-cultural tourist motivation studies incorporating the individualism/collectivism dimension). Although the findings from the extant cross-cultural research of relevance to tourist motivation are diverse and divergent, one consistent finding is significant difference between Eastern and Western cultures. Some of these comparative studies evidencing significant cultural differences between Eastern and Western cultures in a tourism context focus on individual constructs of interest to this study such as motives or motivation (e.g. Kay 2009; C.-K. Lee 2000) or benefits realized (e.g. Woodside and Jacobs 1985). None of them, however, specifically study culture as a moderating variable on a cultural experience motivational process of four interrelated constructs as proposed in this study. This presents a gap in the understanding of tourists’ motivational process for cultural experiences, and the influence of national culture as represented by regional geographic tourist markets in this proposed research, to which this model aims to make a contribution.

Culture as a moderating variable on cultural experience motivation The conceptual model proposed for testing in subsequent research (Figure 21.1) focuses on the effect of culture on the motivation-benefit process model for attending cultural experiences while on holiday. Culture will be measured primarily by using two proxies of regional affiliation which is a culture assessment approach commonly used in the business literature (Lenartowicz and Roth 1999). Language spoken at home will be one measure of culture used in this study to divide the sample into two cultural groups – Eastern and Western culture. Within the Western culture sample, English language spoken at home overlaid two tourist groups (domestic and international) and four Western consumer markets: Australian tourists who are interstate domestic tourists to Melbourne, and three major international tourist markets (North America, New Zealand, and United Kingdom and Ireland). This Western culture sample further corresponds to the Anglo cluster as categorized by Hofstede (2001) and others (Ronen and Shenkar 1985), where there is an underlying assumption of cultural value similarity representing attitudinal and behavioural similarity. Within the Eastern culture sample, two language backgrounds (Chineseor Japanese-speaking) will be used as the screening question to identify this major group of international tourists to Australia. The model suggests a culture effect in terms of the attitudes, motives and benefits sought associated with attending cultural experiences as well as the benefits

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gained from these experiences, while at the same time suggesting that culture will moderate the relationship between these four constructs. Furthermore, Hofstede’s (1980, 2001; Hofstede and Bond 1988) theory of cultural differences in attitudes towards work suggests that the differences between these two groups of Eastern international tourists from Chinese- and Japanese-speaking backgrounds and Western tourists (domestic and international) will be substantial. Although the English-speaking Western tourists comprise six nationality groups (Australians, New Zealanders, North Americans from the United States of America and Canada, and residents from the United Kingdom and Ireland), Hofstede (2001: 500–502) considered them to be largely similar in terms of cultural characteristics based upon each of his five cultural indices, whereby he presented them together as a psychically close Anglo group. Asian culture patterns were found by Hofstede to be similar on the individualist/collectivist culture index for Japan and China as independent country clusters and a Far East cluster of seven other Asian nations at the time of his research that included Hong Kong and Taiwan. The Asian culture patterns for these groups and independents were all characterized by low individualism, in contrast with the close Anglo group whose culture was noted for high individualism. Therefore when the proposed model is then further tested for differences between Eastern and Western tourists (Figure 21.1), the following hypotheses are proposed: H7. Cultural experiences will differ for Eastern and Western tourists. H8a. Attitude levels will differ for Eastern and Western tourists. H8b. Motive levels will differ for Eastern and Western tourists. H8c. Benefits sought levels will differ for Eastern and Western tourists. H8d. Benefits gained levels will differ for Eastern and Western tourists. While the primary aim of this study would be the comparison of Eastern and Western tourists, gender and age differences would also be tested, as tourism and marketing research has previously shown these differences can be significant, especially in terms of tastes for cultural products (Holbrook and Schindler 1994). It would also be possible to test for subtle differences within the Western tourists as the data sample to be used in the next stage of the testing of the conceptual model includes English-speaking tourists from four geographical markets that correspond to the Anglo cluster, as characterized by Hofstede (2001) and others (e.g. Ronen and Shenkar 1985). For destination marketers of countries such as Australia whose major tourist markets include those categorized as the Anglo cluster, understanding even subtle differences within this cluster can have valuable implications for developing successful operational communication campaigns and offering suitable cultural experiences at the destination.

Conclusion and future research This chapter proposes a new motivation-benefit process model adapted from the leisure and tourist motivation literature for understanding arts motivation, especially tourist motivation towards cultural experiences. The incorporation of attitudes, motives, benefits sought and gained in this new motivation-benefit conceptual model for tourist motivation can, thus, be considered a justifiable variant of the motivation-satisfaction approach identified as the dominant approach of social psychological theories of tourist motivation by Harrill and Potts (2002). As these authors further claim that the conceptual development of tourist motivation is still in a transitional period and an integrated social psychological approach has yet to be achieved, the

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proposed new model in this study seeks to make a further contribution to models and theories explaining this phenomenon in a cultural experience context. As this is a new motivation-benefit process model for tourist motivation towards cultural experiences, modelling the relationships between the constructs is one research objective. The moderating effect of culture on the cultural experience motivation process with comparisons between selected major markets of Eastern and Western cultures is another research objective. Quantitative research using structural equation modelling and invariance testing are highly suitable research methods for testing the research objectives and specific hypotheses proposed in this new motivation-benefit conceptualization of cultural experience motivation and the influence of personal characteristics such as culture.

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22 MEMBERSHIP AND SUBSCRIPTION IN THE PERFORMING ARTS What have we learnt during the last 35 years? Alix Slater

Introduction Membership schemes emerged in British performing arts organizations in the 1960s, much later than in the heritage sector. This is partly due to economic prosperity but also the growth of the arts. One of the oldest performing arts membership schemes in the UK is the Friends of Covent Garden supporting the Royal Opera House in London which dates to 1962. The forerunner of the Friends of English National Opera (ENO), the Opera Club, was established a few years later in 1968 by volunteers to bring their “audiences in closer touch with the company” (Colvin 2006: 120). During the 1980s they were integrated into ENO resulting in the Friends scheme that is still in existence today. There are other well-established schemes for example the Friends of the Philharmonia Orchestra which recently celebrated its thirtieth anniversary and new membership schemes such as the one at the Roundhouse, launched as part of the reopening of the building in 2006. The largest arts membership schemes are affiliated to galleries with paying exhibitions where their membership is primarily driven by free admission. For example, Tate Members, a separate charity that supports the family of Tate galleries, has grown exponentially over the last few years to more than 100,000 members. In contrast, the largest performing arts membership schemes run by national mixed arts venues, film institutes, and dance and opera companies in the UK have approximately 15,000 to 25,000 members, but the norm is for much smaller membership schemes of less than 500 members. The reason performing arts organizations have fewer members is because the member has to pay twice, once for their membership and then again for tickets. Higher level membership schemes, often known as patrons’ schemes, also tend to be small but this may partly be imposed to retain exclusivity on which the patron fee is based. This chapter begins by unpacking the different types of membership that exist in the arts sector. It then synthesizes the academic literature on arts membership and discusses current and future issues facing membership practitioners.

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Characteristics of membership schemes An Arts Council publication defines arts membership as “a product consisting of a range of benefits that are sold for a fee” (Raymond 1992: 5) but this does not reflect the diversity of arts membership schemes. For example, Fraser (1998) differentiates between playgoers’ clubs run by volunteers loosely attached to theatres and in-house membership schemes. A more inclusive and practical approach is to cluster membership schemes into three broad types: subscribers and season ticket holders; membership schemes and friends groups; and patrons or higher level givers. Subscription is most often found at performing arts organizations and is the nomenclature used in many academic papers, particularly those originating in the USA. An individual pays to receive information about the programme but they also receive other benefits such as discounts and early booking privileges.These are what differentiate them from a free mailing list which provides information updates. In the USA in the 1970s and 1980s subscription was the mantra of many arts organizations in response to Danny Newman’s book Subscribe Now! (1977). In the UK the situation is entirely different. One British theatre decided to cap their membership as they were concerned that too many of the audience were subscribers and as an organization regularly funded by the Arts Council they needed to be seen to be accessible. An equivalent in a gallery is a season ticket which provides free admission and possibly discounts in the café and shop. The benefit of both subscription and season ticket schemes to the organization is to drive ticket, café and retail sales. The second group is comprised of membership schemes and ‘Friends’ groups. Friends groups are often formed for strategic and tactical reasons: to respond to a financial crisis, to help campaigns to save buildings or services, to engage audiences and to develop a pool of volunteers. The nomenclature suggests a group with altruistic motivations; however, over time, as the group expands, they often morph into what Putnam (2000) describes as mass membership or “mailing list organizations” and Jordan and Maloney (1997) as “chequebook activism” where there tends to be limited social connectedness between members. Thus, in reality there can be very little difference between a friends group and a membership scheme. In performing arts organizations benefits often include: discounts on tickets and in the shop and restaurant; priority booking; regular information mailings; private viewings; members’ events; and the use of a Friends’ Room or Members’ Bar. They differ from subscription as there is a focus on trying to engage friends and members with the organization. Higher level membership such as a patrons’ scheme is built around altruism. Again nomenclature varies and can include: associates, benefactors, donors and founders (Raymond 1992). The fee that is paid does not relate to the benefits package or use of benefits but is priced according to the level of donation an individual wishes to make. Some organizations also have corporate membership schemes that offer businesses and their employees benefits. The membership landscape also includes umbrella organizations. At an international level the World Federation of Friends of Museums brings together national umbrella organizations such as the British Association of Friends of Museums which supports small, normally voluntary-run friends groups. Similar groups exist for friends of Cathedrals and Abbeys, Mills, Botanical Gardens and Cemeteries. However, there is not an equivalent for voluntary or professionally run subscription, friends or membership schemes affiliated to performing arts organizations. To fill this gap a community of practice of membership managers, the Membership Management Forum (MMF; www.membershipmanagementforum.org.uk) was formed in the UK in 2005. Members currently include national arts organizations, such as the Barbican Centre, English National Opera and Wales Millennium Centre, and smaller arts organizations, such as the Unicorn

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Theatre, Friends of Opera Holland Park and London Symphony Orchestra. First we discuss the membership literature then we draw on the current experiences of practitioners from the MMF.

Membership literature During the last 35 years a nascent body of literature on membership in the performing arts has emerged including studies of subscription and membership schemes affiliated to American theatres, ballet and opera companies, Australian, American and British symphony orchestras, a French theatre and a cultural and performing arts centre, a British mixed arts centre and theatres. They are almost entirely quantitative studies, particularly those originating in the USA and include comparative studies of subscribers and non-subscribers, subscribers across different arts organizations and individual studies of subscribers at one venue exploring the drivers and motives for joining subscription and membership schemes, why some individuals choose to subscribe whilst others remain single ticket buyers and their behaviours.

Drivers and motives of membership What is it that drives some of the audience to purchase membership and what are the constraints that deter others from joining? It is sometimes assumed that subscribers move up a ladder of loyalty, from single ticket buyer to multiple ticket buyer to subscriber and donor. However Ryans and Weinberg’s (1978) longitudinal study of subscribers of a San Francisco theatre in the 1970s drawing on “entry pattern theory” identifies four different groups of subscribers: continual, gradual, sudden and miscellaneous, of which only one group – “gradual subscribers” – exhibits this behaviour. Continual (long-term) subscribers were found to be older and to have lived in the area for longer; “sudden subscribers” join for no apparent reason, participate in fewer cultural activities but are as likely to donate as gradual subscribers; and the final group, as the label suggests, exhibit miscellaneous behaviour. To better understand these behaviours we can draw on the extant literature that explores utilitarian drivers that trigger membership and members’ motives. A study at the Southbank Centre, a mixed arts centre in London (Slater and Armstrong n.d.) identifies four pragmatic drivers for membership: a desire to receive the programme in advance to access information; to secure tickets to a specific performance; to avoid the general booking period and system which sometimes becomes overloaded; and an ability to access the Hayward Gallery in a flexible way without booking, queuing and paying for each visit. Garber et al. (2000) also suggest that the ease of planning and purchase of tickets which membership facilitates may be what subscribers value, rather than discounts. These findings support earlier studies and span art forms and geographical location (e.g. Boyle 2007; Hume et al. 2007; Johnson and Garbarino 2001; Pope et al. 2000; Slater and Armstrong 2010). Another earlier study of members and friends of a selection of arts organizations in the UK (Burns Sadek Research Ltd. 1992) also concludes that triggers to membership are rational, economic and tangible but goes further suggesting members will only retain membership if benefits persist and members’ emotional and psychological needs are fulfilled. This could be through: an attachment to a particular venue, its ambience and facilities; status attached to belonging to a prestigious organization; social interaction and friendship; a wish to attain and develop artistic knowledge and awareness; need for activity, for attainment and educational development; and economic benefits such as free admission. This suggests that whilst the actual trigger to membership might be pragmatic unless individuals are engaged with the programme or organization it is unlikely they will act on this. Unfortunately the study by Burns Sadek Research Ltd. (1992) does not explicitly discuss

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participants’ latent motives but the findings suggest members have aesthetic, status, belonging, social and learning motives. These motives also emerge amongst members and subscribers at the Southbank Centre (Slater and Armstrong n.d.) and self-identification and status motives are revealed in the visual arts in the UK (Slater and Armstrong 2010) and USA (Glynn et al. 1996). A small number of members at the Southbank Centre also have altruistic motives (Slater and Armstrong n.d.), something seen at heritage sites (Lansley 1996). Ideological motives have been identified amongst heritage members but this has not been explored in the performing arts although it is feasible, with members wanting to support art for “art’s sake”. Thus, we are beginning to understand the motives that trigger membership; however, we still do not entirely understand the relationship between motives for attending the performing arts and the motivation for then subscribing.

Constraints to purchasing membership The flip side of the coin is why do some individuals choose not to subscribe? At the Southbank Centre four constraints to membership were identified: (1) structural constraints where nonmembers see the membership as poor value for money and the programme limited; (2) attitudinal constraints where membership is perceived as elitist and gentrified; (3) lack of awareness of membership with confusing and unclear marketing communications; and (4) emotional and aesthetic constraints. Members do not connect with the venue or its brand identity but they come to the venue to consume performances. The data in this and other studies suggest that non-members may consume the arts regularly but uphold at least one of these constraints to purchasing membership to a greater or lesser extent (Armstrong and Slater 2011). At a French cultural and performing arts centre Petr (2007) also finds that single ticket buyers do not purchase membership because of structural reasons: 79 per cent of the sample said they would not attend the minimum number of shows required to make a return on their subscription fee, 18 per cent that the subscription formulae had constraints and 3.5 per cent were committed to other organizations. When the sample was broken into sub-groups additional structural barriers such as a lack of interest in the programme, time and lack of a companion (amongst adults) were revealed. These barriers have also been identified amongst Americans for attending the arts more generally (Peithman and Offen 1999). Interestingly some of Petr’s (2007) sample was also ideologically opposed to membership. These constraints, disinterest, membership that is not financially viable, inflexible and a lack of time are not universal across all schemes as benefits differ but there are similarities across studies with additional pragmatic reasons including: dissatisfaction with the facility, location (or rather drive time), seating priority, demand for seats and renown of performers (Currim et al. 1981; Johnson and Garbarino 2001; Scheff 1999). There are also differences within the membership base. Although Scheff (1999) suggests that arts attenders are generally not price-sensitive except at the top end, Currim et al. (1981) find that it is subscribers with higher incomes who are less sensitive to price increases and influenced by discounts. In her study of an American symphony orchestra Kolb (2001) suggests that single ticket buyers exhibiting the same behaviour as subscribers differ in that they also enjoy jazz, rock and pop music and they have more social motives. In contrast, Semenik and Young (1980) find subscribers in opera companies are more likely than non-subscribers to consume other art forms. Membership is also affected by the external environment such as the economic environment, competition between arts organizations and the attractiveness of individual subscription packages.

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Behaviour of members and subscribers Drawing on “partnering theory”, Johnson and Garbarino (2001) find that “consistent subscribers”, also coined “high relational” customers, are more familiar with the arts organization and therefore more trusting and committed resulting in positive intentions of supporting and donating. Because they are also more trusting, they accept familiar performers and are more accepting of a diverse programme. Greater trust and commitment is therefore self-perpetuating and results in a longer relationship. Ngobo (2005) draws a similar conclusion, suggesting the most “relational” migrate to membership as a result of positive experiences, individual and relational characteristics; they are the most motivated and this he suggests is linked to age, location and frequency of interactions. This is supported by a study of members of an American art gallery where Bhattacharya et al. (1995) find members who identify with the organization feel more involved and attend more frequently. Studies have also set out to explore if subscribers and non-subscribers have similar characteristics. Garber et al. (2000) finds a group of single ticket buyers that are frequent attenders at a symphony orchestra who are musically and culturally driven and behave in the same way as subscribers.They are deliberate and definite in their planning, respond to direct mail and purchase tickets for the whole season in advance. In contrast, Semenik and Young (1979 and 1980 in Thomas and Cutler 1993) find that subscribers perceive themselves as opera fans and respond to direct mail whilst non-subscribers rely on word-of-mouth recommendation and are prompted to visit by stars. Another explanation as to why some people join and others do not include personal preference for joining schemes (Ryans and Weinberg 1978). Subscribers also seem to have higher incomes, be less price-sensitive and more educated (Garber et al. 2000; Ryans and Weinberg 1978; Scheff 1999; Semenik and Young 1979 in Thomas and Cutler 1993) than single ticket buyers although the latter are often loyal, having attended for many years. Ryans and Weinberg’s (1978) findings also indiacte that “continual” subscribers may have lived in the area for longer.

Lapsing Lapsing, or “churn” as it is commonly known within membership is a perpetual issue for practitioners as the cost of retaining existing members is less than recruiting new members. It may be temporary or permanent as some individuals migrate up and down according to their circumstances (Ngobo 2005). The literature and anecdotal evidence suggests that some of these lapsers will continue to engage as single ticket buyers after lapsing. Scheff, (1999) finds 25 per cent, 38 per cent and 78 per cent of current single ticket buyers respectively at a theatre, symphony and ballet were former subscribers and Semenik and Young (1980) that subscription behaviour is positively correlated with former subscription behaviour. Lapsed subscribers choose to lapse for similar reasons as single ticket buyers choose not to become a member: they prefer to select their own programme, not a series put together by the arts organization; they are no longer engaged with the programme; lack of time which makes it hard to schedule in advance; and ticket prices so that subscription is no longer attractive to them ( Johnson and Garbarino 2001; Pope et al. 2000; Scheff 1999). Ngobo (2005) suggests that downward migration is explained by socio-demographics and relationship-specific characteristics, for example white males are not dissatisfied with the theatre but lack time and are not as motivated. Interestingly he also finds that intention to lapse increases with duration of membership. Lifecycle and structural factors also trigger lapsing. Drawing on my own unpublished work it appears that families with children often have less time to participate, less disposable income and higher costs associated with going to a performance which 237

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create barriers to attending. Younger retirees travel and uncertainty as to whether they will be able to attend a performance means they do not book in advance making membership less attractive. As people age they can often become less involved in the arts due to reduced mobility, giving up night-time driving, caring responsibilities, less disposable income due to expenditure associated with respite care, they stop living independently, or it may simply be the benefits of attending a performance outweigh the personal effort of doing so, especially if public transport is involved. Some members may be ill and are unsure if they will recover so lapse temporarily whereas others lapse permanently when they move house or switch job. We do not want to oversimplify lapsing here. For some members moving away will be the only trigger whilst for others it is often a stepped process triggered by a series of events, many of which an organization has no control over. In contrast there is also a group of members that will retain membership as a means of supporting the organization even if they are no longer able to utilize the benefits. Although not explored in performing arts organizations, gift membership and down-grading is a predictor of lapsing in art galleries whilst donating, professional involvement and taking part in an interest group are associated with the longest serving members who are least likely to lapse (Bhattacharya et al. 1995). As this review of the literature highlights, membership and subscription are complex. Many of the studies in the extant literature lack theoretical frameworks and have also encountered unexpected findings. We still do not truly understand subscribers; they often behave in similar ways to single ticket buyers but one group purchases subscription or membership and the other group does not. There are also gaps, for example how does membership drive sales and how and when in their membership journey do members and subscribers donate and/or volunteer?

The wider context: issues membership managers are facing In the UK the arts landscape has altered during the last two decades due to the lottery which has resulted in millions of pounds being invested into capital arts projects whilst at the same time revenue funding for the arts has declined in real terms. This squeeze on the arts has been compounded by one of the worst recessions many countries have seen resulting in high unemployment, particularly amongst young people, and pay freezes. At the same time many companies are reducing their expenditure on corporate hospitality, sponsorship and other non-essential activities. Third, trusts and foundations, traditional supporters of the arts, are generating less income from their investments. One would have expected this to have put pressure on membership teams in the arts but it appears that despite an initial, immediate response by some members to lapse in 2008, many schemes are thriving. This may be explained by the “staycation”, people treating themselves to nights out rather than going on long holidays, the value for money that some membership schemes offer or membership managers becoming more efficient at retaining their members. Arts membership managers are driven by targets including: overall number of members, retention rates, the share of members signed up to direct debit and membership sales. In the UK they are often consumed by day-to-day challenges such as “Gift Aid”, ensuring they have not fallen foul of the British tax legislation, achieving these targets and their overall benefits package. Less attention is given to drivers and motives for membership, partly because most do not have the staff, skills or budget to undertake such research. Reducing churn is a major part of this daily activity. Whilst arts membership teams cannot control the programme they can minimize churn by getting members to sign up to “direct debit”. A benchmark for many membership teams is 90 per cent using incentives such as

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12 months for the price of nine or a discounted annual fee. Inertia then takes over as members forget to ask their bank to cancel the regular payment when the renewal arrives. The low level of “churn” in many schemes is also due to the effectiveness of the renewal process. For members paying by cash or cheque, a four-stage process of a renewal letter, followed up by three reminders appears to work. Some organizations are starting to put in a fifth step, an email pre-empting the first letter and larger organizations are beginning to experiment with online renewals.The process is more challenging where organizations have a large share of overseas members, cash payers or when members don’t inform the organization they have cancelled their direct debit. Contacting lapsed members by telephone is time-consuming but can reactivate a proportion of members as conversations with lapsed members reveal attitudinal loyalty even if their behaviour suggests a lack of engagement. A group will be disengaged with the programme but many members will not have realized they have lapsed; they will not have received their reminder after moving house or the direct debit will have been cancelled when they switch bank accounts. A third group will be lapsing reluctantly due to financial constraints. They are often cash poor but asset rich and interested in demonstrating their support through a legacy pledge. As the membership base grows making contact with lapsed members becomes daunting but time spent with these previously loyal members may be a good investment of resources in both the short and long term before rushing out to find more members to replace them. Not explored in the literature, but a practical issue for membership managers is technology. Performing arts organizations have an advantage over galleries because they have box office data which should track members’ booking behaviour.Yet, in many organizations membership managers find it a challenge to quantify the financial value of membership; the additional spend, beyond the membership fee in ticket sales, bars, shops and cafés. Membership cards tracking membership behaviour are starting to be used, for example on entry to temporary exhibitions and when purchases are made in shops or cafés as the card validates the members’ discount. However, integrating different databases including tracking donations is not always straightforward. If membership managers are to argue why membership matters in the future the measurement of members’ consumption across the organization needs to be improved.The other aspect of technology is social networking. Discussions by practitioners at MMF meetings suggest there is institutional pressure to engage with Facebook, Twitter and other social networking tools but nobody is quite sure as to what the benefits are for the organization or their members. One gallery has used social media to manage visitors by encouraging this audience constituent to visit during quiet times and discouraging them when the galleries are very busy. However, it is questionable as to how this benefits membership unless you use social media to encourage people to become a member to skip queues (if this is a benefit). Other uses might be to promote members’ events but how do you segment members from non-members on Twitter? Other practical challenges for membership managers are members’ spaces and events. Members’ rooms and bars have become destinations in their own right. They are often used by parents for social gatherings and as “pop-up-offices” for the self-employed during the day especially where free wi-fi is offered. What type of events, if any do, members expect? What will they pay for these events? What are their motivations for doing so? The academic literature on subscription in performing arts organizations has not explored this although a study of members of an American art gallery finds that there is a small group who attend events for prestige (Glynn et al. 1996). In practice many performing arts organizations are offering a traditional events programme linked to the artistic programme such as Director’s talks, seats at dress rehearsals and book readings but anecdotal

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evidence from practitioners suggests that only a small group of members attend such events. Nobody appears to know why the majority of members do not engage but a few performing arts organizations are experimenting with different types of events across the day and evening, for example wine tastings and sushi workshops. This approach to members’ events is different, creating value for a group of members that are interested in a night out and who tend to be a younger demographic. Advice from MMF members is that you have to be brave if you are going to implement a new strategy. An event may not immediately take off as it takes time to build up an audience. A final challenge facing some arts organizations is life membership. Most of these schemes were under-priced in the first place, the membership fee disappeared a long time ago in mailings, magazines and servicing other aspects of the membership, yet expectations of life members is often high. Communicating this to members who see their membership as “great value” is a big “ask” and as there is a “contract” between the arts organization and member, terminating it can be very tricky. However, most arts organizations for practical reasons need to “bite the bullet” and stop such schemes on financial grounds.

What is the future? Over 30 years ago Ryans and Weinberg (1978) posited a series of practical implications for membership managers including: focusing membership literature on the mission and altruism of membership rather than the tangible benefits, providing more opportunities for members to meet with staff to create a sense of belonging and enhancing the prestige of the focal organization. Other practical suggestions include allowing subscribers to donate unwanted tickets back to the arts organization, thus addressing one of the criticisms of subscription, that it is elitist (Pope et al. 2000). As this chapter highlights, altruism, a sense of belonging and prestige are only part of the story. Although many studies have not explicitly acknowledged this the success of arts membership schemes remains dependent on the public’s trust that the performing arts organization will deliver an attractive artistic programme that audiences want to engage with; the benefits trigger membership, but it is the underlying motives that must be there in the first place. To better understand the similarities and differences between members and subscribers across arts organizations more studies need to be undertaken reflecting the diversity of arts organizations and art forms. Behavioural segmentation only describes what members do, not why they do it, thus I would argue that more longitudinal and qualitative research is required to better understand what triggers membership, the underlying motives and subsequent behaviour of members and subscribers. We also need to explore this in relation to their motives for attending the arts in the first place. Membership ultimately drives ticket sales in performing arts organizations, is a conduit for philanthropy and can be a means of recruiting volunteers, so we need to have a better understanding of members’ behaviour. Studies that are most likely to be useful to practitioners will focus on the decision-making process including motives and the value of membership to members. A proportion of single ticket buyers will be lapsed members; this may be temporary, so the question is how do we re-engage with them as a member? Specific questions to explore are: What motivates individuals to join, or not join membership schemes? How do individuals use their membership or subscription, and why? What benefits are members seeking? What is the value of membership to them? Why are some members more altruistic? This is not a simple task. As Glynn et al. (1996) conclude in a museum context membership is complex, multidimensional and not entirely economic based.

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Further reading Armstrong, K. and Slater, A. (2012) “Understanding motivational constraints to membership at the Southbank Centre”, Journal of Customer Behaviour 10, 353–373. (Includes a comprehensive literature review of barriers to membership drawing on constraints theory and the findings of a study of nonmembers at a mixed arts venue in London, UK.) Iliffe, S. (2004) The Good Membership Guide for the Voluntary Sector: A Relationship Marketing Toolkit for Growing Your Support, London: National Council for Voluntary Organisations. (A practical guide on how to set up and manage a membership scheme including mini-cases from the cultural sector.) Slater, A. and Armstrong, K. (2010) “Involvement, Tate and me”, special edition, New Horizons in Arts, Heritage, Nonprofit and Social Marketing, Journal of Marketing Management 26, 727–748. (The most upto-date literature review of members’ motivations and involvement.)

References Armstrong, K. and Slater, A. (2011) “Understanding motivational constraints to membership at the Southbank Centre”, Journal of Customer Behaviour 10, 353–373. Bhattacharya, C.B., Hayagreeva, R. and Glynn, M.A. (1995) “Understanding the bond of identification: an investigation of its correlates among art museum members”, Journal of Marketing 59, 46–57. Boyle, S. (2007) “Single serve or package deal? A study of regular attendees to symphony orchestra concerts”, International Journal of Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Marketing 12, 127–134. Burns Sadek Research Ltd. (1992) Qualitative Research Conducted to Examine the Motivations for Membership of Friends’ Schemes, Arts Council of England: London. Colvin, C. (2006) “Those were the days my Friends”, Inside ENO 6, 12. Currim, I.S., Weinberg, C.B. and Wittink, D.R. (1981) “Design of subscription programs for a performing arts series”, Journal of Consumer Research 8, 67–75. Fraser, I.S. (1998) “Friends’ societies in British theatres: underdeveloped marketing devices?” Academy of Marketing Annual Conference, 608–609. Garber, L., Muscarella, J., Bloom, P. and Spiker, J. (2000) “Consumer-based strategic planning in the nonprofit sector: the empirical assessment of a symphony audience”, Journal of Nonprofit and Public Sector Marketing 8, 55–86. Glynn, M.A., Bhattacharya, C.B. and Rao, H. (1996) “Art museum membership and cultural distinction: relating members’ perceptions of prestige to benefit usage”, Poetics 24, 259–274. Hume, M., Mort, G.S. and Winzar, H. (2007) “Exploring repurchase intention in a performing arts context: who comes? And why do they come back?” International Journal of Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Marketing 12, 135–148. Johnson, M.S. and Garbarino, E. (2001) “Customers of performing arts organizations: are subscribers different from nonsubscribers?” International Journal of Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Marketing 6, 61–77. Jordan, G. and Maloney, W. (1997) The Protest Business? Manchester: Manchester University Press. Kolb, B. (2001) “The decline of the subscriber base: a study of the Philharmonia Orchestra audience”, International Journal of Arts Management 3, 51–59. Lansley, J. (1996) “Membership participation and ideology in voluntary organizations: the case of the National Trust”, Voluntas 7, 221–240. Newman, D. (1977) Subscribe Now! Building Arts Audiences through Dynamic Subscription Promotion, New York: Theatre Communications Group. Ngobo, P.V. (2005) “Drivers of upward and downward migration: an empirical investigation among theatregoers”, International Journal of Research in Marketing 22, 183–201. Peithman, S. and Offen, N. (1999) Guide to Getting and Keeping Your Audience, Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann. Petr, C. (2007) “Why occasional theatregoers in France do not become subscribers”, International Journal of Arts Management 9, 51–61 Pope, D.L., Apple, J. and Keltyka, P. (2000) “Using an integrated ticket donation program to increase subscription sales and reach underserved markets: a strategic marketing approach”, International Journal of Arts Management 3, 39–45. Putnam, D. (2000) Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community, New York: Simon Schuster.

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Alix Slater Raymond, C. (1992) Members Matter: Making the Most of Membership Schemes in the Arts, London: Arts Council of Great Britain. Ryans, A.B. and Weinberg, C.B. (1978) “Consumer dynamics in nonprofit organizations”, Journal of Consumer Research 5, 89–95. Scheff, J. (1999) “Factors influencing subscription and single-ticket purchases at performing arts organizations”, International Journal of Arts Management 1, 16–27. Semenik, R.J. and Young, C.E. (1980) “Correlates of season ticket subscription behaviour”, Advances in Consumer Research 7, 114–118. Slater, A. and Armstrong, K. (n.d.) “Drivers and motives for membership at the Southbank Centre, a mixed arts venue in London, UK”, unpublished paper. Slater, A. and Armstrong, K. (2010) “Involvement, Tate and me”, special edition, New Horizons in Arts, Heritage, Nonprofit and Social Marketing, Journal of Marketing Management 26, 727–748. Thomas, E.G. and Cutler, B.D. (1993) “Marketing the fine and performing arts: what has marketing done for the arts lately?” Journal of Professional Services Marketing 10, 181–199.

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23 ART COLLECTING AS PERSONAL AND PUBLIC PRACTICE IN A DIGITAL AGE Russell Belk

The aura of the original In an earlier technological era Walter Benjamin (1936/1968) famously reflected on the fate of the work of art in an era of mechanical reproduction. In the essay he framed the threat that he saw film, photography, and print as presenting to the magical aura of the artist and the corresponding diminished experience of the audience when unlimited copies distance us from the original and cheapen it in the same way that an over-abundance of money cheapens its value and prompts inflation of the objects it buys. But if Benjamin was worried that we would stop revering original art because of abundant copies, these fears seem groundless. Film and the later invention of television have not killed stage plays which remain a popular form of entertainment. Likewise blockbuster art museum shows and the lines to see originals like the Mona Lisa at the Louvre offer compelling evidence that print reproductions of paintings have not lessened our attraction to the original. André Malraux’s (1967) forecast 45 years ago that reproductions of art works would replace the need to go to museums has also not materialized and the number of world art museums grows daily. When the Boston Museum of Fine Arts opened in 1870, it featured many reproductions of paintings, sculptures, and architectural decorations (DiMaggio 1982; Harris 1962; Levine 1988). However, gradually the board of directors of the MFA began to remove the reproductions as the museum’s collection of originals grew. Although in this case it appears that the preference for “authentic” works of art was imposed rather than emerging from patron preferences, it is clear that our art institutions help reinforce the ideas that only the original contains the aura of the artist, deserves enshrinement within the sacred grove of the museum, and is capable of inspiring awe and reverence. It thus appears that Benjamin (1936/1968) was right about the power of the authentic work of art, even if he may have been wrong about the cheapening power of reproduction. But perhaps he was right on the second point as well.There does seem to be something about reproductions that can deflate the value of a work of art. Prints are typically numbered and ceteris paribus a print that is 1/148 is more valuable than one that is 1111/1480. The artist’s signature also adds value to the print as does a lower numbered print – as if each successive copy is of lower quality like the copies of copies produced by a copying machine. A photographic print that has been made by the photographer is more esteemed than a print made by a third party. And a first 243

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edition of a book, especially if signed by the author, is considered more valuable than an unsigned later edition. In each case, it seems that proximity to the artist is believed to capture more of his or her aura than more distant encounters. There is also a question of rarity. Where there are fewer copies of a work of art, economic supply and demand suggest that it will have a higher monetary value. There is also a distinction between handcrafted high art and mass produced popular culture. Still, Andy Warhol’s pop art flaunted its mass production in a studio called “the Factory” and he derived themes from advertising, popular brands, popular culture, mass media, and popular tastes. He made more copies of his more popular prints, such that today his more valuable pieces also exist in greater numbers. In his appropriation of mass produced brands, popular celebrities, and news photographs, Warhol showed that aura derives not only from that which is in some sense sublime, but also from that which is popularly viewed as a bit ridiculous. Stated differently, Warhol showed that in a consumer culture, that which we hold sacred is that which advertising has endowed with a special, albeit mass produced, aura. This appropriation of consumer culture is also evident in the work of more recent Western artists like Jeff Koons, Damien Hirst, and Andreas Gursky (see Grunenberg and Hollein 2002; Mamiya 1992; Ramos 1994) as well as Chinese artists like Wang Guangyi, the Luo brothers, and Bi Yan (see Cheng 2008; Ilan et al. 2010; Nuridsany 2004). Brands like Apple, Nike, and Mini Cooper have numinous power today for a large part of the world. Brands like Coca-Cola, Mercedes, and BMW have started their own museums and Niketowns are as much museums devoted to sports celebrities as they are retail stores. Other brands like Ferragamo shoes have had exhibitions in the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, while Louis Vuitton hires artists like Takashi Murakami and holds special exhibitions in museums like the Hong Kong Art Museum. Ferragamo subsequently displayed the V&A exhibition posters in its retail shops, while Louis Vuitton managed to wrap the entire Hong Kong Art Museum exterior in its logo for the length of the 2009 show. Museums have begun to more broadly enshrine popular brands as suggested by another V&A show entitled “Brand New” (Pavitt 2000). As these developments as well as postmodernism in general suggest, the line between high art and popular culture is becoming blurred as popular culture ascends to something close to sacred status (Belk et al. 1989; Rinallo et al. 2013; Sheffield 2006). But it gets still more complex. Since Benjamin’s time there has been a digital revolution. For at least some forms of art like music, film, and manuscripts, the idea of an original evaporates as every copy is a perfect copy indistinguishable from the original. And with 3D printing even the plastic arts may also become perfectly replicable. In what follows I consider what becomes of art, art collecting, galleries, museums, and other actants in the art world in an age of digital reproduction.

Enter: the digital age A second, somewhat less famous, essay by Walter Benjamin (1930/1968) is “Unpacking My Library: A Talk About Book Collecting.” In this essay Benjamin fondly recalls the hunt and acquisition of many of his treasured books which not only conjure up these collecting experiences, but also the books’ provenance and the other owners through whose hands they found their way into his collection. His library of books was a library of memories. “It is as if under certain conditions, the experience of possession could be transformed into the possession of experience” (Abbas 1988: 230). Fast forward 70 years and we find the parallel musings of former music critic Julian Dibbell (2000): I AM UNPACKING my CD collection. Yes I am. Not the way Benjamin famously unpacked his book collection, seven decades ago, amid “the disorder of crates that have

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been wrenched open, the air saturated with the dust of wood, the floor covered with torn paper.” Not hardly. I’m unpacking my music the way we generally unpack information these days: by setting it free entirely from dust and paper and crates of any kind. By making it immaterial … I have been taking the gems of my collection down off the shelves, compressing their contents into MP3 files, and transferring them to the unseen surface of a thirteen-gigabyte hard disk. Given the sensual, multisensory, and mnemonic pleasures that Benjamin took in reflecting on his book collection, we might expect that Dibbell’s experience is an impoverished one; that the dematerialized non-objects in his newly digitized collection fail to provide any of these pleasures. Indeed this is what several others have observed (e.g. McCourt 2005; Giles et al. 2007), at least for highly involved music collectors who still prefer vinyl or CDs (Styvén 2010).Yet Dibbell (2000) finds his own compelling pleasures in his newly digitized music collection. While admitting that the “disembodied” computerized versions lack the vestigial charisma of the originals with their worn cases, album art, and liner notes, he sees the same pleasure as Benjamin in the transformation of objects into possessions. His was a passion reignited by the “pirate’s treasure” of hundreds of MP3 files. Moreover, moving these songs from their plastic prisons to the computer felt like “an act of redemption” to him. “Organizing them suddenly became more than easy; it was a game performed with the click of the mouse.” Even intimacy was gained in the transformative process: “Stripped of its physical shell, my music collection lies naked before me, more available to my touch, in some ways, than it was when I could actually touch it.” And perhaps most importantly, the digitization of his music collection and its presence online, turned the collection into something that he now shares with others: “The traditional eros of collecting has been perverted, connecting the collector not just to objects but, of all things, to other people.” That is, the private act of music collecting has become a public act of sharing music and musical interests with others. For as McCourt (2005) observed, “In cyberspace, collecting becomes based not only on the linkage of people to objects, but the linkage of individuals to others” (p. 252; see also Sklar 2008). Benjamin (1930/1968) recognized that public collections were the wave of the future. However, while he could not envision a way to combine the intimate knowledge of the collector and the shared knowledge of the collective, Dibbell (2000) finds that the two are perfectly reconciled through online digital sharing and the metadata of online comments left by others that enrich the experience of listening to the music for all those who participate. Or, as McCourt (2005) has it, “As Goods lose their physicality, they are imbued with greater and greater amounts of constructed value” (p. 252). And this value is co-constructed with other consumers who happily volunteer their “free labor” to such projects (Terranova 2000; Zwick et al. 2008). This free labor may be as innocent appearing as adding comments or ratings on a blog, website, online retail site, or digital forum (Zwick et al. 2008), but in a more cynical take it may amount to becoming “NetSlaves” in “24-7 electronic sweatshops” (Terranova 2000). But this volunteer labor need not serve corporate interests and may in fact be a labor of love. There is a different collaborative collecting ethos emerging in our present digital age. It is less personal and more public; less based on proprietary exclusive ownership and more on sharing; and less based on individually acquired and owned objects and more on collectively acquired non-objects with distributed access (Belk 2001, forthcoming; Paul 2008). We have returned to the more democratic ethos that the Boston Museum of Fine Arts once exemplified and later repudiated in favor of a more elitist view of what constitutes art. These principles are illustrated and discussed in a multimedia thesis by Jamie Gray (2006). Modifying the collecting stages

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suggested by Baudrillard (2006), Gray suggests that collecting in an Internet age is composed of (1) discovery, (2) accumulation, (3) categorization, and (4) sharing and collaborating within online communities. The first three of these stages are normally private experiences and the last stage is necessarily shared with a virtual community. However, when the entire collecting project is re-imagined as collaborative, each stage potentially becomes joint and interactive. In terms of Dibbell’s (2000) music collecting, it is easy to envision fellow enthusiasts within a genre of music posting their discoveries and playlists online. Similarly, the joint accumulation of the community becomes a much larger and more complete collection than that which an individual acting alone would be able to assemble. Because copies of music are perfect copies and sharing a file with a friend does not lessen the quality of the personal copy, this music can be regarded as a non-rivalrous good (Lehdonvirta 2009). Suddenly the world is not a zero-sum game. My ownership in no way diminishes your possibility of ownership. The supply is unlimited. Moreover, the acts of sharing music and information regarding the music (on forums, blogs, and with comments and ratings on commercial sites like Amazon and iTunes) create feelings of community and group identity (Brown and Sellen 2006; O’Hara and Brown 2006). Just as Wikipedia and open source software like Linux are collaborative accomplishments of volunteers who could never have achieved these results by themselves, so too are online collaborators able to create collections that rival or exceed those of the most well endowed institutions. The stage of categorization is also one that takes on a unique nature with online “collaborative collecting.” Rather than one person attempting to classify an object, here too we find collaboration. Consider a photo put up on an online photo sharing site like Flickr or Photobucket. Anyone else who sees the photo can add tags suggesting the categories they would assign to the photo (Gray 2006; Davies 2007; van Dijck 2007, 2008). The result is a bottom-up “folksonomy” rather than top-down taxonomy. Even the US Library of Congress has put some of its photos up online for such tagging, knowing that the “wisdom of the crowd” (Surowiecki 2005) is capable of knowing more than any single expert (Weinberger 2007). Furthermore, when someone tags or comments on a photo of us on a social media site like Facebook, the resulting metadata have been described adding “digital patina” or provenance that enhances the value of these digital artifacts (Davies 2007; Odom et al. 2012). But the idea of digital patina can be extended to photos and videos of any object or event when its meaning is expanded by the knowledge and comments of online participants in asynchronous discussions. The idea of a folksonomy is a revolutionary one. It suggests that rather than the old knowledge management practice of filtering on the way in (as with putting key information on an old fashioned library catalogue card), the idea is to filter on the way out (as people seek to sort through, access, and add to what is freely available online). Although Brown and Sellen (2006) and Styvén (2010) suggest that the non-rivalrous nature of perfect digital copies makes them less collectible, this conclusion is based on an individual rivalrous definition of collecting. From the point of view of collaborative collecting, just the opposite is true. We might even say that with digital collectibles, it is a case of the objects attracting and acquiring collectors rather than individual collectors acquiring and assembling objects (Gray 2006). The replicability of those art collectibles that can be perfectly duplicated challenges, if not destroys, the idea of authenticity and aura (Benjamin 1936/1968). It also makes the physical object largely irrelevant and blurs the distinction between private and public ownership (Gray 2006). We can see a parallel phenomenon in the transformation of the once private diary into the public blog (e.g. Cohen 2005; Kitzmann 2003; Rettberg 1988; Serfaty 2004). The Internet is changing much, including increasing our willingness to share (Belk 2010; Botsman and Rogers 2010; Gansky 2010; Leadbeater 2008) and our embrace of the copy rather than the original (Boon 2010; Shenkar 2010).

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There are other ways in which the digitization brought about by the Internet has changed collecting behavior, the collectibles market, and the means by which museums, galleries, and other institutions make their collections and related materials available. I consider these changes in the following section.

Collecting, collections, and institutions in a digital age Traditionally in art collecting there is information asymmetry between collectors, artists, and dealers such that both collectors and artists have relied heavily on dealers for critical information (Becker 2008; Plattner 1996). Collectors and artists also traditionally visited galleries and museums, attended auctions, and perused specialized art magazines for further information. Smaller dealers and dealers located outside the hubs of the major urban art centers of the world have been at a disadvantage as have less prominent or poorly geographically located artists. But this has begun to change thanks to the information available on the Internet, resulting, among other things, in a partial disintermediation in which the role of dealers as trusted middle persons between artists and collectors is becoming less critical (Bloom 2006; Kessler 2008; Smith 2008), partly through sites like Etsy, partly through online auctions like eBay, and partly through more upscale sites like Artnet. In the words of William Gibson (2006), the creator of “cyberspace,” a one-time “picker” for antique dealers, and a current collector of fine watches, the Internet in general and eBay in particular are seen to be causing a “democratization of connoisseurship.” Another watch collector elaborates: Until I discovered the online marketplace, my ability to collect was severely limited to chance encounters. I couldn’t really develop a focused collection in terms of either contents or boundaries because my options for finding watches were so few … there were no extra dollars for trips to exotic places to search for the desired collectibles, watches or any other kind. I couldn’t hire agents to search out what I coveted. I was limited by the circumstances of my life to remain a dilettante collector. (Mills 2008: 33–34) Discovering eBay was a transformative experience for Mills, opening up his vistas as a collector and providing access not only to collectible watches, but also information, expertise, and fellow collectors. With art galleries and auction houses taking a 50 percent cut of sales, such disintermediation can make a big difference to buyers. Sothebys.com formed an association with eBay from May 2000 until February 2003 when lawsuits and overspending on customer relations at its online divisions forced it to terminate the relationship. However, the partnership demonstrated the viability of selling fine art online (Bloom 2006). Since then a number of other sites have emerged to attempt to sell high end art online. Besides eBay, relatively lower end sites also include Saatchi and 1stdibs where sales are generally under US$1,000. Christie’s LIVE and Sotheby’s BIDnow allow online bidding at the auction houses’ on-site auctions (Thompson forthcoming). Gagosian Gallery sells higher end pieces shown online, but their brand name and famous artists help in this case. VIP’s online “art fair” started in 2011 and has made some high end sales, helped by offerings from famous artists including Jackson Pollock, Takashi Murakami, Damien Hirst, Lucien Freud, Francis Bacon, and Jean-Michel Basquiat (Thompson forthcoming). Art.sy is another site targeting the same high end technologically oriented market as VIP.

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But the jury is still out on whether these sites will make big inroads into the market of brick and mortar auction houses and the five first tier live art fairs that lavishly pamper their clients with expensive banquets and other perks, not to mention the opportunity for first hand inspection of art works on offer. But intermediaries themselves also gained from the Internet. Bloom explains the impact of Internet art-related sites on small scale dealers: Websites such as Artnet.com have become important mechanisms internationally for determining prices in a more detailed and direct way, and they enable individuals located outside of metropolitan centers with the best public art libraries to access the same information as experts working for major auction houses or museums. These sites, combined with the eBay search engine of completed auction listings and search engines such as Google, have made the internet essential for researching the history of fine art and antiques. (Bloom 2006: 235) Furthermore, the anonymity or pseudonymity of bidding online for art means that the playing field is more even for art buying as well. Or, as a New Yorker cartoon put it, “On the Internet, no one knows you’re a dog” (Peter Steiner 1993). Another sense in which the Internet has affected collections is the trend for museums, often aided by grants from organizations such as the Alfred P. Sloan foundation and the Terra Foundation, as well as prominent independent organizations like the Google Art Project, to digitize their collections and make them available online (Flemming 2012; Art Gallery of the Future 2011). Besides further democratizing access to collections there are several other benefits from such digitization as well as some limitations and special considerations. Benefits potentially include instant access to all museum objects without hunting through drawers, wearing white gloves, or seeking access to the bulk of the institutions’ collections, most of which are housed in their basements and some of which may be out on loan at any given time. Side by side comparisons are possible and with the latest digitization techniques color rendition is far more faithful than prints or slides. Just as Dibbell (2000) found he could instantly reorder his music collection, digitized museum collection objects can easily be sorted by artist, nation, style, content, period, and any other metadata. Not only can images of the objects themselves be accessed, but curators’ comments, videos, related museum publications, catalogues and pamphlets, as well as documentation, provenance, and other details can also be readily accessed. The distinction between displaying a piece as an object of art versus as a historic or anthropological artifact can also disappear online. Moreover, by opening the online digital material to user comments and questions, a digital patina can be built up, much like tagging online photographs. Some of this can be facilitated by connecting the digital collection to social media like Facebook and Twitter. In this sense the museum presentation shifts from object-centered to experience-centered and the presentation becomes more democratic, collaborative, and co-created by and with the public. Without the geographic restrictions of visiting the physical museum, the collection becomes far more public and can reach audiences that would never visit the museum building in person. Although public art has long existed with art displayed in public spaces rather than designated art contexts, digital public art allows greater agency to the public to also openly discuss, distribute, and even collaborate in producing this art (Paul 2008). Such sharing can also become a way of virtually repatriating museum objects of an anthropological or historical nature to the peoples

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from whom they were obtained. Hogsden and Poulter (2012) illustrate this in the British Museum’s online interactive presentation of an Australian bark shield obtained by Captain Cook at Botany Bay in 1770. A remote interactive audience of Australians who were previously unaware of the artifact’s existence performed an interpretive dance and discussion in response once the shield was “released from the glass case” where it was physically stored. Like the music released from the plastic prison of their CD cases in Julian Dibbell’s collection, the digitized shield became an object of interactive commentary rather than the more passive, one-sided, and distanced view typical of museum offerings of “cannibal tours and glass boxes” (Ames 1992). Liebetrau (2010) suggests that the following categories of objects are candidates for a digital collection: text, photographs (including those taken of paintings and three-dimensional objects), graphics, data sets (e.g. since 2010 the US Library of Congress has archived all Twitter messages), harvested websites, CAD/CAM creations, geo-spatial GIS, digital audio, music scores, digital moving images and video, animations, and games. Keeping in mind the principle of filtering on the way out rather than on the way in, it seems better to err on the side of digitizing too much rather than too little. Still, no institutional collection, much less a private collection, can digitally archive everything of potential relevance. The National Information Standards Organization (NISO 2007) suggests that a good digital collection has an explicit theme and is continually curated rather than being regarded as a one-time activity. It also needs to be described adequately so that those interested are able to find the most useful materials. The digital collection also needs to be sustainable over time and able to adapt to changing technologies. We should also recognize that online photo and video sharing sites like Flickr, YouTube, and Vimeo are de facto digital archives that house a treasure trove of potentially relevant material (Belk 2011).YouTube alone has over 150 million videos, and is beginning to dominate and overpower stand-alone archives of film material. Furthermore, with the mashups, digital sampling, and remixes found on YouTube and elsewhere, we find good examples of truly interactive and participative public art. Likewise the parodies that are common on YouTube offer another form of public dialogue with the art that they parody. Here we truly have a singularization (Appadurai 1986) of art as well as an undermining of the authority of the original (Paul 2008). As Robinson and Halle conclude: The interactive quality of digital formats has a unique characteristic that makes it different from other media advances. With digitization, not only are consumers able to access many genres of art easily and quickly through the medium of the Internet, they are also able to both produce their own works and take existing works and edit them using digital media tools … not only is art consumed and understood through a new medium, it is then translated back online by users, a process that essentially digitizes the experience from start to finish in a process that is much more accessible than anything in the offline world. (Robinson and Halle 2002: 382) At the same time, opening collections to more public access has its limitations and sometimes raises new issues. Hogsden and Poulter (2012) recount how the Portland Museum of Art opened its collection of Northwest Coast objects to native Tlingit elders. The museum curators were ready with notebooks in hand to receive a deeper interpretation of the virtually repatriated objects. But instead the elders reacted to the objects as stimuli for telling stories and singing songs. This is not so much a problem as it is a conflict in perspectives. More problematic are cases of Maori and Aboriginal Australian art that are sacred and secret, depending on the gender,

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clan, and degree of initiation of the viewer. In this case opening the display of these objects to anyone on the Internet could be a grave violation of indigenous taboos. This is something that can be worked out by restricting or forbidding physical museum displays, but is more difficult with open Internet access to digitized representations (Belk and Groves 1999). There are also things that digitized copies cannot do nearly as well as the original objects. Newell (2012) calls these copied objects “digital surrogates” and suggests that they are in many ways inferior to the real thing. They lack the aura that Benjamin rightly attributed to original objects. They fail to achieve the same sense of wonder on the part of the audience. They make it difficult to gain an appreciation of three-dimensional objects like sculptures and they lack the authority of the original. At the same time some objects like curators’ comments, videos of the creation of the object, and various supplemental material are “born digital” and have not undergone a process of digitalization (Dunn 2008). Of course digital art is also born digital and has the same fidelity when it is put online. That is, these materials originate solely within the digital realm. And with the increasingly ubiquitous presence of smart phones and tablet computers, the patrons of the physical museum can access such born digital content at will as they proceed through the museum as well as when they are far removed from the museum itself. It is noteworthy that one of the early movers in digitizing its collections is the Boston Museum of Fine Arts (Price 2012) – the very institution cited earlier for moving away from democratized art by relegating its copies to the basement early in its history. Today, the majority of its 450,000 works can be viewed on the web. Now, with the new online catalogue, readers using a personal computer or tablet, such as an iPad, will be able to dig deeper into information about 425 paintings [from a collection of American art] by browsing artwork by chapter, title, and artist; bookmarking favorites; reading essays; and enjoying interviews with curators and conservators. (Price 2012) This may not quite be interactive, but clearly it is a more open approach than the rarefied displays of its collections in the past. With digitization of object collections and even more so with digital art and other born digital materials, the next step appears to be the entirely digital museum with or without a brick and mortar counterpart. Examples are the Digital Art Museum (http://www.dam.org/home), the Museum of Computer Art (http://moca.virtual.museum/), the Museum of Art and Digital Entertainment (http://themade.org/), and the Austin Museum of Digital Art (http://www. amoda.org/). For digital films there are also various juried archives online such as the vimeo site presently titled Films by Consumer Researchers (http://vimeo.com/groups/136972). Since artists and filmmakers could easily put up their own works online, one function of digital museums and film archives is to provide a vetting process that creates the equivalent of a juried exhibition or film festival showing. That is, these institutions serve to screen potential entries for quality, to mount various shows, to help interpret the works they present, and to allow artists and filmmakers to rightfully claim that they have had a (virtual) juried show or showing.

A broader issue: access versus ownership Several recent papers have addressed a related distinction between temporarily accessing versus owning material objects, focusing on art works (Chen 2009), automobiles (Bardhi and Eckhardt 2012), and books and music (Giesler and Humphreys 2007). These studies and analyses are

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themselves embedded in discourses concerning sharing (Belk 2010), paid access (Rifkin 2000), experiential consumption (Pine and Gilmore 1999), and service dominant logic (Vargo and Lusch 2004). Chen’s (2009) study is the most helpful for present purposes because it is an art context and goes to the greatest depth in contrasting the motivations and values of art museum patrons versus art collectors. Based on research with collectors and art museum patrons in Paris and Geneva, Chen (2009) finds that collectors are most likely to identify with their artworks and to seek individual uniqueness through their collections. They become attached to their artworks and harbor a desire to preserve their art and pass it on to heirs. Similar findings have been reported for those who collect music in tangible form (CDs and vinyl) rather than as MP3 files (Giles et al. 2007; Styvén 2010). Chen (2009) finds that besides identifying less with artworks, being less attached, and lacking a desire or ability to pass on art works to heirs, art museum patrons seek to avoid the boredom of being restricted to a narrow range of works and value sharing and enjoying their art experiences with other patrons. Here too we find some similarity to those who consume more ephemeral MP3 music files rather than records or CDs (Giles et al. 2007; McCourt 2005). While it is perhaps a premature or overstated conclusion, Humphreys and Giesler (2007) suggest that we are undergoing a paradigm shift from ownership to access. This is due in no small measure to the Internet which is unprecedented in the range and depth of access it provides (Koppelman and Franks 2008). Although it could be partly wealth related, this is also consistent with the older age of art collectors versus patrons (Chen 2009) and the greater tendency of the younger generation to prefer MP3 music files over more tangible forms of music. Art forms and characteristics themselves sometimes dictate that certain art works cannot be owned and individually possessed. This is the case, for instance, with installation art, performance art, prohibitively expensive art, and expansive serial art presentations. Even though some such art may be digital in character, when it is simultaneously presented on different screens and in multiple media it may be essentially beyond individual ownership. With regard to music and film collecting it is worth remembering that musical and film recordings are themselves relatively new media. Prior to the invention of the phonograph and motion pictures, all music, dance, and stage performances were live, ephemeral, and incapable of tangible recording except as sheet music, orchestral scores, dance choreography notations, and playscripts. So if we are moving toward a less tangible digital form of recording that can be destroyed by computer problems and technological obsolescence, perhaps our lesser attachments and feelings of individual proprietary ownership toward new media recordings is taking us back to a less possessive, more communal, and more spontaneous form of appreciation that has served many prior generations. Cloud computing and storage may merely be the next step in moving us in this direction.

Conclusion One of the other findings from the access versus ownership research is that both art collectors and those who prefer their music collections in more tangible form feel a greater sense of connection to the artist or musician (Chen 2009; Giles et al. 2007; Styvén 2010). This suggests that Benjamin (1936/1968) was right that aura is diminished or lost as copies become ubiquitous (McCourt 2005). Interpreted differently, Chen’s (2009) finding that museum patrons seek to avoid repetition and boredom may suggest that easy access and loss of aura result in an increasing desire for novelty and a lesser appreciation of profound works and nuanced depth of meaning. Perhaps the art museum that makes its collection available online is cheapening the experience

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of art appreciation and lessening the possibility of transcendent experience in art appreciation. Perfection along with perfect replicability may lessen the possibility of singularity that makes the original book, record, painting, or poetry reading unique and different from all attempts to reproduce it (Appadurai 1986). The soiled vinyl album cover and the particular hisses and pops in the recording personalize the listening experience; something that cannot be duplicated in a CD or MP3 file. So if we are being increasingly forced to adopt perfect copies, we may be losing feelings of the authenticity and the aura and authority of the original. But this is a bit too dichotomous. As Benjamin’s (1930/1968) reflections on his book collection reveals, he had also developed a passion for books, which since Gutenberg have been copies. They have tangible forms and bindings that make them relatively more unique than e-books, but they are an incremental step between original manuscripts and perfect copies. And we can go back before Gutenberg to the origin of the book itself. Books prompted a debate between Plato and Socrates regarding the merit of live oratory versus the written word. Socrates, the last of the great orators, accused Plato, the first of the great writers, of using books which lessen knowledge (Manguel 1996). For rather than having to remember and formulate arguments on their feet, those who used books could merely look it up in a book. As a result, Socrates charged that book users would lose knowledge, thinking ability, and wisdom. But notably, without books none of Plato’s and Socrates’ thoughts would be known to us today. Still, the argument has been heard in the contemporary era by people like Carr (2008, 2010) who ask “Is Google making us stupid?” In balance, it seems that digitization is helping the art world more than it may be hurting it. Democratization, greater access, easier search, more sharing, and less information asymmetry are all benefits that seem to outweigh lesser detriments of declining attachment, less investment of personal identity, increased novelty seeking, and threats to the sacred and secret in the case of certain indigenous art. Furthermore, digitization is a genie that cannot be put back in the bottle. With future technologies more access, lower cost, smaller size, and greater storage capacity are virtually certain. I have not touched upon intellectual property issues, but these battles seem likely to be resolved in the future as well. Despite the greater collectability of more tangible art forms, digitization has shifted the emphasis in collecting more than it has reduced overall tendencies toward collecting. Nevertheless, we can again recall Abbas’s comments on Walter Benjamin’s collecting: “It is as if under certain conditions, the experience of possession could be transformed into the possession of experience” (Abbas 1988: 230).This is not something entirely new to digitization, but digitization is no doubt accelerating this transformation. To the extent that the shift from ownership to access reflects a basic paradigm shift, there will be an increasing role for art institutions to facilitate new forms of access in the future. Hopefully the reflections in this chapter will help stimulate thought about how this might best be done and some of the potential consequences.

References Abbas, Ackbar (1988), “Walter Benjamin’s Collector: The Fate of the Modern Experience,” New Literary History, 20 (Autumn), 217–238. Ames, Michael (1992), Cannibal Tours and Glass Boxes: The Anthropology of Museums, Vancouver, BC: University of British Columbia Press. Appadurai, Arjun (1986), “Introduction: Commodities and the Politics of Value,” in Arjun Appadurai, ed., The Social Life of Things, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 3–63. Art Gallery of the Future (2011), “The Art Gallery of the Future, and Why We Must Digitize Art,” http:// reflectionsancontemplations.wordpress.com/2011/02/06/why-art-must-be-digitized/. Bardhi, Fleura and Giana M. Eckhardt (2012), “Access-Based Consumption: The Case of Car Sharing,” Journal of Consumer Research, 39 (4), 881–898.

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Art collecting in a digital age Baudrillard, Jean (2006), The System of Objects, New York:Verso. Becker, Howard S. (2008), Art Worlds, Berkeley: University of California Press. Belk, Russell W. (2001), Collecting in a Consumer Society, London: Routledge. Belk, Russell W. (2010), “Sharing,” Journal of Consumer Research, 37 (1), 715–734. Belk, Russell W. (2011), “Examining Markets, Marketing, Consumers, and Society through Documentary Films,” Journal of Macromarketing, 31 (December), 403–409. Belk, Russell W. (forthcoming), “Ownership and Collecting,” in Randy O. Frost and Gail Steketee, eds., Oxford Handbook of Hoarding and Acquiring, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Belk, Russell W. and Ronald Groves (1999), “Marketing and the Multiple Meanings of Aboriginal Art,” Journal of Macromarketing, 19 ( June), 20–33. Belk, Russell W., Melanie Wallendorf , and John F. Sherry, Jr. (1989), “The Sacred and the Profane in Consumer Behavior: Theodicy on the Odyssey,” Journal of Consumer Research, 15 (1), 1–38. Benjamin, Walter (1930/1968), “Unpacking My Library: A Talk About Book Collecting,” in Hannah Arrendt, ed., Illuminations, Harry Zohn, trans., San Diego, CA: Harcourt, Brace and World, 59–67. Benjamin, Walter (1936/1968), “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,” in Hannah Arrendt, ed., Illuminations, Harry Zohn, trans., San Diego, CA: Harcourt, Brace and World, 219–253. Bloom, Lisa (2006), “The Contradictory Circulation of Fine Art and Antiques on eBay,” in Ken Hillis and Michael Petit, eds., Everyday on eBay: Culture, Collecting, and Desire, New York: Routledge, 231–244. Boon, Marcus (2010), In Praise of Copying, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Botsman, Rachel and Roo Rogers (2010), What’s Mine is Yours: The Rise of Collaborative Consumption, New York: Harper Collins. Brown, Barry and Abigail Sellen (2006), “Sharing and Listening to Music,” in Kenton O’Hara and Barry Brown, eds., Consuming Music Together: Social and Collaborative Aspects of Music Consumption Technologies, Dordrecht: Springer, 37–56. Carr, Nicholas (2008), “Is Google Making Us Stupid?” Atlantic Monthly, 302 (1), July/August, 56–62. Carr, Nicholas (2010), The Shallows: What the Internet is Doing to Our Brains, New York: W. W. Norton. Chen, Yu (2009), “Possession and Access: Consumer Desires and Value Perceptions Regarding Contemporary Art Collection and Exhibit Visits,” Journal of Consumer Research, 35, 925–940. Cheng, Xin Dong (2008), Let’s Consume! Beijing: Xin Dong Cheng Publishing House. Cohen, Kris R. (2005), “What Does the Photoblog Want?” Media, Culture and Society, 27 (6), 883–901. Davies, Julia (2007), “Display, Identity and the Everyday: Self-presentation through Online Image Sharing,” Discourse: Studies in the Cultural Politics of Education, 28 (4), 549–564. Dibbell, Julian (2000), “Unpacking My Record Collection,” FEED online magazine, March, http:// www.juliandibbell.com/texts/feed_records.html. DiMaggio, Paul (1982), “Cultured Entrepreneurship in Nineteenth-Century Boston: The Classification and Framing of American Art,” Media, Culture and Society, 4 (October), 303–322. Dunn, Marilyn A. (2008), “Collecting Materials Born Digital,” in Susan Koppelman and Allison Franks, eds., Collecting and the Internet: Essays on the Pursuit of Old Passions Through New Technologies, Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 23–30. Flemming, Robyn (2012), “Digitizing the Libraries’ Collections: An Introduction,” http://www.metmuseum.org/about-the-museum/now-at-the-met/features/2012/digitizing-the-library-collections. Gansky, Lisa (2010), The Mesh: Why the Future of Business is Sharing, New York: Portfolio Books. Gibson, William (2006), “My Obsession: I Thought I Was Immune to the Net. Then I Got Bitten by eBay,” in Ken Hillis and Michael Petit, eds., Everyday on eBay: Culture, Collecting, and Desire, New York: Routledge, 19–38. Giesler, Markus and Ashlee Humphreys (2007), “Tensions between Access and Ownership in the Media Marketplace,” Advances in Consumer Research, 34, 696–697. Giles, David C., Sephen Pietrzykowski, and Kathryn E. Clark (2007), “The Psychological Meaning of Personal Record Collections and the Impact on Changing Technological Forms,” Journal of Economic Psychology, 28, 429–443. Gray, Jamie E. (2006), “Digital Collecting: Designing Conceptual Tools for Online Collecting Behaviors,” Master’s thesis, Raleigh: Department of Graphic Design, North Carolina State University. Grunenberg, Christoph and Max Hollein, eds. (2002), Shopping: A Century of Art and Consumer Culture, Frankfurt: Hatje Cantz. Harris, Neil (1962), “The Gilded Age Revisited: Boston and the Museum Movement,” American Quarterly, 14 (4), 545–566.

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Hogsden, Carl and Emma K. Poulter (2012), “The Real Other? Museum Objects in Digital Contact Networks,” Journal of Material Culture, 17 (3), 265–286. Humphreys, Ashlee and Markus Giesler (2007), “Access versus Ownership in Consumer Research,” Advances in Consumer Research, 34, 296. Ilan, Lisa, Michael Yun, and Bill DuPriest, eds. (2010), East/West: Visually Speaking, Lafayette, LA: Paul and Lulu Hilliard University Art Museum. Kessler, Jeffrey (2008), “Collecting Eyewear on eBay,” in Susan Koppelman and Allison Franks, eds., Collecting and the Internet: Essays on the Pursuit of Old Passions Through New Technologies, Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 41–46. Kitzmann, Andreas (2003), “That Different Place: Documenting the Self Within Online Environments,” Biography, 26 (1), 48–65. Koppelman, Susan and Allison Franks (2008), “Introduction,” in Susan Koppelman and Allison Franks, eds., Collecting and the Internet: Essays on the Pursuit of Old Passions Through New Technologies, Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 1–7. Leadbeater, Charles (2008), We-Think: Mass Innovation, Not Mass Production, London: Profile. Lehdonvirta, Vili (2009), “Virtual Consumption,” PhD Dissertation, Turku, Finland: Turku School of Economics A-11. Levine, Lawrence W. (1988), Highbrow/Lowbrow: The Emergence of Cultural Hierarchy in America, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Liebetrau, Pat (2010), Managing Digital Collections: A Collaborative Initiative on the South African Framework, Pretoria, South Africa: National Research Foundation. McCourt, Tom (2005), “Collecting Music in the Digital Realm,” Popular Music and Society, 28 (2), 249–252. Malraux, André (1967), Museum Without Walls, Stuart Gilbert and Francis Price, eds., Garden City, NY: Doubleday (original 1965, Le Musée Imaginaire, Paris: Editions Gallimard). Mamiya, Christin J. (1992), Pop Art and Consumer Culture: American Supermarket, Austin: University of Texas Press. Manguel, Alberto (1996), A History of Reading, Toronto: Random House Canada. Mills, Dennis (2008), “Collecting Watches on the Internet,” in Susan Koppelman and Allison Franks, eds., Collecting and the Internet: Essays on the Pursuit of Old Passions Through New Technologies, Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 31–40. Newell, Jenny (2012), “Old Objects, New Media: Historical Collections, Digitization and Affect,” Journal of Material Culture, 17 (3), 287–306. NISO (National Information Standards Organization) (2007), A Framework of Guidance for Building Good Digital Collections, Baltimore, MD: NISO. Nuridsany, Michel (2004), China Art Now, Paris: Éditions Flammarion. Odom, William, Abigail Sellen, Richard Harper, and Eno Thereska (2012), “Lost in Translation: Understanding the Possession of Digital Things in the Cloud,” CHI’12, Austin, TX, http://citeseerx. ist.psu.edu/viewdoc/summary?doi=10.1.1.227.7479. O’Hara, Kenton and Barry Brown (2006), “Consuming Music Together: Introduction and Overview,” in Kenton O’Hara and Barry Brown, eds., Consuming Music Together: Social and Collaborative Aspects of Music Consumption Technologies, Dordrecht: Springer, 3–17. Paul, Christiane (2008), “Digital Art/Public Art: Governance and Agency in the Networked Commons,” in Christa Sommerer, Lakhmi Jain, and Laurent Mignoreau, eds., The Art and Science of Interface and Interaction Design, Berlin: Springer-Verlag, 163–185. Pavitt, Jane, ed. (2000), Brand New, London:Victoria and Albert Museum. Pine, B. Joseph II and James H. Gilmore (1999), The Experience Economy: Work is Theatre and Every Business is a Stage, Boston, MA: Harvard Business Press. Plattner, Stuart (1996), High Art Down Home: An Economic Ethnography of a Local Art Market, Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Price, Gary (2012), “Recently Released: Museum of Fine Arts, Boston Launches its First Online Catalogue, Paintings of the Americas,” Press release, March 22. Ramos, Mel (1994), Mel Ramos: Pop Art Images, Köln: Benedikt Taschen. Rettberg, Jill (1988), Blogging, Cambridge: Polity. Rifkin, Jeremy (2000), The Age of Access: The New Culture of Hypercapitalism Where All of Life is a Paid-for Experience, New York: Tharcher/Putnam.

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Art collecting in a digital age Rinallo, Diego, Linda Scott, and Pauline MacLaren, eds. (2013), Consumption and Spirituality, London: Routledge. Robinson, Laura and David Halle (2002), “Digitization, the Internet, and the Arts: eBay, Napster, SAG, and e-Books,” Qualitative Sociology, 25 (3), 359–383. Serfaty,Viviane (2004), The Mirror and the Veil: An Overview of American Online Diaries and Blogs, Amsterdam: Rodopi. Sheffield, Tricia (2006), The Religious Dimensions of Advertising, New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Shenkar, Oded (2010), Copycats: How Smart Companies use Imitation to Gain a Strategic Advantage, Boston, MA: Harvard Business Press. Sklar, Annelise (2008), “I Want My MP3: Music Collecting in the Digital Age,” in Susan Koppelman and Allison Franks, eds., Collecting and the Internet: Essays on the Pursuit of Old Passions Through New Technologies, Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 81–95. Smith, Harold (2008), “Being Collected: Selling Art on the Internet,” in Susan Koppelman and Allison Franks, eds., Collecting and the Internet: Essays on the Pursuit of Old Passions Through New Technologies, Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 147–157. Styvén, Maria Ek (2010), “The Need to Touch: Exploring the Link Between Music Involvement and Tangibility Preference,” Journal of Business Research, 63, 1088–1094. Surowiecki, James (2005), The Wisdom of Crowds, New York: Anchor. Terranova, Tiziana (2000), “Free Labor: Producing Culture for the Digital Economy,” Social Text, 63 (Summer), 33–58. Thompson, Don (forthcoming), “End Game: Click on a Warhol,” draft chapter for the book The Color of Art to be published in 2013. Van Dijck, José (2007), Mediated Memories in the Digital Age, Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Van Dijck, José (2008), “Digital Photography: Communication, Identity, Memory,” Visual Communication, 7 (1), 57–76. Vargo, Stephen L. and Robert F. Lusch (2004), “Evolving a New Dominant Logic for Marketing,” Journal of Marketing, 68 ( January), 1–17. Weinberger, David (2007), Everything is Miscellaneous: The Power of the New Digital Disorder, New York: Holt. Zwick, Detlev, Samuel Bonsu, and Aron Darmody (2008), “Putting Consumers to Work: ‘Co-Creation’ and New Marketing Govern-mentality,” Journal of Consumer Culture, 8 (2), 163–186.

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24 GAINING DEEPER INSIGHT INTO AUDIENCES AND ARTISTS The use of autoethnography in arts research Marta Massi and Paul Harrison

Introduction Noli foras ire, in teipsum redi; in interiore homine habitat veritas; et si tuam naturam mutabilem inveneris, transcende et teipsum. Sed memento cum te transcendis, ratiocinantem animam te transcendere. Illuc ergo tende, unde ipsum lumen rationis accenditur. Do not look outside yourself but turn, rather, inside yourself. In the inner man dwells truth. And if therein you find your mutable nature, transcend even yourself. But remember that when you transcend yourself, you transcend the rational soul. Proceed onward, therefore, to the place where the very light of reason is illuminated. (Augustine, De vera religione, 39, 72)

“Know thyself ” (γνω∼ θι σεαυτο′ν), the famous inscription in the forecourt of the Temple of Apollo at Delphi in Ancient Greece, represents not only one of the foundations of ancient and modern philosophy, but also an ethical imperative for every individual who pursues Truth in his or her life. According to Socrates (via Plato), knowing our true self is indeed the objective of all research. How can we get to know the universe around us if we do not know ourselves? Socrates was asking his disciples the question, while maieutically persuading their authentic selves to emerge.The understanding of the individual self inevitably mediates the understanding of the world, so that a continuous flux of knowledge occurs between the self and the otherness. Autoethnography, a research methodology that brings together insights from the more established discipline of ethnography and the genre of autobiography, represents an attempt to address such an innate need to know our true self, and the world surrounding us at the same time. As the etymology of the word reveals, autoethnography has an ambiguous nature that is characterized by a bidirectional movement, one inward (autos), which is aimed at knowledge of the individual true self, and one outward (ethnos), which is oriented towards the cultural and social contexts in which the individual finds him or herself. In this sense, autoethnography functions as connective tissue between the self (autos) and the other (ethnos). Like a “synecdoche” (Chiu

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2004: 44), autoethnography allows for the study of the whole, i.e. an entire culture or society, while focusing on the particular, i.e. the individual. The emergence of autoethnography as an innovative research method in art and culture cannot be fully comprehended without reference to its context of origin, i.e. the postmodern revolution. One of the numerous consequences of the advent of the postmodern era – the crisis of universally established grand metanarratives (Lyotard 1984) – has indeed unearthed the ontological, epistemological, and axiological flaws of institutional social inquiry (Ellis and Bochner 2000). This shift in inquiry has led to new “opportunities to reform social science and reconceive the objectives and forms of social science inquiry” (Ellis et al. 2010). In the postmodern context, there is no one single universal worldview, but many different Weltanschauung, which are all legitimate and acceptable. As a consequence of such “incredulity toward metanarratives” (Lyotard 1984: xxiv), the focus of attention of research has been switched from one objectively and universally established epistheme to multiple subjective stories or myths. With its emphasis on subjectivity, introspection and emotionality, autoethnography fills the gaps of more managerial and reductive research practice, providing the subjective dimension with new dignity and status, and introducing an innovative paradigm of research. As a consequence of postmodernity pastiche ( Jameson 1991), autoethnography is both subjective and objective, as it does not try to hide the researcher behind the Truth, but rather attempts to reconnect the researcher and the Truth in an authentic, multi-directional and osmotic exchange. Influences from the postmodern perspective and hermeneutics are evident in the development of the autoethnographic method. The emergence of autoethnography can indeed be seen as a consequence of the fragmentation of experience, and of the resulting multi-mythic nature of postmodern thought which has led to an “efflorescence of multiple, often highly incompatible, lifestyles, ideologies, and myth systems” (Firat et al. 1995: 41). In addition, the establishment of a new hermeneutics (e.g. Heidegger, Gadamer) based on a redefinition of the roles of the author, the reader, and the text provides the terrain where autoethnography can flourish. What was once the passive object of the ethnographic research can now become the subject of the research. In a typical postmodern style, autoethnography stages a reversal of roles, allowing those marginalized individuals, who used to be the unaware and “neutral” object of research, to take the floor and tell their own stories (Russell 1999). The emergence of autoethnography as a research method allows arts and culture researchers to rediscover the power of stories and provide “complex, constitutive, meaningful phenomena that [teach] morals and ethics, introduce unique ways of thinking and feeling, and help people make sense of themselves and others” (Ellis et al. 2010). In particular, the narrative form, which the modernist Enlightenment had constrained to the realm of literature and poetry, is now being rediscovered, particularly in the cultural field, as a powerful tool to “apprehend” and “tell about the world” (Atkinson 1998: 118). In sum, a transition from the totalizing objectivity of history, to the subjectivity of stories, is the environment that has made it possible for autoethnography to emerge as a ground-breaking research methodology. Special issues in 2010 of the Journal of Contemporary Ethnography and the Journal of Research Practice brought attention to autoethnography, giving rise to an increasing interest towards a research method that is usually greeted with skepticism by social scientists. In this chapter, we discuss the value and congeniality of the autoethnographic method for the field of arts and culture. As Pace (2012: 2) pointed out, autoethnography has indeed been increasingly “gaining momentum as a research method within the creative and performing arts, partly because of the opportunity it provides to writers, artists, performers and others to reflect critically upon their

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personal and professional creative experiences.” We further argue that the next step in this particular evolution is to allow audiences to participate in this discourse. The purpose of this chapter, then, is to review the literature on autoethnography as a means to establishing its importance as an emergent research method in arts and culture. In particular, we draw an analogy between autoethnography and the artwork, and similarly between the researcher and the artist, in order to demonstrate how this methodology could be particularly congenial to entering the artists’ world, as well as exploring arts audiences’ needs and perceptions. This chapter does not attempt to provide a “check-list” or instruction manual for conducting autoethnographic research, which may be found elsewhere (e.g. Ellis and Bochner 2000), but to make a case for the use of this research methodology in the arts. We argue that autoethnography can extend our comprehension of the full art and culture experience, beyond that provided by modes of inquiry that are bound in scientific objectivism or philosophical realism. First, we provide some theoretical background on the social and cultural context of origin of autoethnography. Starting from an analysis of the etymology of the term, we then identify and discuss the different dimensions inherent in the concept. Second, we review the literature on autoethnography and examine the main definitions and classifications provided in the literature and look at their different characteristics, uses, and applications. Third, we apply autoethnography to the arts context and provide arguments to demonstrate how this method is particularly congenial both to the field itself and to the artists and arts audiences. Finally, we address findings and limitations in the literature, as well as focus on recommendations and implications for future research.

Autoethnography: a product of postmodernity Autoethnography has been defined as a postmodernist construct (Reed-Danahay 1997). Indeed, it represents a synthesis of postmodern ethnography, which challenges the assumptions and the objectivity of the researcher position and a postmodern autobiography, and calls into question the notion of the coherent, individual self. By questioning the canonical scientific method of inquiry, while legitimizing multiple ways of doing research, postmodernism represents “the philosophical open door into which autoethnography creeps” (Wall 2006: 148). Indeed, postmodernism encourages the spread of critical theories that challenge traditional social research methodologies. Critical streams of research are best characterized as an approach that runs against established assumptions of traditional social inquiry. Similarly, poststructuralist theories, such as those proposed by Derrida, advocate against textual objectivism. Based on the postmodern perspective, there is not one single way to look at reality since “all descriptions [are] equally valid … [Any] researcher can do no more than describe his or her personal experiences” (Neuman 1994: 74). As a product of the postmodern “loss of control, consistency and predictability” (Christensen et al. 2005: 156), autoethnography incorporates some essential characteristics and dimensions of postmodernity, namely pastiche, anti-foundationalism, segmentation, and dedifferentiation. The “incredulity toward metanarratives” (Lyotard 1984: xxiv) and crisis of confidence that characterize postmodernity make it possible for autoethnography to emerge as an appropriate research method that brings together two separate Weltanschauung: that of subjectivity of self and that of objectivity of otherness. In this sense, autoethnography could be regarded as a postmodern pastiche. According to Jameson (1991: 17) “pastiche is, like parody, the imitation of a peculiar or unique style, the wearing of a stylistic mask, speech in a dead language: but it is a neutral practice of such mimicry, without parody’s ulterior motive, without the satirical impulse, without laughter.” Similarly, autoethnography could be seen as a mix of codes, a parody of the more

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traditional ethnography, which challenges strongholds such as the silent authorship and the separation between the object and the subject of the research, and mixes different genres (e.g. autobiography, ethnography, and memoir). Moreover, autoethnography is anti-foundationalist, as it refutes global or universal metanarratives and incorporates the postmodern “characteristic antipathy towards systematic generalizations, the totalizing metanarratives of science, socialism, humanism, etc., which form part of the modern movement’s discredited search for universal truths and objective knowledge” (Brown 1994: 38). Further, autoethnography originates from postmodern dedifferentiation (Firat et al. 1995), i.e. “the erosion and effacement of established hierarchies – high and low culture, education and training, politics and showbusiness – and the blurring of what were formerly clear-cut entities (philosophy and literature, author and reader, science and religion, etc.)” (Brown 1994: 38). Similarly, autoethnography rejects “the deep-rooted binary oppositions between the researcher and the researched, objectivity and subjectivity, process and product, self and others, art and science, and the personal and the political” (Ellingson and Ellis 2008: 450–459).

Autoethnography: the revanche of subjectivity Autoethnography is a qualitative research method (Chang 2007; Ellis 2004; Ellis and Bochner 2000), which emerged as a subcategory of ethnography. A “natural science of society” (RadcliffeBrown 1957: 33), ethnography is the study of cultures and ethnicities based on the participant observation of the researcher. The ethnographic method was developed by colonial researchers such as Malinowski, who in the 1920s lived immersed in tribal societies in the Trobriand Islands off the coast of New Guinea. Based on the ethnographic tenet of “going native,” the researcher detaches him or herself from the research settings in an attempt to neutralize the subjectivity dimension. But herein lies the fundamental difference between ethnography and autoethnography, namely, “in an autoethnography, the researcher is not trying to become an insider in the research setting. He or she, in fact, is the insider.The context is his or her own” (Duncan 2004: 3). Originally coined by Hayano (1979) in a seminal paper, the term “autoethnography” represents the shift from the traditional colonialist era of ethnography to a new phase of the discipline, characterized by the study of social contexts and subcultures in which the researchers belong. However, it was not until the mid-1990s that the term “autoethnography” was officially coined to identify a method and a discipline that was an alternative to ethnography. In 1992, Professor of Linguistics at New York University, Mary Louise Pratt conceptualized autoethnography as opposed to ethnography, “If ethnographic texts are a means by which Europeans represent to themselves their (usually subjugated) others, autoethnographic texts are those the others construct in response to or in dialogue with those metropolitan representations” (Pratt 1992: 7). While ethnography can be conceived as a prerogative of white, Western colonial researchers, autoethnography presents a means by which a colonized or marginalized subject can represent themselves. A postmodern reversal of roles occurs, i.e. what was once the passive object of ethnographic research now becomes the subject of autoethnography. Autoethnography is therefore intrinsically reactionary and revolutionary because by incorporating the subjectivity dimension (autos) in the ethnographic method, it unhinges one of the epistemological and methodological strongholds of positivist social inquiry, the objectivity of research. With its focus on subjectivity and storytelling, autoethnography represents a challenge to traditional ethnography, and an attempt to “resist colonialist, sterile research impulses of authoritatively entering a culture exploiting cultural members, and then recklessly leaving to

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write about the culture for monetary and/or professional gain, while disregarding relational ties to cultural members” (Ellis et al. 2010). As the etymology of the term reveals, autoethnography is a multidimensional concept that incorporates a subjective inward dimension (autos = self ), an objective outward dimension (ethnos), and a narrative dimension (graphein = to write or describe) which focuses on storytelling as a means of knowing the self and the world. The analysis of the different dimensions of the concept reveals insights on the autoethnography methodology: Autos: Autos (´ó) is a Greek word, functioning as a pronoun or an adjective depending on context and corresponding to Latin ipse, meaning self or same. This prefix represents the real novelty and difference from traditional ethnography in that it provides ethnography with that subjectivity dimension which was carefully avoided and scrupulously removed by mainstream ethnographers. Based on the positivist epistemology, canonical ethnography is indeed aimed at nullifying the presence of the researcher and placing him or her outside the text in order to avoid the Hawthorne effect (i.e. the tendency of individuals to alter their behavior when they perceive they are observed as the object of an experiment), and to facilitate the “going native” process. In this sense, autoethnography is not aimed at achieving an objective and neutral knowledge like other theory-driven or hypothesis-testing research methods, but represents a critical “response to the alienating effects on both researchers and audiences of impersonal, passionless, abstract claims of truth generated by such research practices and clothed in exclusionary scientific discourse” (Ellingson and Ellis 2008: 450). By incorporating the prefix auto into the word ethnography, autoethnography emerges as an oxymoron, an oppositional concept which, like a postmodern pastiche, brings together two different and opposite Weltanschauung. However, the particularity about autoethnography is that the focus on subjectivity is not absolute. As Chang (2008) puts it, there is no “self in a vacuum” since the role of the otherness is never neglected, i.e. “others of similarity,” “others of difference,” and “others of opposition” are the natural counterpart of the self. Ethnos: is a Greek word that literally means people or nation. In the context of autoethnography, this prefix refers to the socio-cultural context, i.e. the otherness of the research. Autoethnography is indeed an “autobiographical genre of writing” which connects “the personal to the cultural” (Ellis and Bochner 2000: 739). Autoethnography is based on the idea that the self and the other are inseparable and that the knowledge of the one cannot prescind from knowledge of the other. This aspect reveals the influence of Gadamerian hermeneutics – that, contrary to traditional research approaches that focus upon certifying and controlling, truly knowing also requires interpreting and dialoguing. According to Gadamer (1989: 276–277), human beings are contextual beings, who are historically situated: “[H]istory does not belong to us; we belong to it. Long before we understand ourselves through the process of self-examination, we understand ourselves in a self-evident way in the family, society, and state in which we live.” By connecting “the personal and the cultural” (Ellis and Bochner 2000: 739), autoethnography is context-conscious and situated. Graphein: The Greak verb grapho (´ ) means to write or describe. A main contribution of autoethnography is to provide not only subjectivity but also the narrative genre with new dignity. Often treated as unscientific (Sarbin 1986; Eisenhardt 1991), and confined to the realm of poetry and literature, the narrative genre is in fact revalued in the autoethnographic work. Similar to other genres of self-narrative, such as memoir or autobiography, which are also based on storytelling, autoethnography differs because it “transcends mere narration of self to engage in cultural analysis and interpretation” (Chang 2008: 43). More

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than other genres, narratives allow for understanding of self (e.g. Atkinson 1998; Czarniawska 1997; McAdams 1993) since they function as heuristic tools, which make “individuals, cultures, societies, and historical epochs comprehensible as wholes” (Richardson 1990: 117). In addition, narratives are pervasive of the human experience: “narrative is everywhere; it is present in myth, fable, short story, epic, history, tragedy, comedy, painting, dance, stained glass window, cinema, social histories, fairy tales, novels, science schema, comic strips, conversation and journal articles” (Richardson 1990: 117). Depending on the degree of emphasis put on one of the three dimensions, a continuum (or perhaps a spectrum) can be imagined where “[d]ifferent exemplars of autoethnography fall at different places along the continuum of each of these three axes” (Ellis and Bochner 2000: 740). Some autoethnographies focus more on the subjective introspection, others on cultural interpretation and analysis, and others again on the narrative process.As Chang (2008: 3) argues,“autoethnography should be ethnographical in its methodological orientation, cultural in its interpretive orientation, and autobiographical in its content orientation.” Sharing all of these characteristics is necessary to define a research work as autoethnographic. In this way, a clear border is drawn between the field of autoethnography and all the other self-reflective writings (e.g. autobiographies, memoirs, etc.) that share one or more of these characteristics.

Autoethnography and the arts: a symbiotic relationship As a very subjective, emotional, introspective methodology, autoethnography shares some characteristics and dimensions with the field of the arts and culture, and appears to be particularly suitable to conduct research upon, and understand, artists and arts audiences. Arts-based characteristics such as creativity, imagination, and self-generated narratives become central to the practice of autoethnography, and function as analytical tools to scrutinize reality. Indeed, in the majority of cases, both art and autoethnography are based on storytelling. As Olson (1998: 168) observed “the most important purpose of art is to tell a story – to share one’s interests and concerns, one’s personal view of the world, one’s joys and sorrows, to touch the life of another.” Further, autoethnography is particularly suitable to the arts in that it offers congenial, userfriendly and non-invasive research tools to artists and arts audiences. In this way, autoethnography facilitates the processes of data collection and in-depth data analysis/interpretation. In addition, it is arguable that autoethnography, more than many other research methods, provides artists with consciousness of their “assumptions, processes and perceptions about artistic practice, so that [they] can talk about [themselves] and use this knowledge to further [their] understandings of the field” (Stewart 2003). As Smith and Dean (2009) point out, such aspects of autoethnography are particularly interesting in contexts such as the Australian academic research environment where both governments and institutions are encouraging artist-researchers to identify the features of their creative practice that constitute research and that make an original contribution to knowledge. Similarly, by favoring the development of a consciousness amongst arts audiences, autoethnography makes it possible to identify individuals’ temporary and context-bound meanings, perceptions, feelings, and emotions developed as a response or reaction to the artwork. This information is critical in contexts such as museums or art galleries where “how a visitor interacts with artworks and their settings is determined by personal needs, associations, biases, and fantasies rather than by institutional recommendations” (Baker and Richardson 1998: 18–19).

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In the following sections of this chapter, we outline seven specific arguments to illustrate the strong alignment between art and autoethnography, and advocate for autoethnography to be considered as a valid and valuable methodology when conducting research in the arts sector.

Autoethnography is intrinsically cultural Given its mixed nature of subjective (auto) and objective (ethno) methodology, and its embeddedness in culture, history, and society, autoethnography is intrinsically cultural. As Tedlock (2007: 152) argued, autoethnography is “a cultural performance that transcends self-referentiality by engaging with cultural forms that are directly involved in the creation of culture.” Indeed, autoethnography incorporates Michel de Montaigne’s idea that every man shares something of the human condition. As de Montaigne (1575/1958) observed in the sixteenth century, “You can tie up all moral philosophy with a common and private life just as well as with a life of richer stuff. Each man bears the entire form of the human condition.” Like a synecdoche, the part, i.e. every man, represents therefore the whole, i.e. mankind in its totality. Thus, culture runs through the self and as Holbrook (2005: 45) points out, paraphrasing de Montaigne, writing about the self inevitably corresponds to describing “some aspect of the human condition.” Such a link to culture makes autoethnography particularly congenial to the arts and culture field. Similar to autoethnography, art establishes a connection between the self and culture. Indeed, through art, artists “examine the self, investigate and express the worlds of others, transgress stifling conventions and boundaries, resist oppressions, grieve and heal, produce intersubjective knowledge, reveal the hidden meanings of memory work, and come to terms with multiple and contradictory identities” (Bochner and Ellis 2003: 510). Autoethnography makes all this possible providing artists with user-friendly and congenial tools to connect auto and ethno (self and culture) and offering them “the possibility of more compelling and convincing narratives about human living and human culture” (Crawford 1996: 170).

Autoethnography is a creative process and a work of art Many scholars (e.g. Eisner 1991; Richardson 1992; Denzin 1992) have emphasized the similarities between qualitative research practice and artistic activity. Eisner (1991), for example, argued that his experience as a painter helped him to become a researcher. Autoethnography is both a qualitative method (or process) and a product (or object) (Ellis et al. 2010). It is an artistic process because it involves a creating mechanism, i.e. the researcher looks inside him or herself to uncover meanings, perceptions, and feelings. As the result of a creative process, autoethnography is also a product which could be assimilated to a work of art. Indeed, artworks and autoethnographic products are both creations. Similarly, art is not only an object and a product, but also “a process, a way of knowing, a manner of speaking or an encounter with others. It has the capacity for sensuality and emotionality, and to represent, evoke and embody as it reveals an artist’s perception and feelings” (Bochner and Ellis 2003: 508). The analogy between art and autoethnography holds true because art itself “can be used not only as a mode of representation but as a mode of inquiry, a research methodology, and a narrative practice” (Bochner and Ellis 2003: 510). Indeed, some evocative autoethnographies can be assimilated to art. As Mereness (2008) suggests, both artworks and autoethnographies share a number of characteristics such as reflexivity, subjectivity, evocativeness, vulnerability, and emotionality. As a result of such a similarity between autoethnography and art, other artistic forms of autoethnography have been introduced 262

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recently in addition to literary forms such as poetry and narrative, e.g. collage, installations, photography, and paintings (i.e. Ball 2002; Keys 2003; Springgay 2002). Artwork could be regarded as an approach to autoethnography that “evokes response from others, inspires imagination, gives pause for new possibilities and meanings, and opens new questions and avenues of inquiry” (Ellis 2004: 215).

Autoethnography makes artists and arts audiences more accessible for research purposes Sharing many features with art, autoethnography represents an artist and audience-friendly methodology. As Chang (2008: 11) points out, autoethnography is a researcher-friendly methodology allowing “researchers to access easily the primary data source from the beginning because the source is themselves.” It is not new that artists are often very idiosyncratic and introverted individuals who do not like revealing the details of their creations and who often show themselves reticent to be interviewed or to disclose private information. According to Suzanne Lacy (1995: 173), the qualities associated with artists are predominantly privacy, idiosyncrasy, and criticism, since the artist, “driven by the integrity of an intensely private studio practice struggles to create pure expression against nature, culture, society or the art world. In doing so, the artist becomes an observer of society and thus distanced from it.” As Malcolm Miles (1997: 88) observes, this cliché of the artist could be related to the modernist tradition of the artist as a monad, an individual genius who works privately in a studio and holds the prerogative on innovation and creativity. Such an attitude is often an object of criticism since it emphasizes the distanced and elitist role of the artist, living in the ivory tower and set apart from the rest of the world. In particular, artists often refuse the modernist traditional standards of inquiry that emphasize control, distance, and neutrality. Many do not like being interviewed or investigated, and according to Bochner and Ellis (2003: 506) artists conceive art as “an embodied inquiry – sensuous, emotional, intimate” where imagination is “as important as rigor, meanings as important as facts, and the heart as important as the mind.” Because of these idiosyncrasies, conducting research with typical scientific research methods within the artists’ world is likely to be challenging, if not impossible. Artists may perceive face-to-face interviews as invasive methods attempting to force their intimacy to obtain private information. In this regard, autoethnography represents a valid escamotage to bypass the psychological and material barriers that artists could oppose to provide a useful support to enter the artist world in a very soft and direct way. Autoethnography encourages spontaneity, truthfulness, and authenticity, helping artists, who are notoriously introverted, idiosyncratic individuals, to express their emotions and true selves. Similarly, autoethnography offers user-friendly tools to gather information from the arts audiences. While traditional positivist ways of gathering information could be perceived as intrusive and intimidating by audiences, and generate research biases, autoethnography reduces or nullifies the gap between the researcher and the researched, the self and the otherness. For example, participants using auto-videographical methods are often more spontaneous, selfdirected, and natural due to the absence of a researcher, thus showing what is important to them rather than providing research-elicited behavior (Belk and Kozinets 2005). Auto-videography is also perceived as less intrusive and more active (Kozinets and Belk 2006). In addition, other types of autoethnographic narratives, such as personal reports, make it possible to overcome the Hawthorne effect. By nullifying the hierarchical distance between the researcher and the researched, autoethnography is less obtrusive and invasive than other research methodologies.

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Famous examples of autoethnographies can be found in the cinematographic arts. La Belle Noiseuse, the masterpiece of the French director Jacques Rivette awarded with the Grand Prix at the 1991 Cannes Film Festival, represents a rare autoethnographic attempt of an artist to reveal and disclose information on the artistic process leading to the creation of a painting. Inspired by Balzac’s novella Le Chef-d’oeuvre inconnu, first published in 1831, La Belle Noiseuse is the typical example of an artist “examining closely the creative process in a medium not practiced by either one” (Cossa 2011: 21). The film tells the story of a famous painter, Frenhofer, who retired to an isolated mansion in the Languedoc.The painter decides to finish La Belle Noiseuse, a painting that he abandoned years ago.The majority of the film, which lasts four hours, shows the artist at work. There is little dialogue in the film, because the artist and the model rarely communicate (although they do fight and argue during the creative process). The focus of the film is the artistic process, rather than the final product; at the end of the film no one – including the spectator – ever sees the final painting except the model who shortly stares at it. As Cossa (2011: 21) notes, “Rivette, true to the intention of Balzac, understands – and tries to convince an audience who sat for four hours waiting to see the ‘masterpiece’ – that for artists it is the process that matters, not the result.” Other examples of autoethnographic attempts to reflexively explain the artistic process include François Truffaut’s Day for Night (Stam 1985), a movie about making a movie, practically a meta-film, and Pier Paolo Pasolini’s Notes for an African Oresteia, a 1973 documentary in which the author goes through the different phases of the realization of a movie (actors’ interviews, place inspections, etc.).

Autoethnography favors dialogue and communication between the artists and their audiences, and among professional communities Being based on a narrative style, autoethnography promotes interpersonal communication and dialogue. Artists have been one of the first groups to recognize the potential of autoethnography to enhance communication and exchange among artist communities and arts practitioners. Stewart (2003), for example, emphasizes how artist-based research such as autoethnography allows artists to “become conscious of [their] assumptions, processes and perceptions about artistic practice, so that [they] can talk about them and use this knowledge to further [their] understandings of the field.” Autoethnography can also help artists not only to express, but also to systematize arts processes and praxes creating “a reality base of evolving theory to increase awareness of what we do as practice-based researchers” (Stewart 2003). By making the artists conscious of their assumptions, processes, and perceptions about artistic practice, autoethnography favors dialogue in the field and between professional communities. For instance, in his autoethnography on dance education, Anttila (2007: 44) sees autoethnography as an “opportunity to re-examine my own values in dance education and the extent to which I was living these values in practice. Despite the personal nature of this journey, I hope that my story will facilitate discussion about values in dance education among practitioners and researchers in dance.” In addition, autoethnography favors communication between artists and art audiences. By expressing and making explicit arts processes and dynamics, autoethnography brings the world of the artist and that of the audience closer. By disclosing the artists’ personal thoughts, feelings, stories, and observations, and making their emotions visible and understandable to the audience, autoethnography removes that aura of inaccessibility that characterizes the figure of the artist. Indeed, autoethnography allows for transforming the image of the artist from a monadic individual living in an ivory tower separated from the world, to a more emphatic and communicative individual. In this way, autoethnography reduces the separation between “front” and “backstage” (Goffman 1959). 264

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Artist autoethnographies can lead to a more “sophisticated and critical understanding” of the artwork (Ruby 1977: 4), particularly of the three components (the producer, the product, and the process), making them more accessible to their audience. Similarly, by disclosing the cognitive and emotional processes that the audiences employ when interacting with the artwork, autoethnography reduces the gap between the artist and the audience itself. As illustrated in the 1966 Ingmar Bergman masterpiece, Persona, a transmutation of one character into another can occur in autoethnography. In the movie, Elizabeth (the artist) and Alma (the nurse) end up being the same person, and at the apex of the film the iconic image of the overlap of the faces of two women dissolving into one another exemplifies a blurring of dichotomies, namely, subjectivity/objectivity, self/other, artist/human being, persona (character)/ individual.

Autoethnography is an opportunity for auto-analysis, self-awareness, and epiphanies Based on an inward movement leading to introspection, autoethnography represents an opportunity to disclose meanings and interpretations that the artist (or a member of the audience) was not aware of at the beginning. Indeed, an artist is not completely aware of the processes, thoughts, emotions, and feelings that lead him or her to the creation of an artwork. Similarly, the audience is not completely aware of the interpretations, emotions, and feelings that an artwork could elicit in him or herself. Only critical reflection upon their personal and professional creative experiences can allow artists to become aware of their condition.This orientation towards the inner self has become increasingly popular among artists. Bartleet and Ellis (2009: 6–7), for example, describe “increasing numbers of musicians wanting to examine, understand and communicate the personal stories behind their creative experiences.” Further, a mechanism that is often induced by autoethnography is epiphany. Epiphany is “a sudden spiritual manifestation” in which “the soul of the commonest object … seems to us radiant” ( Joyce 1963: 213). As Denzin (1989) points out, storytelling helps humans make sense of epiphanies, thus autoethnography represents an opportunity to address such spiritual revelations. This process is particularly evident in the autoethnographies of artists. Finley and Knowles (1995: 131), for example, reveal how the autoethnographic process helped them realize their real identity: My assessment of myself today is much different than it was in our earlier conversations. I am now far more confident of my identity as an artist. In part, I think that is because this self-reflective research has allowed me to say, “Yes. I am an artist.” And I can say, “Yes. I am a researcher.” But I have also discovered that my researcher self and artist self are not separate. I am simultaneously artist-as-researcher and researcher-as-artist, whatever specific task I am engaged in. When I am building a collage of images of a person’s life history, I have heightened awareness of which experiences were most defining in that person’s life. Similarly, de Cosson (2002: 11) describes an epiphany which allowed him to understand the relationship between art and research: For many art teachers their artist self is often neglected, hidden, even repressed, to conform to the “norm” that is the teacher. We were in the researching process of

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validating our doing as artists, through each other and our work. That we were in the presence of research in our weekly meetings became abundantly clear to me as I enthusiastically cajoled a fellow group member, “You are doing research, you are because you are here and that is what we are doing” as she or he questioned labeling our work research, choosing instead to label it simply art making (feeling more comfortable in a familiar place) and not research (this more difficult place in which we wished to dwell). For me it was the moment of being in and of “the other.” In Gadamer’s (1974) words, I was “in the game.”

Like art, autoethnography is related to the issue of authenticity Authenticity is a highly debated issue, particularly in a world where the distinction between the copy and the original is blurred (Benjamin 1973). Individuals are indeed increasingly looking for authentic experiences, i.e. “memorable events that engage them in an inherently personal way” (Pine and Gilmore 1999: 1). Such a search for authenticity could be regarded as a response to the fragmentation and alienation processes of postmodernity (Arnould and Price 2000), or of the industrialization and the resulting mass production that have destroyed “the most basic premise of authenticity, rarity, individuality, and uniqueness” (Fisher and Smith 2011: 329). From an etymological standpoint, the term “authenticity” derives from the Greek adjective ´   ó (authentikòs), which is made up of autos (himself ) and entos (inside), thus referring to the individual’s true inner self, which differs from what the individual is perceived as externally. Thus, based on this etymology, authenticity could be conceptualized as “our true self, our individual existence, not as we might present it to others, but as it ‘really is’, apart from any roles we play” (Handler 1986: 3). More than other research methods, autoethnography acknowledges and accommodates (instead of hiding) the subjectivity, emotionality, and authenticity of the researcher. Thus, autoethnography should, at least in theory, address “being true to oneself,” which is the essence of authenticity. According to McIlveen (2008: 16), “an autoethnography should produce a narrative that is authentic and thus enable the reader to deeply grasp the experience and interpretation of this one interesting case.” Obviously, with authenticity being “a morally superior and desirable ideal – an escape from or alternative to an ‘unreal’ experience ‘system’” (Aupers et al. 2010: 4), autoethnography does not necessarily lead to authentic narratives of the self, but it represents an attempt to disclose the individual true self. Contemporary media such as Facebook, Twitter and Tumblr have been increasingly used as a means to gather authentic narratives around identity since they allow for more authentic disclosure of perceptions and feelings. By removing the obstacles of the Hawthorne effect, however, autoethnography can favor authenticity both for the artists and the arts audiences. Similarly to the art world (Fine 2003), where the advent of the technological reproducibility has threatened the authenticity of the work of art (Benjamin 1973), positivist research methodologies can threaten the authenticity of the research.

Autoethnography encourages co-creation between the “producer” and the consumer In the postmodern era of consumption (Firat and Shultz 1997; Brown 1995), consuming products is no longer “a passive act of unpacking and discovering the meaning intended by the producer” but becomes “an active and creative process through which consumers continuously 266

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produce and reproduce their own identity” (Christensen et al. 2005: 158). Indeed, value cocreation practices have replaced the firm-centric view of organizations allowing consumers to individualize experience, personalize offerings, and “uniquely tailor products to fit their needs and express themselves as a creative author of their products” (Fisher and Smith 2011: 330). The firm-centric view may be compared to classical theatre where a clear separation between stage and parterre occurs and both actors (firms) and the audience (customers) have well-defined and separate roles. In contrast, the customer-centric view can be assimilated to experimental theatre (from the 1960s and 1970s) in which everyone could be part of the action and the roles of the firm and of the consumer converged. Value co-creation therefore means that customers are coming “on stage” (Prahalad and Ramaswamy 2000). Similarly, in the art world, the artist cannot be regarded as the only actor on the stage. Although he or she is the material creator of the artwork, the artist is not the only creator of the meaning associated to the artwork. As a consequence, the artistic process is no longer unidirectional, because the art audiences actively participate in the process by co-creating the meaning of the artwork and participating in symbolic exchanges and coproduction according to what in marketing would be called a service-dominant logic (Vargo and Lusch 2004). Indeed, in the postmodern era a reversal of production and consumption occurs, that is “each act of production is also an act of consumption and vice versa” (Firat and Venkatesh 1995: 254). The concept of co-creation in the arts is well exemplified by Fillis (2004: 127) who explains how “each time a painting is ‘consumed’ by a different observer, a different subjective experience occurs. The meaning assigned to the painting changes, although its physical composition remains constant. Ultimately each cultural consumer obtains a unique set of intellectual and emotional reactions from the experience.” As a means to identify such “intellectual and emotional reactions,” autoethnography promotes co-creation. By reflexively disclosing their emotions, thoughts, and feelings, consumers, as new auctores (Bourdieu 1998) in the culture creation process, use art works and the related meanings to build their own identity. Autoethnography represents therefore a useful tool to enhance the connection between artists and arts audiences. As Ramsey White et al. (2009: 785) demonstrated, the higher the degree of audiences’ co-creation of art experiences the greater likelihood of positive value being co-created and as a consequence the greater the possibility of individuals engaging in further co-creation experiences in the future.

Implications and conclusion More than many other research methodologies, autoethnography favors reflexivity, thus promoting stream of consciousness and introspection. As a consequence, one important implication is that autoethnography is able to assist arts managers to explore and understand audiences’ perceptions, needs, and expectations related to artworks and art exhibitions in a unique way. In this sense, authoethnography allows for gathering “filter-less,” genuine and authentic information as to how individuals intimately and personally connect and interact with artworks. The information gathered through autoethnography provides an alternative, less standardized way to develop strategies in contexts such as museums and art galleries, and in the performing arts. As Baker and Richardson (1998: 18–19) point out, “while guidebooks may suggest what a visitor should look at, and even the route that he or she should follow, the meanings that the single individual might read into the objects encountered along the way will only rarely coincide with the strategic thinking of the Museum’s planners.” Indeed, across the arts spectrum autoethography can incorporate an audience perspective, supporting a co-creation logic, while

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integrating and complementing the more objective and managerial decisions taking place in arts and cultural services. In addition, as the innovative work by vom Lehn et al. (2001: 208) demonstrated, reflexivity becomes critical as the audience interacts with the artwork: “the physical environment is reflexively constituted within the developing course of the participants’ conduct, which configures relevancies, ways of seeing, and the very intelligibility of the material setting.” Thus, understanding what captures the audience’s attention and which meanings and interpretations the audience associates with the artwork is critical to the development of art exhibitions, museum paths, and layouts. Similarly, from the artist’s perspective, there are implications related to the rationalization of the artistic process. Through autoethnography, artists can perform auto-analysis and let tacit or unconscious knowledge emerge.They can experience epiphanies or revelations, explain or make understandable what apparently is nonsensical and inexplicable. Bypassing the artists’ psychological and material impediments to reveal themselves, autoethnography facilitates that process of rationalization of the artistic process and practice, which is often seen as antithetical to the creative process itself.Turning the irrational into rational and the tacit into explicit, autoethnography makes the artists conscious of their assumptions, processes, and perceptions about artistic practice, thus promoting dialogue in the field and between professional communities. Arts researchers and managers could employ autoethnography to encourage artists to identify the aspects and phases of their creative practice and to enhance theoretical understanding of their creative practice. Methodologically, autoethnography is artist- and audience-friendly, and represents an alternative to more traditional or canonical qualitative research methods. Autoethnography removes the usual filters through which much research is distilled, and can assist in avoiding many common research biases such as leniency biases, social desirability, and acquiescence biases. There are also material advantages related to autoethnography. In some cases, like videoautoethnography, this method makes it possible to generate a substantial amount of rich data in a short amount of time and within a tight research budget (McCormick 2011). Autoethnography could be used to triangulate results of different research methods and increase the rigor and validity of qualitative studies. In addition, promoting cultural understanding of the relationship between self and otherness, autoethnography favors understanding and identification between the artist and the audience, and makes their respective worlds nearer, thus reducing the gap between the inaccessible, monadic, quasi-divine artist, and the more earthly audience. Arts managers can develop an understanding of the artist and the objectives of their organization by promoting encounters in which the artist does not speak ex cathedra, such as the traditional “meet the artist” style events, but adopts a more friendly, down-to-earth and open approach to communicate to the audience his or her intimate thoughts, feelings, and emotions through storytelling and self-narrative. At a practical level, this could be achieved through written, audio, or video texts. Moreover, favoring co-creation of meaning, autoethnography is likely to increase individuals’ engagement and participation in the arts processes and practices. Managers could leverage this feature of autoethnography promoting co-creative practices and collaborative creativity and enhancing audience participation. With its focus on interactivity and multimediality, the Internet becomes the natural environment in which to share autoethnographic reports and engage the audience in co-creative practices, such as online arts communities. From this perspective, there are a number of research avenues in the field of arts autoethnography. Research could investigate, for example, which autoethnographic genres are more suitable to gather information from audiences and artists, e.g. video-autoethnography, personal reports, or prose.

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In addition to benefits, there are also limitations related to the employment of such a subjective methodology, which has often been dismissed as self-indulgent and narcissistic (Geertz 1988) by canonical ethnographers. In particular, according to Chang (2008: 15), there are at least five pitfalls that autoethnographers should avoid: “(1) excessive focus on self in isolation of others; (2) overemphasis on narration rather than analysis and cultural interpretation; (3) exclusive reliance on personal memory and recalling as a data source; (4) negligence of ethical standards regarding others in self-narratives; and (5) inappropriate application of the label ‘autoethnography’.” In this chapter, we have advocated for the employment of autoethnography as a methodology and technique in the arts and culture field. By drawing an analogy between autoethnography and the artwork, we have emphasized the congeniality between such an innovative research methodology and the art world. In particular, we have focused on the suitability of autoethnography to gather information from two main stakeholders of the art world, the artists and the arts audiences. Our purpose was not to provide a vademecum on how to apply the autoethnographic technique, but rather to make a case for recommending and increasing the use of autoethnography as an experimental and innovative research method in the arts and culture. While such a methodology has been often overlooked because of a perception that it does not meet the standards of more positivistic, objective, and quantitative methodologies, which seem to dominate managers’ strategic decisions and mindset, autoethnography could address different emerging needs and expectations such as authenticity and co-creation in the arts. By staging a fusion of horizons of the ego and the otherness, autoethnography provides a new perspective on the arts. In particular, by linking the autos and the ethnos, subjectivity and objectivity, autoethnograpy offers a way to transcend the distance and neutrality of more canonical research methodologies. Although arts managers and bureaucrats may have been captured by the allure of managerialism and, in particular, by research that, at face value, provides absolute, objective, and clear answers, it is arguable that future research in the arts field should not prescind from considering the inner subjectivity dimension, which is innate in the art experience. Autoethnography could therefore provide the means to address such a dimension and offer a deeper understanding of the human experience of art. Autoethnography provides a way to address the “Know thyself ” tenet, which is the basis of all research, and to re-establish the role of philosophy in research which, as Foucault (1982: 779) observes, is “to keep watch over the excessive powers of political rationality.”

References Anttila, E. (2007) “Searching for dialogue in dance education: A teacher’s story,” Dance Research Journal, 39: 43–57. Arnould, E.J. and Price, L.L. (2000) “Authenticating acts and authoritative performances,” in S. Ratneshwar, D.G. Mick, and C. Huffman (eds) The why of consumption: Contemporary perspectives on consumers’ motives, goals, and desires, New York: Routledge. Atkinson, R. (1998) The life story interview, Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Aupers, S., Houtman, D., and Roeland, J. (2010) “Authenticiteit; de culturele obsessie met echt en onecht,” Sociologie, 6: 3–10. Baker, M. and Richardson, B. (1998) A grand design: The art of the Victoria and Albert Museum, London: V&A Publications. Ball, H. (2002) “Subversive materials: Quilts as social text,” Alberta Journal of Educational Research, 48: 1–29. Bartleet, B.-L. and Ellis, C. (eds) (2009) Music autoethnographies: Making autoethnography sing/making music personal, Brisbane: Australian Academic Press. Belk, R.W. and Kozinets, R.V. (2005) “Videography in marketing and consumer research,” Qualitative Market Research: An International Journal, 8: 128–141.

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Marta Massi and Paul Harrison Benjamin, W. (1973) “The work of art in the age of mechanical reproduction,” in H. Arendt (ed.) Illuminations, London: Fontana Press. Bochner, A.P. and Ellis, C. (2003) “An introduction to the arts and narrative research: Art as inquiry,” Qualitative Inquiry, 9: 506–514. Bourdieu, P. (1998) Practical reason: On the theory of action, Cambridge: Polity Press. Brown, S. (1994) “Marketing as multiplex: Screening postmodernism,” European Journal of Marketing, 28: 27–51. Brown, S. (1995) Postmodern marketing, London: Routledge. Chang, H. (2007) “Autoethnography: Raising cultural consciousness of self and others,” in G. Walford (ed.) Methodological developments in ethnography (Studies in Educational Ethnography, Volume 12), Bingley: Emerald Group Publishing. Chang, H. (2008) Autoethnography as method, Walnut Creek, CA: Left Coast Press. Chiu, J. (2004) “I salute the spirit of my communities,” College Literature, 3: 43–69. Christensen, L., Firat, F.A., and Thoger, T.S. (2005) “Integrated marketing communication and postmodernity: An odd couple?” Corporate Communications: An International Journal, 10: 156–167. Cossa, F. (2011) “Jacques Rivette’s La belle noiseuse and Balzac’s The unknown masterpiece: a film about a story about a painting,” Proceedings of the 2nd Annual International Conference on Visual and Performing Arts, Athens. Crawford, L. (1996) “Personal ethnography,” Communication Monographs, 63: 158–170. Czarniawska, B. (1997) A narrative approach to organization studies, Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. de Cosson, A. (2002) “The hermeneutic dialogue: Finding patterns amid the aporia of the artist/researcher/teacher,” Alberta Journal of Educational Research, 48: 1–31. de Montaigne, M. (1575/1958) The Complete Essays of Montaigne, D. Frame (ed.), Palo Alto, CA: Stanford University Press. Denzin, N.K. (1992) “The many faces of emotionality: Reading persona,” in C. Ellis and M.G. Flaherty (eds) Investigating subjectivity, Newbury Park, CA: Sage. Denzin, N.K. (1989) Interpretive biography, Newbury Park, CA: Sage. Duncan, M. (2004) “Autoethnography: Critical appreciation of an emerging art,” International Journal of Qualitative Methods, 3: 28–39. Eisenhardt, K.M. (1991) “Better stories and better constructs: The case for rigor and comparative logic,” Academy of Management Review, 16: 620–627. Eisner, E.W. (1991) “What the arts taught me about education,” in G. Willis and W.H. Schubert (eds) Reflections from the heart of educational inquiry: Understanding curriculum and teaching through the arts, Albany: State University of New York Press. Ellingson, L.L. and Ellis, C. (2008) “Autoethnography as constructionist project,” in J.A. Holstein and J.F. Gubrium (eds) Handbook of constructionist research, New York: Guilford Press. Ellis, C. (2004) The ethnographic I: A methodologic novel about autoethnography, Berkeley CA: AltaMira Press. Ellis, C. and Bochner, A.P. (2000) “Autoethnography, personal narrative, reflexivity,” in N.K. Denzin and Y.S. Lincoln (eds) Handbook of qualitative research, Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Ellis, C., Adams, T.E. and Bochner, A.P. (2010) “Autoethnography: An overview,” Forum Qualitative Sozialforschung/Forum: Qualitative Social Research, 12, http://nbn-resolving.de/urn:nbn:de:0114fqs1101108 [accessed December 2012]. Fillis, I. (2004) “The theory and practice of visual arts marketing,” in F. Kerrigan, P. Fraser, and M. Ozbilgin (eds) Arts marketing, Oxford: Elsevier. Fine, G. (2003) “Crafting authenticity: The validation of identity in self-taught art,” Theory and Society, 32: 153–180. Finley, S. and Knowles, J.G. (1995) “Researcher as artist/artist as researcher,” Qualitative Inquiry, 1: 110–142. Firat, A.F. and Shultz, C.J. (1997) “From segmentation to fragmentation,” European Journal of Marketing, 31: 183–207. Firat, A.F. and Venkatesh, A. (1995) “Liberatory postmodernism and the reenchantment of consumption,” Journal of Consumer Research, 22: 239–267. Firat, A.F., Dholakia, N., and Venkatesh, A. (1995) “Marketing in a postmodern world,” European Journal of Marketing, 29: 40–56. Fisher, D. and Smith, S. (2011) “Cocreation is chaotic: What it means for marketing when no one has control,” Marketing Theory, 11: 325–350. Foucault, M. (1982) “The subject and power,” Critical Inquiry, 8: 777–795.

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Deeper insight into audiences and artists Gadamer, H.-G. (1989) Truth and method, London: Sheed and Ward. Gadamer, H.-G. (1974) What is philosophical hermeneutics? Toronto, ON: OISE. Geertz, C. (1988) Works and lives: The anthropologist as author, Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Goffman, E. (1959) The presentation of self in everyday life, Garden City, NY: Doubleday. Handler, R. (1986) “Authenticity,” Anthropology Today, 2: 2–4. Hayano, D. (1979) “Auto-ethnography: Paradigms, problems, and prospects,” Human Organization, 38: 99–104. Holbrook, M.B. (2005) “Customer value and autoethnography: Subjective personal introspection and the meanings of a photograph collection,” Journal of Business Research, 58: 45–61. Jameson, F. (1991) Postmodernism, or, the cultural logic of late capitalism, Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Joyce, J. (1963) Stephen Hero, New York: New Directions. Keys, K. (2003) “Searching for community pedagogy,” unpublished thesis, Ohio State University. Kozinets, R.V. and Belk, R.W. (2006) “Camcorder society: Quality videography,” in R. Belk (ed.) Handbook of qualitative methods in marketing, Cheltenham: Edward Elgar. Lacy, S. (1995) “Debated territory: Toward a critical language for public art,” in S. Lacy (ed.) Mapping the terrain, Seattle, WA: Bay Press. Lyotard, J.-F. (1984) The postmodern condition: A report on knowledge, Manchester: Manchester University Press. McAdams, D.P. (1993) The stories we live by: Personal myths and the making of the self, New York: William C. Morrow. McCormick (2011) “18 Advantages of visual auto-ethnography for research,” http://cmactivist.blogspot. ca/2011/11/18-advantages-of-visual-auto.html (accessed 15 December 2012). McIlveen, P. (2008) “Autoethnography as a method for reflexive research and practice in vocational psychology,” Australian Journal of Career Development, 17: 13–20. Mereness, K. (2008) “Autoethnography of paint talks: Questioning the beautiful collision between visual communication and fundamentalist Christian churches,” unpublished thesis, Texas Tech University. Miles, M. (1997) “The contradictions of public art,” in M. Miles (ed.) Art, space and the city, London: Routledge. Neuman, W.L. (1994) Social research methods: Qualitative and quantitative approaches, Needham Heights, MA: Allyn and Bacon. Olson, J.L. (1998) “Chapter 5,” in J. Simpson (ed.) Creating meaning through art: Teacher as choicemaker, Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall. Pace, S. (2012) “Writing the self into research: Using grounded theory analytic strategies in autoethnography,” Text: Journal of Writing and Writing Courses, 13: 1–15. Pine, J.B., II, and Gilmore, J.H. (1999) The experience economy: Work is theatre and every business a stage, Boston, MA: Harvard Business School Press. Prahalad, C.K. and Ramaswamy, V. (2000) “Co-opting customer competence,” Harvard Business Review, 78: 79–88. Pratt, M.L. (1992) Imperial eyes: Travel writing and transculturation, New York: Routledge. Radcliffe-Brown, A.R. (1957) A natural science of society, Glencoe, IL: Free Press. Ramsey White, T., Hede, A.-M., and Rentschler, R. (2009) “Lessons from arts experiences for servicedominant logic,” Marketing Intelligence & Planning, 27: 775–788. Reed-Danahay, D.E. (ed.) (1997) Auto/ethnography: Rewriting the self and the social, London: Berg Publishers. Richardson, L. (1992) “The consequences of poetic representation: Writing the other, rewriting the self,” in C. Ellis and M.G. Flaherty (eds) Investigating subjectivity, Newbury Park, CA: Sage. Richardson, L. (1990) “Narrative and sociology,” Journal of Contemporary Ethnography, 19: 116–135. Ruby, J. (1977) “The image mirrored: Reflexivity and the documentary film,” Journal of University Film Association, 29: 3–18. Russell, C. (1999) “Autoethnography: Journeys of the self,” in C. Russell (ed.) Experimental ethnography: The work of film in the age of video, Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Sarbin, T. (1986) “The narrative as a root metaphor for psychology,” in T. Sarbin (ed.) Narrative psychology: The storied nature of human conduct, New York: Praeger. Smith, H. and Dean, R.T. (eds) (2009) Practice-led research, research-led practice in the creative arts, Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Springgay, S. (2002) “Arts-based research as an uncertain text,” Alberta Journal of Educational Research, 45: 1–30.

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Marta Massi and Paul Harrison Stam, R. (1985) Reflexivity in film and literature: From Don Quixote to Jean-Luc Godard, Ann Arbor, MI: UMI Research Press. Stewart, R. (2003) “(Re)inventing artists’ research: Constructing living forms of theory,” Text, 7: 99–104. Tedlock, B. (2007) “The observation of participation and the emergence of public ethnography,” in N.K. Denzin and Y.S. Lincoln (eds) Handbook of qualitative research, Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Vargo, S.L. and Lusch, R.F. (2004) “Evolving to a new dominant logic for marketing,” Journal of Marketing, 68: 1–17. Vom Lehn, D., Heath, C., and Hindmarsh, J. (2001) “Exhibiting interaction: Conduct and collaboration in museums and galleries,” Symbolic Interaction, 24: 189–216. Wall, S. (2006) “An autoethnography on learning about autoethnography,” International Journal of Qualitative Methods, 5: 146–160.

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PART V

The marketing of specific arts

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25 THE BOOKS BUSINESS Fifty shades of grief Stephen Brown

The cult American novelist David Foster Wallace, whose A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again is a must-read for any aspiring marketer, once stated that his favourite word in the English language was “moist”. He was especially fond of it, what’s more, when used in conjunction with his second-favourite word: “loincloth”. Although David Foster Wallace is no longer with us (Max 2012), his favoured combination is rampant in the industry he formerly adorned. Moist loincloths are everywhere in the books business right now. But not in a good way. Today’s epidemic of damp underwear is a consequence of the Fifty Shades of Grey phenomenon, which has precipitated an outbreak of stress-induced incontinence. Here’s why …

Page-turner For those of you who’ve been living in a cave – or, come to think of it, a BDSM dungeon – I should perhaps explain that Fifty Shades of Grey is the biggest thing in books since Bridget Jones’s Diary (Hoyle 2012). It’s bigger than Dan Brown, bigger than Stieg Larsson, bigger than J.K. Rowling in her Potter-pimping prime.1 Popularly known as “mummy porn”, Fifty Shades of Grey is an eye-popping, bodice-ripping, erotic fantasy featuring steamy scenes of subjugation, humiliation and spanking. A rebooted Tom Brown’s Schooldays, basically, with extra lashings of lashing. So far, so Story of OMG. But here’s the thing, Fifty Shades has tickled the fancy of female readers worldwide.2 It has sold 65 million copies thus far. It has been translated into 37 languages and counting. It has spawned two equally successful sequels, Fifty Shades Darker and Fifty Shades Freed. It has stimulated a saturnalia of copy-cats, rip-offs and orgiastic parodies, such as the bestselling Fifty Sheds of Grey for frolicsome gardeners with tumescent tubers. It has given rise to all sorts of tie-in merchandise: music, apparel, jewellery, scents, sex toys, bed linen, package tours to the Heathman Hotel in Seattle, where most of the whip-cracking love action takes place and, presumably, a natty line in handcuffs, shackles, bondage gear-cum-butt plugs, et cetera (Ahmed 2011).3 It has been chastised by elitist literary critics and the post-feminist phalanx alike, who object to its misrepresentation of twenty-first-century womanhood. It has been banned by cleanliving, God-fearing, family-friendly public libraries in the buckle of the Bible Belt, even though belts are integral to the action. Meanwhile, its tie-me-up-tie-me-down author, E.L. James, is

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laughing all the way to La-La Land, where her whip-smart work of art has been snapped up by Universal Pictures. It will be coming soon, as it were, to a 3D-equipped auditorium near you.

Must-read Although some marketers may regard the Fifty Shades trilogy as a belated rebuke to Ted Levitt’s (1960) pre-posthumous contention that buggy whips are history, the volumes speak volumes about the state of the bookselling business and the myopia of marketing therein. Fifty Shades, first and foremost, was self-published. The industry had nothing whatsoever to do with its initial success, though it was quick to jump on an already moving bandwagon. The trilogy, second, began as a work of fan fiction – one among many amateur tributes to Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight series (Buchanan-Oliver and Schau 2013) – which publishers by and large regard as the noisome domain of losers, illiterates and intellectual property pirates. Third, and perhaps most significantly, the Fifty Shades phenomenon is intimately associated with the recent rapid rise of the e-reader, which represents a step-change for the sector (Hepworth 2010; Wilkinson 2011). Apart from the obvious benefit of allowing coy consumers of mummy porn to partake behind the privacy-guaranteed plastic of their Kindles, Kobos, Nooks and analogous hand-held devices, e-readers are to traditional publishing houses what the iceberg was to the Titanic. For the best part of a decade the industry has been dismissive about the allegedly impending e-book revolution (Brown 2006), but Fifty Shades shows that the future is, if not entirely digital, as near to digital as makes no difference. Fifty Shades, then, has not only stimulated the sales of sex accessories, jiggle balls above all, but it has given publishers food for thought. The elitist opprobrium that has been heaped on E.L. James’s hanky-panky masterpiece – master-and-slave piece, rather – should really have been directed at the books business, whose alarming lack of creativity it so dramatically exposed. Despite the recent rationalization of the sector; despite the growth of professionally managed conglomerates; despite the mounting influence of publishers’ marketing departments; despite the widespread availability of real-time sales tracking technologies; despite the emergence of brandname authors, whose reader appeal is exploited assiduously; despite consumers’ ever-increasing demand for books of all sorts – it’s a myth that reading, in the round, is declining – the publishing industry is losing the plot, literally as well as figuratively. Plenty of excellent marketing goes on, I grant you, but it is no longer found in Grub Street.

Unputdownable The book trade, in fairness, has been going through a torrid time. As Thompson (2010) explains in his outstanding analysis of publishing’s travails, our “merchants of culture” are being buffeted by several secular trends that vary in their severity but are very serious when combined.4 Consider, for example, the latter-day growth of retail chains, like Waterstones, Barnes & Noble and, especially, the major supermarkets, which have moved into books in a big way. With their prodigious buying power and negotiating nous, they have collectively squeezed publishers’ margins, demanded up-front payments for in-store support and inculcated a hit-driven mentality, whereby editorial risk taking has been reduced in favour of follow-the-leader, track-the-latesttrend, timidity. The upshot is an unending outpouring of me-too celebrity cookbooks, autobiographies, diet-and-exercise regimens, and ghosted works of genre fiction. Traditional terms of trade have been obliterated, as have the “gentlemen’s agreements” that formerly prevailed (Economist 2011). Nowhere was the new world order better illustrated than in Asda’s pulverizing

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decision to sell the final Harry Potter for a fiver, when the list price was £17.99. Independent bookstores couldn’t compete. Many either refused to handle the Rowling blockbuster or sourced their copies from the price-slashing supermarkets, much to the chagrin of wholesalers and other channel partners. Another closely related trend is the reciprocal emergence of colossal publishing houses. As believers in Galbraith’s (1952) countervailing power thesis well know, the advent of a heavy hitter at one wing of an industry gives rise to an equal and opposite counterweight at the other. Thus the ascent of the chains, in the aftermath of the abandonment of Resale Price Maintenance, has been accompanied by commensurate consolidation among the giants of the publishing world.5 Waves of mergers and acquisitions have left a literary landscape dominated by half-adozen huge conglomerates made up of multiple venerable imprints, whose back offices, sales forces and distribution arrangements are more streamlined and seamless than before (Thompson 2010). Professionally managed and performance-driven, they have the necessary muscle to negotiate with the chains, in theory at least. The main movers and shakers are Random House, Penguin, Hachette, HarperCollins, Holtzbrinck and Simon & Schuster, though the first two have recently merged to form the biggest book behemoth on earth (Neate and Sweney 2012). Look on my Jamie Olivers, ye mighty, and despair.

No holds barred Less obvious to outside observers, yet no less significant as secular publishing trends go, is the inexorable rise of the literary agent. Once regarded as parasitic, now a necessary evil, nothing moves in trade publishing without agent approval. They are the ghosts in the machine, pretty scary ghosts in some cases. Andrew “the jackal” Wylie and his brutish brethren have bid up authors’ advances to mind-boggling levels. Big brand name authors, such as Stephen King, Patricia Cornwell, James Patterson, Danielle Steel and Lee Child, can effectively name their price, since they represent guaranteed sales in unpredictable markets. As a consequence, publishers are making bigger and bigger bets, with bigger and bigger promotional budgets, on a smaller and smaller roster of star authors (Sutherland 2007). The upshot is that stolid, mid-list performers and emerging, embryonic talent is treated with less tolerance than before. Up-or-out, sink-or-swim and devil-take-the-hindmost are the orders of the day in trade publishing’s hit-driven, hero-or-zero, bestseller-or-bust, winner-takes-all dispensation.6 A final factor, which compounds and complements the first, is the pest from the west coast. That is, Amazon.com and its attendant Kindle culture (Wood 2012). From ignominious origins in Jeff Bezos’s mother’s garage in the suburbs of Seattle, Amazon has grown into a globebestriding, competitor-devouring e-tailing leviathan. It began in the books business, expanded into music and video and clothing and electrical equipment and sports gear and, in keeping with the classic wheel of retailing theory, currently comprises an all-purpose platform for all sorts of products and services, everything from cat food and children’s wear to cloud computing and credit cards. With regard to its core business, though, Kindle Direct Publishing is perhaps Amazon’s most disruptive development. KDP and its print-on-demand counterpart CreateSpace, has simultaneously banished the stigma of self-publishing and opened the door to innumerable wannabe writers whose works of fiction, poetry, photography, family history, off-beat humour, how-to, self-help and so forth would otherwise languish on the muchderided slush piles of literary agencies and publishing houses. KDP’s canny pricing options, which return a high proportion of the revenue to authors while retaining a bargain-basement,

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customer-attracting headline price, also represent a far-reaching revolution in embryo (see below).

Thrill-a-minute The books business, clearly, is in a parlous position, albeit at a time when more books than ever are being published and read. True, the difficulties differ from sector to sector; those facing educational and scholarly publishing are quite different from the pressures squeezing trade. But many are convinced that the current structure of the industry, with its big conglomerates, big booksellers, big agents negotiating big advances for big authors, is liable to be swept away in its entirety. Some suspect that the future is Apple (rather than Orange), as enhanced app features transform the economics of publication and the reading experience for today’s tablet-swallowing, high-tech society ( Jopson and Edgecliffe-Johnson 2012). Others look to low-tech, essentially pre-modern, models of publishing – Unbound, for example – which is predicated on once-popular customer subscriptions, insofar as individual proposals are funded on a book-by-book basis by crowd-sourced donations (Brooks 2012). Yet others, perhaps the majority, presume that Amazon will simply swallow the existing system whole. Bezos’s bookselling behemoth has already established several in-house imprints, such as Montlake Romance and 47 North; it is working with selected authors, including marketing’s own Seth Godin, to issue genre-transforming titles; its revenue-sharing arrangements in KDP, if suitably renegotiated, might well appeal to entrepreneurially inclined brand name authors ( James Patterson springs immediately to mind); and its proprietary tablet is not only a match for any extant iPlatform but is being sold for a song at present (Waters and Nuttall 2011). Good old-fashioned penetration pricing is selling Kindle Fires like wildfire and burning down publishing houses to boot. A conflagration of conglomerates is unlikely in the short term, admittedly. Ten years hence, however, the book business might look very different indeed. A decade ago, let’s not forget, the Borders, the Waterstones, the Barnes & Nobles, the Ottakers of this world were sweeping all before them with their vast selections, attractive atmospherics, pause-a-while welcomes and plentiful promotional offers of the three-for-two kind. Unable to compete with this comfy-sofa, caffeine-accompanied onslaught, many pokey, pricey, poorly stocked, unprofessionally managed independents fell by the wayside, like autumn leaves.7 Today, though, the bookworm has turned ( Jopson 2011). The chains are in trouble. Borders is no more. Barnes & Noble is struggling. Ottakers is so over. Waterstones is looking the worse for wear despite the much-vaunted determination of its new CEO, James Daunt, to turn Britain’s bookselling supertanker around (Kellaway 2011). Pummelled on price by plum-picking supermarkets, surpassed on selection-cum-convenience by Amazilla, and surrounded by boarded-up shops in Britain’s windswept, rain-lashed, rubbish-strewn city centres, the appeal of chain bookstores is diminishing by the day. Ten years from now, who knows where Waterstones and their once imperious imitators will be. Leaner meaner independents, ironically, might move into the gap with carefully targeted, experientially oriented, customer service committed offers. What goes around …

Roller-coaster ride But what does all this mean for you and me? It’s good news, in the main, because marketing will become even more important in years to come. Marketing, admittedly, has always been hugely

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important in the books business, notwithstanding the disdain the industry often reserves for commerce, till fumbling and so forth (Brown 2006). From hustling publishers like Horace Liveright, Allen Lane and Andre Deutsch, through enterprising agents like A.P. Watt, J.B. Pinker and Morton L. Janklow, to self-publicizing, sales-savvy authors like Charles Dickens, Mark Twain and Edgar Rice Burroughs, the sector has never wanted for merchandise movers and shakers.Yes, the word “marketing” is often employed pejoratively, as a synonym for the unimaginative, bureaucratic, focus-grouped philistinism that goes hand-in-hand with professional management and the corporate worldview. But buying, selling, bartering, cajoling, hyping, horse trading, negotiating, auctioneering, wheeling-dealing and what have you are found at every level and at every stage of the book publication process (Caves 2000). Authors sell their wares to agents, agents sell to editors, editors sell to publishers, sales forces, acquisitions committees, publicity people et al., who sell in turn to wholesalers, distributors, book clubs, libraries and retailers big and small, as well as critics, columnists, bloggers, book reviewers and, ultimately, the long-suffering consumer. As J.G. Ballard observed many years ago, any fool can write a novel but it takes real genius to sell it.8 Persistence helps too. When this chain of selling is examined in detail, however, two important aspects stand out. The first is that commissioning editors are marketers in all but name. Traditionally regarded as high-minded gatekeepers of the literary flame – the patricians of publishing who pour scorn on plebeian, money-minded types – editors are Willy Lomans one and all. If not exactly way out there in the blue riding on a smile and a shoeshine they are more than capable of hosting a bibulous, back-scratching, mutually beneficial luncheon for their commissioning cronies. As Thompson (2010: 202) explains, “the editor is, fundamentally, a salesperson within his or her own organization. An editor who wants to buy a book has to be able to sell it to others within the organization – not just his or her immediate boss, the publisher, but also to sales, marketing and publicity staff. They have to be able to persuade others that this is a book worth doing and that they should get behind it.” The second key point is that the ultimate consumer – the book buyer, the eager reader – rarely enters into the equation. Publishing houses primarily sell to other intermediaries in the channels of book distribution. Their cloistered world has no real place for living, breathing readers and this helps explain the industry’s condescending attitude toward the great unwashed. From literary agents’ perennially derogatory remarks about unsolicited submissions of god-awful manuscripts (they seem to forget that book writers are readers too, massively so), through editors’ refusal to return the calls of authors whose “track” has taken a turn for the worse (through no fault of their own) to the sales associates in destination retail stores who make mock of the mouth-breathing imbeciles who darken their doors (and have the temerity to ask for Katie Price’s latest bestseller), publishing remains production rather than marketing oriented.9 The customer is not king in the book business as it stands: Between the hours of 2 and 4 p.m., I had precisely one customer. I should qualify that. Customer suggests that there was even the remote possibility of him buying something, but he was really just keeping out of the rain. He entered the shop, did a few circuits, and left. He did not make eye contact. Alison had suggested that I should try to be more welcoming and perhaps offer customers a cup of coffee and engage them in conversation. But … small talk has never been my forte. I can talk about books forever, I can guide you to precisely the right volume despite only having known you for a few minutes, but I need an opening, an in. I have a horror of shops where sales assistants put you under pressure to buy with

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Box 25.1 Half man, half biscuit “It’s the prince of biscuits really, isn’t it? The custard cream.” Oliver Sweeny, aesthete, gourmand, bon viveur, had assumed his mid-morning tea-break position – sprawled in his chair, feet on the desk, mug in fist … “Isn’t that the Garibaldi?” I asked. “No, no, no.” He glared at me. “You’re getting mixed up with the, er … with Machiavelli. No, none of your foreign muck here …” He paused while his inky fingers stabbed again at the packaging. “No, there’s no doubt, the custard cream has it all: fine texture, nice filling, not too sweet, holds together in a tight spot, but at the same time not afraid to show its feminine side.” “Sounds more like my uncle Toby,” I said. “By the way, what’s your position on the Jacobs’ Mikado?” “Ah, now.” Oliver set down his mug and clasped his hands together under his fleshy chin, making a steeple of his index fingers. “Essentially a satirist. Walks the line between biscuit and sex toy.” “Yes, I’ve always considered it a bit of a tease myself.” I was warming to the topic. “Give me the firm handshake of a chocolate digestive any day.” “Or the iron fist of the gingernut.” We ate and sipped in meditative silence. We were in no hurry. Large expanses of our working day often passed in this way. “I have to say,” Oliver continued. “I’m quite partial to a Hobnob, although they can be a bit hairy without a cup of tea.” “Aren’t they just digestives with a bit of rope mixed in?” “Well, they have a certain rustic charm … I’m not sure about rope.” “No, no, Gypsy Creams have rustic charm – you can see it in the adverts – Hobnobs are just agricultural … like being taken roughly by a farmhand with eyebrows on his cheeks. They should have put a bit of chocolate on them.” “Actually, I believe they have brought out a chocolate version.” “Oh yes?” “You know two items whose credentials I view with suspicion? The Jaffa Cake and the Wagon Wheel, and here’s why …” Source: K. Smith (2012: 7–9).

their obsequious wheedling and hand-wringing and their, “Is there anything I can help you with today, sir?” Mother, when she worked the till, didn’t have my reticence, and while I didn’t condone her lamentable attempts at customer relations, I at least understood them. She had once cried: “Either buy the book or get the fuck out,” to a customer. The tearful child, searching for a birthday present for her father, was absolutely distraught. The father

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came raging into the store after Mother had finished her shift and would have decked me if I hadn’t suffered a timely epileptic fit. (Bateman 2012: 60)

Rollicking good read Exaggerated for comic effect though it is, the foregoing quote contains a kernel of truth about the books business as a whole. It is little wonder that supermarkets are seizing market share with their pile-it-high-sell-it-cheap ethos and why Amazon, with its solicitous welcomes, personalized recommendations, no-quibble customer services and year-round 24/7 opening hours, is more congenial for the average consumer than a frustrating trip to the (not so) friendly, (so not) neighbourhood city centre chain store. Few consumers, I imagine, will weep bitter tears when the conglomerated giants of publishing tumble into the cruel sea. As per the shark-infested waters of the music business, few consumers will suffer pre-download pangs of conscience when pirated editions of bestsellers become available (Cooper and Gillespie 2012; Mansey and Chittenden 2011). E-books, for example, are widely seen as a scandalous rip off – self-published titles excepted – and until such times as e-books are appealingly priced, relative to printed editions, many consumers will regard publishing houses as rapacious, price-gouging, sons of bitches. With good reason, it has to be said.10 This turmoil is good for marketing, though. Perhaps not Kotlerite corporate marketing involving five-year plans, strategic scenario planning, systematic test market trials and so on. But small-scale, fleet-footed, quirky and creative marketing. Authorpreneurial marketing, if you will. As Brown (2006: 9) observed some years ago: The tools and techniques of marketing are ideally suited to a situation where supply exceeds demand, inter- and intra-type competition is getting ever-fiercer, channels of distribution are in a state of flux, innumerable identikit products vie for consumers’ attention, buzz building promotional tactics are par for the course and the old rules of doing business, such as price controls and gentlemanly carve-ups of territories are going the way of MG Rover. This statement is as true today as it was a while back. If anything, the continuing disintegration of the publishing industry is increasing the need for marketing. More and more authors are being left to their own promotional devices. They are expected to start blogs, open Twitter accounts, set up dedicated websites and spend serious face time on Facebook. They are required to sell, sell, sell their wares on book tours, at literary festivals and in any church hall, comedy venue or community centre that will have them – in order to drum up reader interest and, ideally, make a sale or three. Just as budding rock bands are building own brands like nobody’s business, so too wannabe bestselling authors are getting ever-closer to their customers, whether they want to or not. This marketing turn is most strongly marked among the self-published multitudes, who either build buzz around their books or languish at the extremities of Amazon’s long tail, alongside yours truly. Authors can’t afford to hide their light under a bookish bushel nowadays. Making the sale is as important as telling the tale. Although marketing may not be everything in publishing, it’s everywhere … for everyone … for evermore …

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I laughed, I cried, I climaxed Having said that, it remains to be seen whether book marketing will live happily ever after. Mainstream marketing, the principles of which have been hammered into us for decades by the Analysis, Planning, Implementation and Control contingent, is not the way forward. Despite the claims of academic imperialists, who maintain that marketing concepts are universally applicable, APIC is unsuited to books (and the cultural industries generally). Just as the late great Steve Jobs had no time for formal marketing at Apple, and just as Larry Page and Sergey Brin find conventional marketing stifling in the Googleplex, so too the Kotlers, Kellers, Jobbers and Co. are not the best guidebooks for book marketers. They’d be better off looking to the history of the publishing industry, which has no shortage of marketing role models. Many leading novelists, including Peter Carey, Clive Cussler, Mary Higgins Clark, Tom Clancy, Joseph Heller, James Herbert, Arthur Hailey, Salman Rushdie, Dr Seuss, Dorothy L. Sayers and Fay Weldon, turned their backgrounds in sales/advertising/marketing to good bookselling account (Brown 2010). Many bestselling authors are blessed, moreover, with natural marketing flair, which they have lavished on their own literary endeavours and moved the merchandise thereby. J.K. Rowling, for example, may not possess an MA in Marketing but she’s a master of the slick sell. From the very start of her literary career, she’s played the book-buying public like a euphonium. Rowling’s marketing strategy, admittedly, runs completely counter to that enshrined in conventional textbooks. Yet even in the aftermath of Harry Potter mania she’s still raking it in with her custom-built website, Pottermore, which is a fantastic fantasy front for the nitty-gritty business of selling e-books hand over fist. The tie-in theme parks too are a licence to print money. Literally, because you can buy the Harry Potter currency of galleons, sickles and knuts to spend in the souvenir shops – the replica magic wand shop in particular (Brown 2013). I bet she’s regretting the absence of “old rope” in the novels, because she could have made quite a lot of money from that. No doubt her next marketing ploy, now that she’s the author of an adult bestseller (The Casual Vacancy), will be a joint venture with E.L. James entitled Fifty Shades of Griffindor. You read it here first. Bondage with broomsticks is fun for all the family, I’m sure you agree, but there’s a serious issue as well. The authorpreneurial approach to marketing that Rowling epitomizes is pertinent to many other sectors, domains far removed from fast-moving cultural goods. Works of literature, as I have noted elsewhere, often provide insights that conventional marketing research cannot (consider Box 25.1, which comprises one author’s brilliantly imaginative take on the “personification game” that features in many ho-hum focus groups). More than that, though, creative writers often have a better sense of things to come than marketing’s number-crunching visionaries (Miller 2011). Citing the premonitory publications of H.G. Wells, Franz Kafka, George Orwell, Tom Clancy and Hergé’s Adventures of Tintin, a Financial Times reporter concludes: People of action are much worse at scenario planning than writers of fiction. Soldiers, bureaucrats and corporate executives are schooled in dealing with things that actually exist, and to do so by carrying out other people’s policies. Despite what the business books say, thinking outside the box rarely wins you promotions. As for politicians, they succeed by knowing what voters want, not by thinking up something new. They often get castigated for their lack of “vision”, but that’s in the job description: politicians are thought followers. If they were thought leaders, they’d never get elected …

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People of action generally ignore writers of fiction, yet it’s the writers who are better at seeing the future. Perhaps we should take their visions more seriously. (Kuper 2011: 7) Perhaps marketers should too. David Foster Wallace, may I remind you, was right about moist loincloths. I’m wearing one as I write …

Notes 1 In terms of total sales, admittedly, Fifty Shades pales by comparison with Potter. Speed-wise, though, it’s a far faster seller than the boy wizard on his Firebolt. 2 Although the readership of Fifty Shades isn’t exclusively female, studies show that the audience for romantic fiction – from frothy chick-lit to the raunchy output of Black Lace and Silhouette – is overwhelmingly made up of women (Radway 1987). 3 The only thing that’s missing is a co-marketing arrangement with a leading brand of condiments. Fifty Shades of Grey Poupon definitely has a ring to it. 4 In this chapter, I’ll be focusing on trade publishing, which comprises fiction and non-fiction written for general audiences. There are many other sectors and sub-sectors, each with their own practices and pressures (see Thompson 2005). But trade is what most people think about when they think about the books business. 5 This gigantism, mind you, has also created conditions conducive to the emergence of small publishing houses, such as Canongate and Serpent’s Tail, which are fleeter of foot and less risk-averse than the conglomerates. The industry is increasingly polarized, with a small number of large publishers and a large number of small. What the latter lack in heft they compensate for with creativity (Brown 2006). 6 This state of affairs, as you can imagine, is very disheartening for ambitious authors with offbeat ideas. Anything that doesn’t fit into established templates, or follows the latest trend, finds it hard to get traction. The lack of imagination that obtains within conventional publishing is exemplified by the recent flood of non-fiction titles with an “onomics” suffix. Levitt and Dubner’s bestselling Freakonomics has a lot to answer for. 7 Pardon my metaphor! However, I suspect that purple prose lovers are gagging for florid figures of speech about now. Meanwhile the pedants among you are huffing and puffing that “like autumn leaves” is a simile not a metaphor. There’s something for everyone, gentle reader, something for everyone … 8 J.G. Ballard, of course, knew whereof he spoke. He was a door-to-door encyclopaedia salesman before he got into the publishing game. 9 Thirty years ago, the editor of Doubleday reported that only three or four of the 10,000 submissions received annually “over the transom” were accepted (Coser et al. 1982). Most publishing houses nowadays refuse to handle unsolicited manuscripts. Some are outsourcing/crowdsourcing the slush-pile – HarperCollins’ Authonomy, for instance – but a condescending attitude toward the great unpublished is widespread throughout the industry (read Newman and Mittelmark (2009) for a fuller flavour). 10 The e-books issued by major publishing houses are indeed a rip-off. Many are priced at, or fractionally below, the recommended prices of the hardback editions (Edgecliffe-Johnson 2012). Price collusion among powerful publishers is not unknown either, as recent court cases bear witness (Page and Phillips 2011).

References Ahmed, M. (2011) “For your eyes only: how hidden desires are driving sales of romantic e-books”, The Times, January 1: 31. Bateman, C. (2012) The Prisoner of Brenda: Curses, Nurses and a Ticket to Bedlam, London: Headline. Brooks, R. (2012) “Chapter 1 … reader, you fund the rest”, The Sunday Times, May 27: 13. Brown, S. (2006) “Rattles from the swill bucket”, in S. Brown (ed.) Consuming Books: The Marketing and Consumption of Literature, London: Routledge, 1–17. Brown, S. (2010) “And then we come to the brand: academic lessons from international bestsellers”, Arts Marketing: An International Journal, 1 (1): 70–86.

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Brown, S. (2013) “The devil has all the best brands: raising hell in a house of horrors”, in D. Rinallo, L. Scott and P. Maclaran (eds.) Consumption and Spirituality, London: Routledge, 94–105. Buchanan-Oliver, M. and Schau, H.J. (2013) “Consuming spirituality and the spirituality of consuming media narratives: why vampirism, why Twilight, why now?” in D. Rinallo, L. Scott and P. Maclaran (eds.) Consumption and Spirituality, London: Routledge, 81–93. Caves, R.E. (2000) Creative Industries: Contracts Between Art and Culture, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Cooper, K. and Gillespie, J. (2012) “Ebooks cost third more than hardbacks”, The Sunday Times, September 30: 9. Coser, L.A., Kadushin, C. and Powell,W.W. (1982) Books: The Culture and Commerce of Publishing, New York: Basic Books. Economist (2011) “The books business: great digital expectations”, The Economist, September 10: 65–66. Edgecliffe-Johnson, A. (2012) “Pricing of ebooks presents novel dilemma”, Financial Times, April 14: 15. Galbraith, J.K. (1952) American Capitalism: The Concept of Countervailing Power, Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin. Hepworth, D. (2010) “Brave new world or heart of darkness?”, Word Magazine, December: 66–68. Hoyle, B. (2012) “Publishers get hot and bothered about sex as sales of erotic books soar”, The Times, June 16: 7. Jopson, B. (2011) “Borders collapse signals a new chapter”, Financial Times, July 24: 15. Jopson, B. and Edgecliffe-Johnson, A. (2012) “The bookworm turns”, Financial Times, May 5: 9. Kellaway, K. (2011) “I don’t recognise that books are dead”, The Observer, June 6: 39. Kuper, S. (2011) “Why writers can see the future”, Financial Times Magazine, April 2: 7. Levitt, T. (1960) “Marketing myopia”, Harvard Business Review, 38 (4): 45–56. Mansey, K. and Chittenden, M. (2011) “Pirates publish first in ebook war”, The Sunday Times, April 17: 17. Max, D.T. (2012) Every Love Story is a Ghost Story: A Life of David Foster Wallace, London: Granta. Miller, L. (2011) “The frivolous now: how novels came to terms with the internet”, The Guardian, January 15: 2–4. Neate, R. and Sweney, M. (2012) “Penguin and Random House hold merger talks”, The Guardian, October 26: 28. Newman, S. and Mittelmark, H. (2009) How Not to Write a Novel, London: Penguin. Page, B. and Phillips, L. (2011) “Publishers raided over ebook price fixing suspicions”, The Guardian, March 5: 8. Radway, J.A. (1987) Reading the Romance: Women, Patriarchy, and Popular Culture, London:Verso. Smith, K. (2012) Jammy Dodger: A Novel, Dingwall: Sandstone Press. Sutherland, J. (2007) Bestsellers: A Very Short Introduction, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Thompson, J.B. (2005) Books in the Digital Age: The Transformation of Academic and Higher Education Publishing in Britain and the United States, Cambridge: Polity. Thompson, J.B. (2010) Merchants of Culture: The Publishing Business in the Twenty-first Century, Cambridge: Polity. Waters, R. and Nuttall, C. (2011) “Amazon breathes Fire into the tablet market”, Financial Times, October 2: 15. Wilkinson, C. (2011) “Light reading”, Financial Times, August 13: 10. Wood, Z. (2012) “Publishers and booksellers live in fear of Amazon’s ‘ruthless moneymaking devil’”, The Guardian, April 6: 31.

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26 FILM MARKETING Finola Kerrigan, Andrew Hart and Sumanta Barua

Where it all began The film marketing landscape has changed significantly over the past 15 years. Similarly, academic research on film marketing has followed these changes. In common with wider trends in the marketing and consumption field, predominantly facilitated by the development of Web 2.0, film marketing is in a process of shifting from traditional new product development to new forms of engagement with consumers. In doing so, film marketers can embrace the power of the crowd, both in funding and developing film, to aiming for the spreadability that Jenkins et al. (2013) signal is the (near) future for producers of cultural or entertainment products, such as film. Therefore it is timely to consider where we stand in relation to current academic research on film marketing and consumption. Before we move on, it is important to consider what exactly we mean by the term film marketing. Durie et al. (2000: 5) defined film marketing as “any activity that assists a film in reaching its target audience at any time throughout its life.” This broad definition implies that film marketing encompasses a range of activities, and as noted by Kerrigan (2010: 9) “begins at the new product development stage and continues through the formation of the project ideas, through production and into distribution and exhibition.” Therefore, it is necessary to consider the key stakeholders at each of these stages, as well as to acknowledge, as Kerrigan and Yalkin (2009) did, that film marketing as a research area should not stop at the exhibition stage, but must consider value creation and recreation activities that take place for and between consumers before, during and after film consumption. It is not surprising that the largest body of literature in the area of film marketing and consumption emanates from attempts to understand why we choose to watch the films that we do. Attempts to understand what drives film consumption date back to the early 1900s and the foundations of the film industry. Jowett (1985: 19–36) provides an informative review of film audience research in the early twentieth century. He observed that the film industry, during the period of its greatest influence, surprisingly operated with such little research of its market. It was not until the mid-1950s that the industry began to employ economics, strategy and marketing into their audience research methods. Such methods may facilitate decision making and improve the success rate of films, since the slightest failure could incur tremendous financial repercussions. As a result, predicting the success (or failure) of films in the marketplace has become paramount. Studies on predicting success are linked to the concept of marketability which O’Reilly and Kerrigan (2013) refer to as the level of attractiveness of a film to its prospective audience. Marketability refers to the selection phase of a film by the prospective audience and

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film production and distribution companies as well as film exhibitors that will also consider marketing ability in deciding to back, distribute or exhibit a film.The concept of marketability clearly underpins much of the research on film marketing that was produced through the last three or four decades. The remainder of the research on film marketing generally considers the notion of playability, which signifies how well the audience will respond to the film once they commit to watching it (O’Reilly and Kerrigan 2013). The following section summarizes these areas of research, based on the framework of the film marketing mix as outlined by Kerrigan (2010).

The star The role of actors or more specifically the star performer is considered a significant factor when analysing the performance of films at the box-office. Bill Mechanic, former CEO of 20th Century Fox, argues that stars differ from the much larger group of well-known actors based on monetary impact. He states, “[Sharon Stone] is a celebrity, she has a big name and that helps sometimes … but she is not necessarily a box-office star. If Tom Cruise appears in a movie … then it becomes a huge success. That is a real star” (quoted in Hennig-Thurau et al. 2001: 9). According to Hennig-Thurau et al. (2001: 9–10) the star’s presence serves as a branding function and represents an important ingredient of the film, as they create a personal monopoly through cultivating a certain image, thus reducing consumer uncertainty. Several researchers have studied the effect of star power. Most studies consider star power as one of many contributing factors to success with box-office performance as the dependent variable. The results are diverse; Litman (1983) and Austin (1989) in their research did not detect a relationship between talent involvement and box-office revenues. Yet, other researchers (Litman and Kohl 1989; Wallace et al. 1993; Sochay 1994; Sawhney and Eliashberg 1996; Elberse and Eliashberg 2003) have found evidence that a film’s opening week and weekly revenues increase with the status of the star performer. Albert (1998: 251) states that “stars are important … because they are the least noisy and most consistent marker for successful film types. And because of this they have not only drawing power, but also ‘marking power’.” Here, Albert empirically proves that star performers serve as the most consistent “markers” of films, signifying their overall power in Hollywood. Alternatively, Ravid (1999) found no correlation between star involvement and film revenues or profitability, which is consistent with the view that a star’s additional costs diminish the profitability of a film. Conflicting research suggests it is difficult to decide whether the star of the film impacts upon the film’s performance, and more research is needed to resolve this debate. Hennig-Thurau et al. (2001: 10) argue the results are somewhat limited as there is a need to differentiate the impact of stars on box-office revenues with regard to the film’s genre and the degree of “typecasting” (the similarity of the star’s role with his or her previous films). However, what seems to be a popular consensus is that actors provide a point of reference for consumers when choosing particular films. Similarly, if the actor is unknown, consumers can use other creative cues.

Creative team Successful films are the outcome of the work of numerous individuals.Therefore, it is reasonable to expect that consumers will somewhat base their judgements and expectations on the overall attractiveness of the creative team involved in the filmmaking process. As the project’s artistic head, the director bears most responsibility for the final product and the film’s overall quality. Crofts (1998: 310–311) claims the “discourses of authorship assert the central significance of

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individual creativity within the cinema, and usually locate this in the director.” Consequently, the auteur theory effectively suggests that the director is the author of his or her films. Crofts further states that “as a polemical principle of film criticism and reviewing, authorship has had a massive success and has placed many Hollywood directors in the international pantheon.” Thus, film critics and reviewers were instrumental in the development of film authorship. Stoddart (1995: 40) adds to the debate by stating that “a true auteur … was distinguished by the[ir] presence in each film.” The auteur theory signals the artistic qualities of film; however, its increasing prominence in the industry has allowed it to become a strong marketable and commercial tool. Indeed, the director can be used as a selling device, as their films indicate a certain style and genre of film which will appeal to different audiences. However, the theory clearly ignores collaborative efforts, which are also essential to a film’s greatness. The creative team, aside from the director, can accommodate a variety of personnel, ranging from the producers, screenwriters, cinematographer, film composers and other creative and marketable individuals involved in the filmmaking process. The Hollywood industry has become increasingly concerned with marketing directors and other creative personnel through appropriate communication activities. Accordingly, the director’s previous successes are often highlighted in the film advertisements; this was a successful technique utilized for the return of James Cameron in the trailer for Avatar (2009), which used the slogan “From the director of Titanic.” Likewise, if the film is produced by Jerry Bruckheimer, the advertisement will state “A Jerry Bruckheimer Production.” Whilst there has been limited empirical research on the impact of the creative team on the film’s performance, Hennig-Thurau et al. (2001: 1–22) argue they clearly influence consumer decisionmaking behaviour, and further research is needed.

Age classification Another important, but overlooked, area of film marketing is the age classification or rating. As Kerrigan (2010: 96–97) claims, the film ratings both restrict the access of the film as well as signal to consumers the type of film on offer. Litman (1983) emphasized how film ratings play a relevant role in driving popularity. In this connection, Austin (1980) reports that popularity increases for films rated PG (parental guidance advised) or R (restricted) in the USA. HennigThurau et al. (2006: 559–575), in their study of sequential distribution, found that ratings had a greater impact on rental revenues (home consumption) than box-office figures (cinema). Thus, filmmakers are more likely to release restricted versions of the film later in the distribution process, as home consumers yearn for forbidden content such as language, violence and explicit scenes. Whilst an under-researched area of the film marketing mix, the age classification acts as a cue for consumers in selecting films either at the cinema or for home viewing.

Release strategy A variety of media and entertainment products, such as books, video games and, more significantly, films are introduced in national and international markets by means of a sequential release strategy. According to Lehman and Weinberg (2000: 18–33) sequential distribution commonly occurs in media when products become more extensively available to a market over time. If one applies this to the film market, then after theatrical release, the later channels refer to the release in DVD/Blu-Ray format, before being available on pay-per-view television channels and then finally free to view, which is more commonly known as the windows system. By

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releasing products sequentially through a series of channels it creates a sequence of revenue streams. Certain pockets of consumers will be reluctant to purchase from the primary channel (theatrical release). Alternatively, others will consume a product repeatedly, for instance rent or buy a film (in DVD format) after they previously viewed the same film in the cinema. Evidently, theatrical release strategies have gained the most commentary regarding film consumption. Indeed, a successful opening weekend has become almost a requirement for longterm success across all windows. A film that fails to open strongly often loses the attention of the media, audiences and exhibitors. Therefore, planning the timing of the release strategy is crucial. Most studies have focused on the role of competition and seasonality in the US film market. Krider and Weinberg (1998: 1–15) analysed the high-season release timing of two films competing for the same audience, whilst trying to capture as much revenue as possible. Their results empirically show that a primary concern in timing the release strategy is to avoid films that appeal to the same target audience. In terms of seasonality, the two researchers argue some release dates are more advantageous resulting in success at the box-office. Industry norms suggest it is best to release a film during the summer or a holiday period. Radas and Shugan (1998: 296–315) estimate seasonal patterns and find that seasonality accelerates a film’s box-office but might not increase the overall potential. Einav (2003: 2–36) evaluated both seasonality and competition. His findings showed that observed release patterns are closely aligned to observed patterns in sales, but not to the underlying demand. Therefore, distributors could considerably enhance their revenues by releasing their expected high season films during low season dates and avoiding the competition. When analysing different release strategies in the film market, it is not always a case of when but how to release the film. Fellman (2006) claims that most distributors in the film industry tend to follow one of three generic release strategies; “platform release” strategy, “limited” release strategy, or “wide release.”The former strategy is generally employed by independent distributors and is characterized by a low initial exhibition intensity, which progressively increases over time, whilst capitalizing upon positive word-of-mouth (WOM), before eventually declining as demand is saturated. Limited releases target a specific audience segment and aim all their marketing communications and activities at this core group. The latter strategy is generally utilized by major studios and is characterized by a high level of initial exhibition intensity, which gradually decays over time as demand becomes saturated. Scott’s (2004: 39–40) research on the dominance of Hollywood in international markets and the distribution and marketing of their films provides valuable insight into the release strategies of the major studios. His research primarily focuses on the initial release, and the marketing and distribution of films for theatrical exhibition. He states, “The majors’ domestic distributional infrastructure is focused on saturation theatrical openings across the country and maximisation of the box-office returns from the first weekend of exhibition.” Here, Scott is reflecting upon the significance of the initial exhibition and the intensity of the release of the film.Whilst it is the first step in a chain of market windows, the majors strongly believe that success (or failure) of the activities at this stage in the process has a significant impact on the subsequent commercial performance of the film in the later release channels. Focusing on the importance of exhibitors, Swami et al. (1999) introduced a decision-support model named “SilverScreener” to assist exhibitors in selecting and scheduling their films to maximize their cumulative profit. Their results imply that the number of units (cinema screens, copies of DVDs) made available at the time of release will influence financial outcomes of the film’s performance. Ravid (1999: 463–492) contributes to these findings and claims the number of units released influences the attention of the media and stimulates promotional buzz until this will deteriorate as new films are released. However, Swami et al. (1999) argues that the

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distribution and exhibition will be able to match the supply with the level of demand in weeks after initial release, thus the number of units will be reduced. Although theatrical release gains the most commentary, the majority of revenue is arguably earned from subsequent windows (DVD/Blu-Ray, subscription television). De Vany and Walls (1996) developed a model which examined the impact of theatrical release strategies on subsequent windows. Their findings proved that a strong performance at the box-office acts as a signalling process for consumers selecting their films later in the release. Moreover, HennigThurau et al. (2006: 559–575) investigated the effects of sequential distribution into three release channels: opening weekend (short-term) box-office revenues, long-term box-office revenues and video (now DVD/Blu-Ray) rental revenues. As predicted, their findings showed that differing success factors determine the outcome of different stages of the distribution channels. For instance, distribution intensity and date of release enhance box-office outcomes but have no impact on rental revenues. However, the authors did acknowledge the benefits of sequential distribution, as short-term box-office revenues, long-term box-office revenues and video rental revenues are all interrelated. Indeed, the film’s short-term box-office positively influences its long-term box-office and rental revenues. Similarly, long-term box-office positively influences its video rental revenues. Lehman and Weinberg’s (2000: 18–33) research on sequential distribution focused on the optimal time release of a film into the second channel. From a sample of 35 films, the authors estimated exponential sales curves for both cinema attendance and video rentals and how the primary channel predicts and influences the secondary channel. Their results showed that the film should be released to video (or DVD/Blu-Ray) sooner than current practice allows, thus benefiting from shortening the time between theatrical and non-theatrical windows. Indeed, advances in consumer technologies (DVD, Blu-Ray, VOD, HDTV, DVR, tablets and smartphones) are starting to have a significant impact on theatrical distribution and further research is required away from theatrical revenues and more focused on home viewing consumption. Moving forward, the developments in in home viewing through improved film streaming will require further consideration of the windows system and we see innovative solutions being developed on a regular basis which play around with different distribution models. The main impediment to switching distribution strategies lies in the heavily contractual agreements that distributors have with exhibitors, broadcasters and film retailers which prevent moving far from the traditional windows system. Furthermore, the findings gained from the research into theatrical release strategies are overly simplistic. It is widely acknowledged that the number of units released per film and the overall strategy is dependent on the advertising budget and the decisions made in connection to advertising. Donahue (1987) states that approximately 80 per cent of the film’s advertising budget is spent during the two weeks prior to theatrical release. Drawing on Faber and O’Guinn’s (1984: 371–377) study on advertising, both authors argue that advertising informs potential customers about a film’s content and allows them to experience parts of the film, signalling the overall quality. Indeed, Conchar et al. (2005: 445–460) posit the intensity of the advertising can signal the studio’s belief in the quality of the film. As a result, several studies have established a link between advertising expenditures, number of screens allocated and box-office grosses. Prag and Casavant (1994) found a positive correlation between the higher levels of advertising expenditures and the higher number of screens in the first week. Elberse and Eliashberg (2003: 337) concluded that advertising expenditures are a key predictor in securing opening week revenues, since advertising expenditures are a key predictor in the screens allocated to a film in its opening week. Accordingly, films attached to large budgets and deemed marketable (but not necessarily

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playable) are likely to receive additional advertising and prone to wider release strategies. This arguably positions them at an unfair advantage to less financed and playable films which still may provoke film consumption. Consequently, whilst the level of advertising and decisions regarding the release strategy appear to impact revenue, it remains largely unclear how both elements are influenced by consumer behaviour. This leads us to consider the notion of playability which we will discuss in the following section. O’Reilly and Kerrigan’s (2013) paper on film brands notes the need to consider how these elements discussed above can be seen as brands which come together in a film brand, and in so doing, fight for meaning in the mind of the consumer. Drawing on the idea of brandscape as introduced by Sherry (1998), they argue the need to recognize that consumer association with specific film brand elements will transform over time through associations with other film brand elements.

Playability: reviews, awards and word-of-mouth The long-term success (or failure) of a film is dependent on how well the film lives up to expectations set by the audience in relation to their pre-perceptions of the film. When analysing the playability in the film market, one must recognize the artistic qualities in granting the film excellence. In the film industry, Addis and Holbrook (2010) assert at least three different types of participants play roles in evaluating a film’s excellence: expert critics, industry peers and ordinary audiences. Film is experiential and the aesthetic and artistic quality of the film play a key role in terms of success and are a subject of discussion through different forms of communication, such as film reviews (expert critics), awards (industry peers) and consumer WOM (ordinary audiences). Here, it is appropriate to evaluate each component to establish the impact on film choice and consumption. Expert criticism offers opinions and judgements provided by independent professional film critics, which are made available to the public through a variety of media communications, notably before the film opens. Hsu (2006: 420–450) discusses how critics significantly act as “imaginary gatekeepers” who screen products and aid in assessing the film’s overall quality, consequently shaping audiences’ consumption habits. She further posits that critics’ established belief systems influence which “market categories” gain wider recognition. The relevance of expert criticism is somewhat limited, since many consumers think that critics’ views are only compatible with their own preference system. Holbrook (1999: 144–155) compared evaluations of film critics with ordinary consumers, arguing that selected film characteristics differ significantly between critics and consumers. This links to the art versus commerce debate which was revisited by Holbrook and Addis (2008: 87–107) in connection to the impact of expert criticism (art) on box-office gross (commerce). The scholars hypothesize that critical acclaim (measured by awards and critical praise) and market performance (measured by box-office earnings) are separate and independent dimensions; thus art and commerce appear to reflect two mutually exclusive positioning strategies. However, if one explores Bauman’s (2001: 404–426) study concerning the debate, arguably film reviews do impact on box-office earnings. Bauman researches the audience’s shift in perception of film during the 1950s and 1960s from commercial entertainment to a form of art. The most prominent change appeared to be the increased population of audiences with post-secondary education. This resulted in larger audiences accepting film as art and as a consequence more film patrons attended newly founded film festivals (granting exposure to many foreign and independent films), whilst yearning for new film

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reviews and criticism (whose style and language had become more sophisticated by the emergence of film studies in academia). Incidentally, a link between expert opinions and a film’s box-office earnings has been established both theoretically and empirically. Eliashberg and Shugan (1997: 68–78) claim that expert criticism provides consumers with information regarding a film’s content and overall quality, and subsequently found that reviews had a greater impact on long-term box-office revenues, allowing time for WOM to circulate. Therefore, both authors conclude that the relevance of expert criticism should not reflect the influence on viewer behaviour (critics as influencers), but rather be interpreted as the ability to accurately predict film performance (critics as predictors). However, Hennig-Thurau et al. (2001) argue that film reviews have an impact on audience expectations, hence their satisfaction with the film. As a result, both elements (critics as influencers and critics as predictors) contribute to the relationship between expert criticism and box-office earnings. Unusually, Hennig-Thurau et al. (2006) in a later study found reviews had a greater impact on short-term box-office revenues, stating a case that for consumers it reduces the risk of opening weekend purchase. Whilst the findings remain inconclusive, there appears to be an overall acknowledgement that critical acclaim improves the film’s performance. Industry peers also express their judgements in the form of awards which are another independent indicator of the aesthetic quality of a film. Durie et al. (2000) claim that award successes can play a key role in the marketing campaign, aiding the consumers’ perceptions of the film. There are a multitude of such awards, but according to Addis and Holbrook (2010), the Academy Awards (or Oscars) receive the greatest publicity, hence have the greatest potential influence on viewer behaviour. Indeed, Hennig-Thurau et al. (2006) found that the impact of awards, more specifically Oscars, relate positively to long-term box-office revenues. Such awards like the Oscars appear to matter not only to the success of those films that win, but also to the fortunes of those nominated. Dodds and Holbrook (1988) and Prag and Casavant (1994) argue that an Oscar-nominated film (as well as an awarded film) also enhances consumer perceptions of that particular film, resulting in its subsequent success. However, investigations by other authors such as Austin (1989) have not been able to confirm any significant influence on consumer behaviour. In any case, Academy Award nominations and Oscar statuettes are widely regarded as quality signals in the industry and influence consumer selection. It is difficult to separate the role of critics and awards from WOM, as they are closely related. Anderson (1998: 6–8) explains WOM involves informal communications between consumers concerning positive or negative consumption experiences with regard to goods or services. Therefore, WOM can be motivated both by satisfaction (positive experience) and dissatisfaction (negative experience) with a particular product or service. According to Eliashberg et al. (2006: 648–650), WOM appears to be an important driver of success in the entertainment industry, since such goods are often consumed collectively and often feature in daily conversations amongst family and friends. Therefore, it is reasonable to assume that the success of a film is determined by the extent and direction of WOM. This notion is supported by film marketing professionals such as Durie et al. (2000), who believe that WOM is pivotal to the success or failure of a film. Dellarocas et al. (2007: 239–250) studied the release of Steven Spielberg’s The Terminal (2004). The film starring Tom Hanks and Catherine Zeta-Jones grossed a total of only $77 million for its theatrical release, despite a strong opening weekend ($19 million). This amount was far less than pre-release predictions had suggested and less than half the average of the cumulative gross of Tom Hanks’s other films ($157 million). Unfavourable WOM from consumers was cited as the main culprit.

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Of course, WOM is hard to measure. Dellarocas et al. (2007) propose the possibility of measurement in the online context, considering e-WOM by measuring the impact of online reviews in forecasting box-office earnings. A proliferation of online sources that provide information on films including chat rooms, portals (Yahoo Movies), databases (IMDB), critics’ sites (Rotten Tomatoes), customer-review sections of online retailers (Amazon, Play.com) and social networking sites (Facebook, Twitter) has made it easy for consumers to share opinions on particular films. Kerrigan and Yalkin’s (2009) study of consumers’ use of online reviews (notably IMDB and Rotten Tomatoes) found that consumers did not consult them to inform their selection process when visiting the cinema; however, they were more likely to utilize them to extend their consumption experience. Interestingly, their results also showed that in the small sample of consumers studied, offline WOM proved more influential in consumption choice as opposed to e-WOM. Nevertheless, the dynamic of WOM alongside the influence of awards and critics will arguably have the capacity to impact upon the market performance of a film. The consumer’s pre-perceptions and expectations of the film’s quality will be examined alongside their views and assessments having consumed the film, and any negative correlations will be expressed verbally and undoubtedly affect future decisions regarding that film or similar. As we move forward into an era of even greater in-home and alternative venue consumption of films, we may expect an increasing role for forms of classification of film based on the film marketing elements and transmitted via WOM/e-WOM. Within this context, it is important to consider the role of the avid consumer in this process and, in doing so, examine the increasing role played by film festivals in shaping film marketing practices. Shectman (2005: 252) argues that film festivals “are entangled spaces in which filmmakers and audiences negotiate aesthetic, ethical, political, and practical traditions and communities.” Film festivals screen films, which are selected in order to adhere to a specific theme or quality signal, catering for a specialized audience. Such audiences can be predominantly socially, culturally or commercially motivated, depending on the nature of the festival. Montal (2004: 316) notes that such festivals “are generally organized around screening and prizes … introducing movies of a certain style to a paying audience, attended by distribution executives seeking product and by opinionmakers and journalists seeking stories, as well as a paying audience.” Here we see the dual sociocultural/commercial role of festivals where “prizewinners gain industry attention and the ability to advertise their prizes in the publicity campaigns as a ‘stamp of approval’ recognized by eclectic moviegoers” (Montal 2004: 316). Rhyne (2009) notes the rapid growth in numbers of festivals internationally since the launch of the first international film festival in 1930s Venice. Film festivals usually have a core activity which is to screen films and additional activities, such as film markets, networking activities, seminars and talk shows. Apart from having core activity and additional activities, film festivals are temporary and have a formal programme within a timescale. Film festivals are generally organized once a year and hence they are not permanent. Harbord (2009) states that the “spatial dimension” (p. 40) of festivals produce an “experience of temporality” (p. 41), which creates what de Valck (2007: 21) refers to as “an atmosphere of heightened expectation and festivity.” Iordanova (2010: 12–38) argues that film festivals help in the formation of community wherein the members share interests or identity and experience by “virtue of their attendance at the festival” (p. 13).

Stepping into the future So, where are we now in the field of film marketing? While it is not true to say that we have moved beyond simple execution of film posters and trailers as discussed by Kerrigan (2010) to a 292

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point where films are marketed through one-to-one, personalized messages to deeply engaged consumers who are rewarded for their efforts through gamification, things are changing. There is an increase in the use of transmedia storytelling in promoting films. Jenkins (2006) defines transmedia storytelling as “telling a single story or story experience across multiple platforms and formats using current digital technologies” and in his blog (henryjenkins.org) he discusses a number of transmedia campaigns which illustrate how a combination of new and old media can be used in delivering messages, developing parallel stories and building a community of engaged supporters for a film. Through allowing the audience to connect with each other, create and disseminate materials and engage on a range of levels depending on the type of involvement desired, transmedia campaigns can counteract the conventionally short promotional window for films during theatrical release. Kerrigan (2010) also discusses how netnative filmmakers are developing such user engaged strategies to both promote the film and to develop more insight into their core film fans. However, to date, transmedia campaigns have largely been used to promote science fiction and fantasy genres, failing to gain popularity among other film genres as a mode of promotion. Just as the social media age is signalling changes in film promotion, new technological developments are changing how, where and when we watch films. The possibility to stream film on a range of devices, ever improving home cinema capabilities and the development of new venues exhibiting films is impacting on our wider relationship with film. We are in a period of transition where risk-aversion is still apparent among major film studio executives, while consumers are voting with their various technological devices. Future film marketing work needs to understand how these consumption changes are impacting on how we interact with traditional methods of film marketing, how where we will watch and who we will watch with impacts on our film choice and how we will make sense of the one-to-many, many-to-one and one-to-one forms of marketing communications as these develop.

References Addis, M., and Holbrook, M. (2010). Dreaming of Artistic Excellence, Popularity, or Both? In D. O’Reilly and F. Kerrigan (eds) Marketing the Arts, A Fresh Approach. London: Routledge. Albert, S. (1998). Movie Stars and the Distribution of Financially Successful Films in the Motion Picture Industry. Journal of Cultural Economics, 22 (4), 249–270. Anderson, E. W. (1998). Consumer Satisfaction and Word of Mouth. Journal of Services Research, 1 (1), 5–17. Austin, B. A. (1980). Rating the Movies. Journal of Popular Film and Television, 7 (4), 384–399. Austin, B. A. (1989). Immediate Seating: A Look at Movie Audiences. Belmont, CA: Wadsworth. Baumann, S. (2001). Intellectualization and Art Word Development: Film in the United States. American Sociological Review, 66 (3), 404–426. Conchar, M. P., Crask, M. R., and Zinkhan, G. M. (2005). Market Valuation Models of the Effect of Advertising and Promotional Spending: A Review and Meta-analysis. Journal of the Academy of Marketing Science, 33 (4), 445–460. Crofts, S. (1998). Authorship and Hollywood. In J. Hill and P. C. Gibson (eds) The Oxford Guide to Film Studies. Oxford: Oxford University Press. de Valck, M. (2007). Film Festivals: From European Geopolitics to Global Cinephilia (Film Culture in Transition). Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press. De Vany, A., and Walls, W. D. (1996). Bose-Einstein Dynamics and Adaptive Contracting in the Motion Picture Industry. Economic Journal, 106 (439), 1493–1514. Dellarocas, C., Zhang, X., and Awad, N. F. (2007). Exploring the Value of Online Product Reviews in Forecasting Sales: The Case of Motion Pictures. Journal of Interactive Marketing, 21 (4), 23–45. Dodds, J., and Holbrook, M. (1988). What’s An Oscar Worth? An Empirical Estimation of the Effects of Nominations and Awards on Movie Distribution and Revenues. Current Research in Film: Audiences, Economics and Law, 4, 72–87.

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Donahue, S. (1987). American Film Distribution: The Changing Marketplace. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Research Press. Durie, J., Pham, A., and Watson, N. (2000). Marketing and Selling Your Film Around the World. Los Angeles, CA: Silman-James Press. Einav, L. (2003). Gross Seasonality and Underlying Seasonality: Evidence from the U.S. Motion Picture Industry. Stanford, CA: Stanford Institute for Economic Policy Research. Elberse, A., and Eliashberg, J. (2003). Demand and Supply Dynamics for Sequentially Released Products in International Markets: The Case of Motion Pictures. Marketing Science, 22 (3), 329–354. Eliashberg, J., and Shugan, S. M. (1997). Film Critics: Influencers or Predictors? Journal of Marketing, 61 (2), 68–78. Eliashberg, J., Elberse, A., and Leenders, M. A. (2006). The Motion Picture Industry: Critical Issues in Practice, Current Research, and New Research Directions. Marketing Science, 25 (6), 638–661. Faber, R. J., and O’Guinn, T. C. (1984). Effect of Media Advertising and Other Sources on Movie Selection. Journalism Quarterly, 61 (2), 371–377. Fellman, D. R. (2006). Theatrical Distribution. In J. E. Squire (ed.) The Movie Business Book (International 3rd edn). Maidenhead: McGraw-Hill. Harbord, J. (2009). Film Festivals-Time-Event. In D. Iordanova and R. Rhyne (eds) Film Festivals Yearbook 1: The Festival Circuit. St. Andrews, Scotland: St. Andrews Film Studies (with College Gate Press). Hennig-Thurau, T., Walsh, G., and Wruck, O. (2001). An Investigation into the Factors Determining the Success of Service Innovations: The Case of Motion Pictures. Academy of Marketing Science Review, 6 (1), 1–22. Hennig-Thurau, T., Houston, M. B., and Walsh, G. (2006). The Differing Roles of Success Drivers across Sequential Channels: An Application to the Motion Picture Industry. Journal of the Academy of Marketing, 34 (4), 559–575. Holbrook, M. (1999). Popular Appeal Versus Expert Judgements of Motion Pictures. Journal of Consumer Research, 26 (2), 144–155. Holbrook, M., and Addis, M. (2008). Art versus Commerce in the Movie Industry: A Two-Path Model of Motion-Picture Success. Journal of Cultural Economics, 32 (2), 87–107. Hsu, G. (2006). Jacks of all Trades and Masters of None: Audiences’ Reactions to Spanning Genres in Feature Film Production. Administrative Science Quarterly, 51 (3), 420–450. Iordanova, D. (2010). Mediating Diaspora: Film Festivals and ‘Imagined Communities’. In D. Iordanova and R. Cheung (eds) Film Festival Yearbook 2: Film Festivals and Imagined Communities (pp. 12–44). St. Andrews, Scotland: St Andrews Film Studies (with College Gate Press). Jenkins, H. (2006). Convergence Culture: Where Old and New Media Collide. New York: New York University Press. Jenkins, H., Ford, S., and Green, J. (2013). Spreadable Media: Creating Value and Meaning in a Networked Culture. New York: New York University Press. Jowett, G. S. (1985). Giving Them What They Want: Movie Audience Research Before 1950. In B. A. Austin (ed.) Current Research in Film: Audiences, Economics, and Law (pp. 19–36). Norwood, NJ: Ablex. Kerrigan, F. (2010). Film Marketing. Oxford: Elsevier. Kerrigan, F., and Yalkin, C. (2009). Revisiting the Role of Critical Reviews in Film Marketing. In E. H. Wirtén and M. Ryman (eds) Mashing-up Culture: The Rise of User-generated Content, Proceedings from the COUNTER Workshop Mashing-up Culture. Institutionen för ABM, Uppsala Universitet. Krider, R., and Weinberg, C. (1998). Competitive Dynamics and the Introduction of New Products: The Motion Picture Timing Game. Journal of Marketing Research, 35 (1), 1–15. Lehman, D., and Weinberg, C. (2000). Sales Through Sequential Distribution Channels: An Application to Movies and Videos. Journal of Marketing, 64 (3), 18–33. Litman, B. R. (1983). Predicting Success of Theatrical Movies: An Empirical Study. Journal of Popular Culture, 16 (4), 159–175. Litman, B. R., and Kohl, L. S. (1989). Predicting Financial Success of Motion Pictures:The ’80s Experience. Journal of Media Economics, 2 (2), 35–50. Montal, S. (2004). Film Festivals and Markets. In J. E. Squire (ed.) The Movie Business Book (International 3rd edn, pp. 315–330). Maidenhead: McGraw-Hill. O’Reilly, D., and Kerrigan, F. (2013). A View to a Brand: Introducing the Film Brandscape. European Journal of Marketing, 47 (5/6). Prag, J., and Casavant, J. (1994). An Empirical Study of the Determinants of Revenues and Marketing Expenditures in the Motion Picture Industry. Journal of Cultural Economics, 18 (3), 217–235.

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Radas, S., and Shugan, S. (1998). Seasonal Marketing and Timing New Product Introductions. Marketing Research, 35 (3), 296–315. Ravid, S. A. (1999). Information, Blockbusters, and Stars: A Study of the Film Industry. Journal of Business, 72 (4), 443–492. Rhyne, R. (2009). Film Festival Circuits and Stakeholders. In D. Iordanova and R. Rhyne (eds) Film Festival Yearbook 1: The Festival Circuit (pp. 9–22). St Andrews, Scotland: St. Andrews Film Studies (with College Gate Press). Sawhney, M., and Eliashberg, J. (1996). A Parsimonious Model for Forecasting Gross Box-Office Revenues of Motion Pictures. Marketing Science, 15 (2), 113–131. Scott, A. J. (2004). Hollywood and the World: The Geography of Motion-Picture Distribution and Marketing. Review of International Political Economy, 11 (1), 33–61. Shectman, S. (2005). Building Bridges and Traveling through Time: Ethics, Practice, and Priorities in the Second Moscow International Visual Anthropology Film Festival. American Anthropologist, 107 (2), 252–256. Sherry, J. F. (1998). The Soul of the Company Store: Nike Town Chicago and the Emplaced Brandscape. In J. F. Sherry (ed.) ServiceScapes: The Concept of Place in Contemporary Markets (pp. 305–336). Chicago, IL: NTC Business Books. Sochay, S. (1994). Predicting the Performance of Motion Pictures. Journal of Media Economics, 7 (4), 1–20. Stoddart, H. (1995). Auteurism and Film Authorship. In J. Hollows and M. Jancovich (eds) Approaches to Popular Film. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Swami, S., Eliashberg, J. E., and Weinberg, C. B. (1999). Silver Screener: A Modeling Approach to Movie Screens Management. Marketing Science, 18 (3), 352–372. Wallace, T., Seigerman, A., and Holbrook, M. (1993). The Role of Actors and Actresses in the Success of Films: How Much is a Movie Star Worth? Journal of Cultural Economics, 17 (1), 1–27.

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27 FINE ART MARKETING AND CONSUMPTION Kate MacNeill and Meaghan Wilson-Anastasios

Introduction The marketing of visual art has proved to be a challenging topic. In part this arises from the enigmatic nature of the ‘product’. Some consider the act of creating a work of visual art to be such a pure act of self-expression that it can have little, if anything, to do with a market where buyer and seller meet. Motivations for artistic expression are seen as ‘subjective conceptions of beauty, emotion or other aesthetic ideal’ (Fillis 2010: 34). This has led some commentators to assert that artists choose between seeking a pecuniary or non-pecuniary benefit from their practice or, to put it bluntly, make a choice between critical acclaim and money (Cowen and Tabarrok 2000: 244). However, regardless of the motivations of artists, a market in art exists and artworks are consumed in a variety of ways: as an outright purchase, a loan or as an experience of viewing the work while on public display. The focus of this chapter is on the market and extra-market activity that contributes to the process whereby art attains its value in the market. Something happens once the artist completes an artwork and it starts to circulate in the public sphere. Terms such as alchemy have been used to describe the often mysterious way artworks acquire value: as a result of ‘the market’s alchemy, certain art goes on to acquire extremely high levels of added value’ (Robertson 2005b: 22). Aesthetic judgements and consumer choice clearly play a part. But the role of market players also influences the way in which this value attaches and the extent to which it endures.

The artworld The concept of an artworld, which operates both as a gatekeeper and as an attributor of value, has been widely invoked since Arthur Danto utilized the term in his 1964 article (see also Dickie 1974 and Becker 1982). This artworld has been described as including not only galleries, dealers and auction houses but an intersecting collection of individuals and organizations involved in public relations, art fairs, biennales and triennales, art prizes, art journals and magazines, art criticism, public galleries and museums, government agencies and universities (Alloway 1984; Joy and Sherry 2003). Few of these are truly independent of other members of the artworld, and many individuals play a number of roles. Traditionally regarded as authoritative sites where art already credentialled by experts is collected on behalf of the public, public museums play a more

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complicated role when it comes to contemporary works of art. The exhibition of prestigious and iconic artworks well established in the historical canon brings credibility to an institution. In contrast the exhibition of contemporary art in a prestigious museum brings status and value to the work of the artist themselves. One way of understanding the shift that takes place from the initial act of creation on the part of the artist and the value that attaches to art in the art market is to see the production of ‘art’ as being inherently collaborative. For the alchemy that occurs does so in conjunction with the active participation of this complex of stakeholders. Indeed, the marketing and consumption of fine art cannot be understood in isolation from the wider ‘artworld’. As Derrick Chong has noted, the view that art is in fact a collaborative production process ‘runs counter to the dominant tradition of emphasizing the individual artist as unique creator of the work’ (2005: 86 citing Becker 1982 and Wolff 1981). According to Chong, artworks can be thought of as joint products of all the artworld stakeholders. In the main this activity commences only after the artwork has been created (Botti 2000: 35) but, as we shall see later, once an artist has achieved a certain status in the artworld, the mere fact that they themselves have made the work is sufficient to attach great value to it. For works of art are not the only products of this artworld cooperation: artists are also produced. This occurs through a process of being credentialled by artworld actors who over time acquire the status of tastemaker and become capable of ‘consecrating objects or persons’ (Velthuis 2005: 27). The nature of the product that is being marketed becomes even more obscure as we shall see later when we consider the phenomenon of the ‘superstar artist’. It is only once we understand the wide range of stakeholder interests in the value of an artwork that we can come to appreciate the difficulties faced by consumers in their attempts to make a ‘good buy’. These stakeholders are active in both formal and informal marketing practices and the process of commodification remains opaque. Artworld actors play a delicate game of both appearing to be impartial tastemakers and valuers and at the same time maintain a strong financial interest in the status and value of contemporary art. Commercial galleries, art fairs, antique shops, auction houses must be understood as sales outlets (Robertson 2005a: 4). But as Velthuis observed, retail galleries rarely make overt displays of their commercial activity, with their more public areas closer in appearance to public museums than to retail outlets. Artworks hung sparsely on white walls convey the impression that the role of the gallery owners and art dealers is of ‘disinterested promoters and patrons rather than merchants and marketeers of art’ (Velthuis 2005: 21). It is only in the back rooms where evidence of a commercial operation is to be found: desks, files, paperwork, and ‘stock’. Given the opaque operations of the art market, it is surprising that this area of high value market activity remains unregulated. Derrick Chong observes that comparable transactions in other areas of activity are more closely regulated, for example the financial services (2005: 94). Not unlike financial services, consumers uneducated in the ways of the art market are largely reliant on the seller for information about the quality of the good, placing ignorant consumers at a disadvantage (Robertson 2005b: 15). Markets function perfectly with perfect information on the part of buyers and seller. Few, if any, markets are perfect and the noted cultural economist William Baumol (1986) observed that there is no ‘true price’ and no ‘true state of the market’. Baumol asserted that in reality the imperfect nature of information in relation to the prices and transactions in the art market has little impact. This conclusion resulted from a longitudinal study of art prices, which found that prices varied randomly over time and that there was no long-run equilibrium. However, markets function better where both buyer and seller are at least well informed, and share the same information. At any particular point in time it is

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likely that artworld players will have privileged access to information that is not available to consumers.

Art fairs, biennales and publications More recent additions to the array of artworld players come in the form of prestigious international exhibitions of contemporary art. The best known of these is the Venice Biennale which since the late 1800s has provided a platform for the exhibition of the work of contemporary artists nominated by participating countries. The Venice Biennale is ostensibly independent of any particular art institution. As marketing exercises biennales are viewed as being authoritative and independent and are extremely influential in the contemporary art world. Their credibility comes in part from the fact that, like public institutions, they are not overt marketplaces. Rather they provide a platform for the exhibition of the best of contemporary art and an opportunity for consumers to view the work in the one location. The apparent independence of the biennale, supported in the main by government funding and sponsorship, disguises the fact that it attracts enormous amounts of philanthropic support – much of it from art patrons, in other words, collectors of contemporary art. The non-commercial nature of biennales can be contrasted with the art fair, which is all about selling. Although even here the display of works shares much with a gallery hang and the retail activity is discreetly conducted. The perceived distinction between the art fair and biennale is far from rigid and art fairs now credential themselves with curated spaces – resembling biennales, and the Singapore Biennale introduced ‘Showcase Singapore’ as part of the 2008 biennale, effectively an art fair in the central venue space of the biennale (Fairley 2009: 11). These fairs and biennales create an instant art world microcosm for three months every two years. The distinction between biennale and art fair may only ever have been superficial; Sarah Thornton’s Seven Days in the Art World (2009) describes the way in which the selected artists representing each nation in the Venice Giardini are accompanied by their dealer. Over time it has been the dealer that has financed the exhibition of their artists’ work, recognizing the opportunity it provides to further the artists’, and their own, business (Thornton 2009: 237). During the boom in contemporary art that commenced in the late 1990s the art publishing industry evolved to reflect shifting expectations of artworld players and consumers. Art publications now tend to be divided into one of two varieties: specialist academic journals that target a small and expert audience; and those that rely upon advertising revenue and so focus on a wider, more general audience (Stallabrass 2006 [1999]: 270–285). The importance of advertisers to these magazines can be illustrated by the proportional representation of pages featuring advertisements to editorial in Australian Art Collector magazine. This shifted from 30 per cent advertising pages and 70 per cent editorial in 1997 to 70 per cent and 30 per cent respectively in 2006 (Wilson-Anastasios 2008: 114). To satisfy advertisers, editorial in populist art publications is characteristically benign, and often presents contemporary art and artists to readers using what can best be described as a ‘soft sell’ approach. Australian Art Collector introduced features geared towards marketing contemporary artists, and presented as a wish-list or shopping guide for prospective buyers: ‘Smart Art Under $3,000’, ‘Undiscovered: Our Rising Art Stars’; and ‘50 Most Collectable Artists’. These magazines use a layout and vernacular that is familiar to readers of fashion or interior design publications and are heavily reliant upon the interview format and features on single artists. This results in editorial that is easily digested and visually appealing in terms of presentation, but it often lacks critical distance and is deficient in meaningful and useful information for serious consumers of visual art.

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Primary, secondary and auction markets The ownership and consumption of fine arts is associated with great wealth and yet the life of the visual artists is one that is most often described in terms of hardship (Throsby and Hollister 2003). That these extremes can operate within the same industry is a result of the different market segments. The auction market for visual art is probably the most prominent aspect of commercial art dealings and yet most often widely misunderstood. It is dominated by the two major auction businesses founded in the eighteenth century, Sotheby’s and Christie’s, and operates alongside the secondary art market; each market with their own distinctive features in a netherworld of formal and informal networks, businesses and individuals. The headline sales figures for art auctions or museum purchases bear very little relationship to the circumstances in which contemporary art is being produced and first sold into the market. The explanation for such divergent characteristics is that the product sold in the art market is highly segmented. It consists of the latest offerings from recent art school graduates to the auction house spectacle of an Andy Warhol changing hands between mysterious anonymous collectors. At every level of the market a variety of strategies are deployed to bring sellers and buyers together; commercial strategies that are fast moving and often counterintuitive. The primary market is where most sales of new art occur, commonly in commercial art galleries where a dealer will ‘represent’ a living artist. Secondary market refers to sales of ‘second-hand’ art. Most secondary-market sales pass through the auction system, but there are also many dealers who have galleries that specialize in the trade in secondary-market art; for example, all sales of historical art are, necessarily, made in the secondary market. The distinction between primary-market and secondary-market dealers is not always clear-cut and primary-market dealers may have a subsidiary trade in secondary-market artwork, and secondary-market dealers often represent living artists. Nonetheless, dealers do tend to specialize in one or the other area. The principal source of information about pricing in the art market is the auction record. Systematic information about art prices in the primary market is unavailable. Even at the point of sale, when it might be assumed to be in a dealer’s best interests to be forthright about price, dealers tend to be circumspect about revealing their pricing policy (Velthuis 2005: 83). This means that secondary-market figures derived from auction sales form the basis of most empirical art market studies. For reasons outlined below this can produce a misleading impression of the state of the market and the value of artwork. Historically, there was a clear delineation between the auction world and the primary market. Notwithstanding a handful of notable exceptions, such as the occasion Paul Gaugun auctioned off his own work to fund his voyage to the South Pacific, the great majority of artwork that passed through auction was historical. Trade buyers dominated the auction rooms and, until the 1970s, contemporary art rarely appeared at auction. But in the late 1990s the major international auction houses increasingly focused on work by living artists. When Christie’s Australia commenced specialist contemporary art auctions in 1998, they positioned themselves in direct competition with primary-market dealers. As other major local auction houses followed suit, auctions were rebranded to communicate an affinity with contemporary art galleries, from the physical staging of the auctions to the contemporary art catalogues, which were distinguished from historical art catalogues through distinct font style, colour and layout. Internationally in-house specialists assumed the role of curators and educators, communicating to potential buyers through video clips posted on YouTube and digital newsletters. The natural endpoint of this process was the transformation of the auction house into a commercial gallery when Damien Hirst staged a sale of new artworks at Sotheby’s, London, in September 2008. Beautiful Inside My Head Forever, as the auction was called, generated £111 million from 299

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the sale of 218 works of art. But illustrating how blurred the boundaries between primary and secondary markets have become, it was revealed after the auction that Hirst’s own primarymarket dealers were active at the auction, and helped generate bids and purchases that were estimated at £40 million (Calvert 2008). During the same period, prominent and influential players crossed over from major contemporary art museums and public institutions to work in the private sector. Susan May, former head of the Arts Council collection and curator of Tate Modern’s Turbine Hall commissions was appointed creative director of Jay Jopling’s White Cube, which represents Damien Hirst and Tracey Emin. Christie’s Haunch of Venison recruited Robert Fitzpatrick, director of the Chicago Museum of Contemporary Art, to head its New York branch. In New York, Lisa Dennison, Director and a 29-year veteran of the Guggenheim Museum, was appointed to Sotheby’s where she now occupies the position of Chairman of Sotheby’s North and South America (Vogel 2007). For consumers, senior museum staff bring with them cachet and apparently disinterested authority. For auction houses, they also bring the benefit of accumulated knowledge about private collections that contain significant works of art, and, more importantly, these experts often have established relationships with the collectors who might be in a position to consign works of art to sale.

Market distortions – an overview Marketing and pricing of fine art in the primary and secondary markets is governed by distinct and quite different parameters. When a work of art is sold in a commercial gallery, it is priced as a retail commodity. But unlike other retail goods, material costs, such as the price of canvas, paper and paint, mean little in calculating a sale price (Crane 1987: 112). The artist’s standing is the intangible price component of an artwork in the primary market, and can be a considerable proportion of the total price. In most instances there is no direct correlation between an artist’s gallery and auction values. It is not unusual and it is quite valid for an artist with no auction record at all to sell their work for many thousands of dollars in a primary-market commercial gallery. But for consumers mindful of art’s investment value, an artist’s auction profile is crucial, as the auction market is the principal outlet for the resale of art. In the absence of an auction profile, an artist’s work bought in the primary market will be difficult if not impossible to sell at a price that recoups the initial investment, far less at an increased value. This places auction houses in a position of considerable influence over the marketing and pricing of fine art; there is a clear connection between auction house authority and price setting in the secondary market (Ashenfelter and Graddy 2003: 763–787). More often than not, buyers follow the auction houses’ lead and accept presale estimates as real indicators of an artwork’s value (Mei and Moses 2002: 1656–1668). As with other luxury goods, price becomes the principal indicator of artistic quality for buyers when it is difficult for anyone other than an expert to determine which product is ‘better’, and where there is an asymmetrical distribution of information amongst market participants. In this instance, Joseph Stiglitz describes price as an important ‘signaller’ of information about quality for consumers: price ‘conveys information and affects behaviour’ (Dorward 1987: 128; Stiglitz 1987: 3). In common with other creative industries, the art market generates ‘superstars’. In economic terms, a superstar is a by-product of a phenomenon whereby ‘relatively small numbers of people earn enormous amounts of money and dominate the activities in which they engage’ (Rosen 1981: 845). The superstar effect has important implications for the behaviour of consumers within a marketplace; when one artist becomes a superstar, demand converges on that artist, and

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all others become poor substitutes. This can result in sudden and dramatic rises in value in a competitive price-setting forum such as the auction market; as Goetzmann has observed, ‘the only constraint limiting the price of a work of art is the wealth of the collectors who desire it’ (1993: 1375). This demand results in the expansion of the superstar’s market, but comparable gains are not transferred to the non-superstar artists’ prices (Caves 2000). The boom in contemporary art sales in the first decade of the twenty-first century only occurred at the very top of the market. Less sophisticated buyers who bought assuming that the price increases experienced by the superstars would flow through the entire market would find it impossible to recover their investment. As a result of the connection between primary-market values and auction prices, primarymarket dealers, and those operating in the secondary market, are very mindful of the workings of the auction world, in particular the prices that their artists attract on the rostrum. For their part, modern auction houses cannot be seen as disinterested agents for the sale of second-hand art. They play an important and active role in the process of price formation. But from a consumer’s perspective, it is important to note that an auction house is bound to promote the seller’s and its own best interest. Its only obligation to the buyer is to avoid knowing misrepresentation, for example not knowingly selling a fake or forgery or stolen goods. The domain over which the auction house presides is largely unregulated. The conviction in 2001 of Sotheby’s Chairman, A. Alfred Taubman, for price-fixing with rival auction house, Christie’s, demonstrates that the trade is regulated by the same general legal oversights that govern other marketplaces (Usborne 2001). But the lack of transparency in the auction business means that players can exploit loopholes to manipulate and stimulate prices in a manner that would be illegal in other financial marketplaces. Regulations that prohibit insider trading in the stock market, for example, have no equivalent in the art auction trade. The auction system is characterized by practices that can restrict market efficiency and have an adverse effect on the quality of information available to buyers. Reported prices and auction house valuations assume great importance for many buyers due to the difficulty of obtaining information outside the system that shows which is the ‘best’ art to buy. Buyers who place particular emphasis on the investment potential of the art they acquire seek the validation of other bidders and interpret auction results and bidding activity at auction as unambiguous indicators of an artwork’s real value, even where they are unaware of other players operating in the market to further their own interests. Bidders assume that the price they pay for art at auction is validated by the valuations of the underbidders, those that kept the bidding going. But the auctioneer’s art of initiating bidding include undisclosed vendor bids, secret reserves, bids ‘off-the-chandelier’ or ‘off-the-wall’, and many lots being hammered down and treated as if sold during the auction, even when the lot has failed to sell. This serves to exaggerate competition, and encourage a buyer to bid even in the absence of another genuine bidder (Ashenfelter 1989). There may not be a single genuine bidder in the room, but the art auctioneer will use all their skill to give the impression that genuine bids are being made. Even where the auctioneer is not expressly making a vendor’s bid, when he or she ‘calls’ for a bid it can be difficult for all but the most seasoned auction veterans to determine whether or not there is another bidder in the room. Commission, or absentee, and telephone bids also provide auctioneers with another means of disguising vendor bids, or to give the impression there are other active bidders; they can make it appear there are telephone, or ‘on the sheets’ commission bids. It is also impossible to determine whether the person placing a bid may have an ulterior motive in doing so. As stated by former Director of Christie’s Australia, Roger McIlroy: ‘[i]t’s a time-honoured profession of people within the art market to try to play manipulative games 301

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with specific artists’ (Safe and Holgate 2001). The practice known as ‘ramping’ is an aggressive tactic undertaken to artificially inflate an artist’s auction values and it may be undertaken by anyone who has an interest in inflating an artist’s auction prices, such as a speculator, dealer, collector, or an artist and his or her family. As ramping is generally understood, someone holding a stockpile of work by a particular artist submits work to auction and bids it up to prices that exceed the auction estimates, even though during the early stages the ramper may have to buy many, if not all, of the artworks back themselves. The auction system’s lack of transparency makes this possible; agents are able to mask their activity through established practices such as absentee or commission bidding, through telephone bidding, or using proxy-bidders in the auction room (de Coppet and Jones 1984). The intended outcome of ramping is to establish precedent-setting prices that cause auction houses to lift their estimates. If successful, the seller’s stockpile increases dramatically in value, and rising estimates and ‘record-breaking’ prices attract media attention, encourage genuine bidding and provide an opportunity for the seller to divest him or herself of the stockpile of work at newly inflated prices. Ramping has a historical precedent; during the second half of the nineteenth century speculative activities saw it develop in France; Émile Zola described the technique of using multiple sales to raise prices at Hôtel Drouot, the auction house in Paris (Green 1987; Jensen 1994). Ramping can also be undertaken by primary- or secondary-market dealers to lift the prices of artists whose work they sell in their galleries. Their intention is not to resell a stockpile in the auction market but to establish new auction benchmarks to justify lifting their gallery prices for particular artists. As described by influential Australian dealer, Rob Gould, in an interview (Hart 2002): Gould:

You can play games at auctions, it’s an unregulated market … You could, say, put a painting into an auction and bid it up yourself because you’ve got an exhibition of works by that artist coming up. These things happen. Interviewer: You mean the vendor would buy it at the inflated price to inflate that artist’s price? Gould: Exactly. That happens. Primary-market dealers can, and some do, act to ensure their artists’ work sells for a reasonable price if it appears at auction. This is essentially a defensive mechanism to protect gallery prices, and involves bidding for works at auction and, where necessary, buying works themselves rather than have them sell at prices that reflect poorly on their artists’ gallery prices. To compensate for the fact that many artists’ primary-market prices are not reflected in their auction values, dealers bolster prices to boost buyer confidence and ensure that their gallery prices are not undercut. Paul Durand-Ruel used the auction market to bolster the prices of his Barbizon school and impressionist artists by buying artworks himself that appeared at auction rather than have them sell for low prices (Rewald 1986: 197–202; Green 1987). During the boom of the late 1980s, New York dealer Mary Boone, who represented artists Julian Schnabel and David Salle, bought works at auction to maintain high auction prices (Watson 1993: 368). The concern for consumers is that these activities do cause volatility; when London-based dealer Anthony d’Offay retired, the prices for the contemporary German artists he represented dropped suddenly. D’Offay was known to buffer prices at auction (Vogel 2001). Dealer Betty Parsons once said: ‘if a dealer has one of his artist’s paintings up for auction and he’s afraid the price will drop, then he’ll go and protect its value by buying it back. I’ve done that, and so has every dealer’ (de Coppet and Jones 1984: 30). A similar technique may be used to buoy buyer confidence and demand in the primary market. Apocryphal tales abound of ‘red dots’, or ‘sold’ stickers placed on gallery or fair catalogues

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when works are not, in fact, sold. The most high-profile recent case of self-interested parties investing in an artwork occurred in 2007. After announcing the sale of Damien Hirst’s For the Love of God, the £50 million diamond-encrusted platinum skull, to ‘unknown’ investors (Hoyle 2007), it was discovered some time later that the consortium of ‘investors’ included Hirst himself, his dealer Jay Jopling, his manager, Frank Dunphy, and Russian collector, Victor Pinchuk, who owns a large collection of Hirst’s work (Ruiz 2009). Dealers boost prices at auction and in the commercial marketplace because they are an important source of information for many art buyers who tend to accept the auction record as an unambiguous indicator of which is the ‘best’ art to buy. This is also true of buyers in the primary market, who may use auction records to assess an artist’s investment potential. But these prices establish precedents that are used to set future values; regardless of how altruistic the intention, if those prices have been stimulated or manipulated so that they no longer reflect genuine demand or true competition, the market will not have the depth to ensure sustainability.

Ethical conundrums It is perhaps only after this extensive but by no means exhaustive description of the activities of participants in the artworld that it is possible to consider the complexities facing public galleries and museums in formulating guidelines for staff and outlining ethical conduct. Such efforts attempt to minimize the degree to which the conduct of the public institution can influence the art market and restrict the capacity to gain from their ‘insider’ status. For at the same time as museums and art galleries fulfil their mission to present the best of contemporary art to a public, the very act of so doing credentials works and adds value to the asset holdings of those who happen to own work by that artist. The most overt reference to the interconnectedness of the academic pursuit and public education role of a gallery is the prohibition on competing with the museum through personal collecting activity, in other words seeking to purchase work that would otherwise have been collected by the museum (ICOM 2006; MOMA undated). This prohibition relates to a clear ‘conflict’ of interest, but perhaps more problematic and widespread is where there is confluence of interest. This can occur when a museum enters into a loan arrangement to exhibit a collection of works. The owner of the collection may benefit significantly through their work gaining the imprimatur of a gallery exhibition. When Robertson observed ‘when private collectors or dealers decided to lend a work for exhibition to a public institution, their works of art benefit from the resulting exposure, validation, and enhanced reputation’ (2005c: 242); he might well have had the example of the Saatchi Sensation Exhibition in mind. A proposed exhibition of the Saatchi collection to be held at the National Gallery of Australia was cancelled based on the exhibition being substantially funded by Saatchi himself and that this might be seen to compromise the independence of the gallery (Vogel 1999 and see Fraser 2001).These issues were made explicit in a recent debate concerning the New Museum in New York. Michael Pepi (2009) summarized the extensive criticism of an exhibition of contemporary art from the private collection of Dakis Joannou, who happened to also be a member of the board of trustees. The criticism was extensive and varied in its focus, but as Pepi notes: ‘all of whom generally acknowledged the notion that hanging art in a museum can add value to the objects on display and boost the prestige of the collector’ (Pepi 2009). It is not surprising then that there is a degree of scepticism about the impartiality of the public sector curator, as according to Robertson ‘they are the high priests of the art market and also its messengers, relaying information between agent and principal’ (2005b: 30). Indeed as we have seen recently in Australia there are close connections between public sector curators and commercial gallery interests. Colloquially referred to as ‘curatorgate’ the matter concerned a 303

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property dispute that followed the break-up of a long-standing domestic relationship between a curator at a state government gallery and a commercial gallery owner. In the course of the dispute and subsequent litigation the close interconnections between the two worlds of the public gallery and the commercial gallery were highlighted. This leads to the consideration of an appropriate ethical framework for those operating in this highly influential role of credentialling art and artists. Although not alleged in this particular case, Chong (2005) has noted the role that public galleries can play in building the reputation of artists and in turn influencing the prices that can be charged for their work: ‘contemporary artists seek to exhibit at state funded institutions as the means to validate their work, which can lead to higher prices charged by the commercial dealers’ (p. 86). He notes the potential ethical issues that emerge from the varied and simultaneous roles played by those working in the artworld who ‘wear different hats spanning the private–public divide: curating a temporary exhibition at a public institution, writing reviews for an art magazine, and offering advice to buyers as a consultant to a commercial dealer’ (p. 86). In financial or stock market circles the term ‘insider trading’ might be used; Chong neglects to mention that many of the artworld actors are often prolific owners of art by the very artists whose careers and reputations they are building. In any other sector observations such as that of Iain Robertson (2005c: 241) that ‘collectors and critics together with the public sector work together to create future prices’ would give rise to concern if not regulatory intervention.

Further reading Alloway, L. (1984) Network: Art and the Complex Present, Ann Arbor, MI: UMI Research Press. Thornton, S. (2009) Seven Days in the Art World, London: Granta.

References Alloway, L. (1984) ‘Art magazines and the art market’, in Alloway, L., Network: Art and the Complex Present, Ann Arbor, MI: UMI Research Press. Ashenfelter, O. (1989) ‘How auctions work for wine and art’, Journal of Economic Perspectives, 3 (Summer) 23–36. Ashenfelter, O. and Graddy, K. (2003) ‘Auctions and the price of art’, Journal of Economic Literature, 41 (3): 763–797. Baumol, W. (1986) ‘Unnatural value or art investment as floating crap game’, American Economic Review, 76(2): 10–14. Becker, H. S. (1982) Art Worlds, Berkeley: University of California Press (republished in 2008). Botti, S. (2000) ‘What role for marketing in the arts? An analysis of arts consumption and artistic value’, International Journal of Arts Management, 2 (3): 14–27. Calvert, J. (2008), ‘Hirst dealers bolster prices at record sale’, Sunday Times, London, 21 September: 7. Caves, R. E. (2000) ‘Artists starving and well fed’, in Creative Industries: Contracts between Art and Commerce, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 73–86. Chong, D. (2005) ‘Stakeholder relationships in the market for contemporary art’, in Robertson, I. (ed.) Understanding International Art Markets and Management, London: Routledge, 82–102. Cowen, T. and Tabarrok, A. (2000) ‘An economic theory of avant-garde and popular art, or high and low culture’, Southern Economic Journal, 67 (2): 232–253. Crane, D. (1987) The Transformation of the Avant-Garde, Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Danto, A. (1964) ‘The art world’, Journal of Philosophy, 61 (19): 571–584. de Coppet, L. and Jones, A. (1984) The Art Dealers, New York: Clarkson N. Potter. Dickie, G. (1974) Art and the Aesthetic: An Institutional Analysis, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Dorward, N. (1987) The Pricing Decision: Economic Theory and Business Practice, London: Harper and Row. Fairley, G. (2009) ‘Reframing the Biennale: 2010’, Journal of Contemporary Art, 15: 11–14. Fillis, I. (2010) ‘The tension between artistic and market orientation in visual art’, in O’Reilly, D. and Kerrigan, F. (eds) Marketing the Arts, Abingdon: Routledge.

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Fraser, A. (2001) ‘A “Sensation” Chronicle’, Social Text 67, 19 (2): 127–156. Goetzmann, W. N. (1993) ‘Accounting for taste: art and financial markets over three centuries’, American Economic Review, 83 (5): 1370–1376. Green, N. (1987) ‘Dealing in temperaments: economic transformation of the artistic field in France during the second half of the nineteenth century’, Art History, 10 (1): 59–75. Hart, B. (2002) ‘Gould standard’, Herald Sun, Melbourne, 27 July, W02. Hoyle, B. (2007) ‘Hirst’s diamond-encrusted skull goes to unknown investors for 50 million pounds’, The Times, 31 August. International Council of Museums (ICOM) (2006) Code of Ethics for Museums, Paris: ICOM. Jensen, R. (1994) Marketing Modernism in Fin de Siècle Europe, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Joy, A. and Sherry, J. F. (2003) ‘Disentangling the paradoxical alliances between art market and art world’, Consumption, Markets and Culture 6 (3): 155–181. Mei, J. and Moses, M. (2002) ‘Art as an investment and the underperformance of masterpieces’, American Economic Review, 92 (5): 1656–1668. Museum of Modern Art (MOMA) (undated) The Museum of Modern Art Code of Conduct, New York: MOMA. Pepi, M. (2009) ‘The New Museum Controversy’, ArtWrit, vol. 1, December, available at http://artwrit. com/VOL1/03.html (accessed 22 October 2012). Rewald, J. (1986) ‘Durand-Ruel: 140 years, one man’s faith’, in Gordon, I. and Weizenhoffer, F. (eds) Studies in Impressionism, Boston, MA: Harry N. Abrams, 197–202. Robertson, I. (2005a) ‘Introduction: the economics of taste’, in Robertson, I. (ed.) Understanding International Art Markets and Management, London: Routledge, 1–9. Robertson, I. (2005b) ‘The international art market’, in Robertson, I. (ed.) Understanding International Art Markets and Management, London: Routledge, 13–36. Robertson, I. (2005c) ‘The current and future value of art’, in Robertson, I. (ed.) Understanding International Art Markets and Management, London: Routledge, 228–259. Rosen, S. (1981) ‘The economics of superstars’, American Economic Review, 71 (5): 845–858. Ruiz, C. (2009) ‘Fourth stakeholder in Hirst’s skull revealed’, The Art Newspaper, London, 9 June. Safe, G. and Holgate, B. (2001) ‘The deal of the art’, The Australian, Sydney, 6 January, 22. Stallabrass, J. (2006 [1999]) High Art Lite: The Rise and Fall of Young British Art, London:Verso. Stiglitz, J. E. (1987) ‘The causes and consequences of the dependence of quality on price’, Journal of Economic Literature, 25 (March): 1–48. Thornton, S. (2009) Seven Days in the Art World, London: Granta. Throsby, D. and Hollister, V. (2003) Don’t Give Up Your Day Job: An Economic Study of Professional Artists in Australia, Redfern: Australia Council. Usborne, D. (2001) ‘Former Sotheby’s Chairman guilty of price-fixing’, The Independent, London, 6 December, 9. Velthuis, O. (2005) Talking Prices: Symbolic Meanings of Prices on the Market for Contemporary Art, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Vogel, C. (1999) ‘Australian museum cancels controversial art show’, New York Times, 1 December, available at: http://www.nytimes.com/1999/12/01/nyregion/australian-museum-cancels-controversialart-show.html (accessed 22 October 2012). Vogel, C. (2001) ‘Postwar art fails to meet expectations at Christie’s’, New York Times, 14 November, available at: http://www.nytimes.com/2001/11/14/nyregion/postwar-art-fails-to-meet-expectationsat-christie-s.html. Vogel, C. (2007) ‘Director of Guggenheim resigns to join Sotheby’s’, New York Times, 31 July, available at: http://www.nytimes.com/2007/07/31/arts/design/31gugg.html?_r=0 (accessed 26 October 2012). Watson, P. (1993) From Manet to Manhattan: The Rise of the Modern Art Market, London:Vintage. Wilson-Anastasios, M. (2008) ‘Art at auction: price formation and the creation of superstars in the Australian art auction market’, unpublished PhD thesis, University of Melbourne. Wolff , J. (1981) The Social Production of Art, London: Macmillan.

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28 MUSEUM MARKETING Measuring retail performance Sandra Mottner

Introduction Today’s art museums are primarily publicly oriented which includes the appreciation of the art collection, learning about art, as well as preserving existing art and enhancing the creation of new art. As Rentschler (2007) notes, the museum definition is shifting from a functional to a purposive definition, that is: “Museums are for people to enjoy and to learn from collections which are held in trust for society” (p. 13). Consequently the marketing strategies, and thus the goals and objectives, of art museums reflect this more purposive and publicly oriented description of a museum which extends to an art museum’s retailing ventures. Today, museum retailing includes not only a store at the museum, but online sites, catalog/ direct mail programs, licensing and wholesaling of product, off-site store outlets and special retailing efforts associated with temporary exhibits. These retailing operations help the museum raise money as well as further the museum’s overall mission. Part of the strategy of a museum store is to fulfill the main mission of the museum collection itself – to learn from the collection and gain a greater appreciation of the art in the case of art museums (Mottner and Ford 2005). Successful strategy fulfillment, whether financial or more publicly oriented, is greatly assisted by periodical measurement of the museum stores’ performance. Performance measurement helps to keep staff on track towards goal achievement and enables them to adjust strategies. This applies to both financial and more mission-based strategies. Consequently, the purpose of this chapter is to outline how to measure the performance of art museum retailing strategies. As art museums have changed, many are seeing their role as less passive and are moving to a more experiential form of appreciation of the art – in some cases where the visitors even take part in the appreciation or even the creation of the art. Art museum stores become part of the overall visitor experience because the store sells tangible products that go with the visitor, thus extending the visitor experience or education. The learning and appreciation often networks to friends and family of the art museum visitor through gifts, cards, coffee table books, Internet viewings, etc. Suddenly, the museum retailing professional is considering how to measure more than sales, cost of goods sold, inventory turnover and other common retail measures. They are grappling with measuring the “amount of learning that is occurring through the products that are sold in the art museum store or the experience in the store itself.”

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Performance measurement is becoming more important in nonprofit organizations (Bennett 2007) because it influences strategic decisions and allocation of resources. Decisions about allocation of resources including funding for merchandise, display costs, packaging, staff training and other store expenses cost money. Decisions on how to fund these activities and at what levels can depend upon how well the museum store is performing in different areas and what the strategic goal or objective is. A general trend toward more and much better performance measurement is based on the ability to get good data more easily than in the past and is coupled with the need for most organizations to know more about the return that is being delivered from various marketing activities, including retailing (Srinivasan and Hanssens 2009).

Museum store goals, strategies and tactics The goals of most art museums include education, collection and conservation and may extend to research, exhibition, interpretation, a cultural center or social instrument (Alexander 1996). Indeed, the art museum may be a source of a leisure experience, entertainment or learning (Lockstone 2007). Art museum goals should be mission based and the result of mission-based strategies and tactics. Museum stores serve to raise funds with which to support museums’ missions. However, museum stores help to fulfill other goals including education and appreciation of the art, and are therefore an extension of the museum experience or social cause (Belfiore and Bennett 2008). Depending upon the goals of the art museum and the goals of the art museum retail operations, periodic measurement of the retail performance is critical to determine if strategies and tactics are working well. Performance measurement then leads to strategy enhancement, change or revision to improve subsequent performance. Using the management by objectives approach espoused by Kotler and Kotler (2008), performance measurement must be tied to strategic goals as well as the environment in which the strategy is implemented. Museum retail strategies are usually broken into two parts: (1) financial strategies, and (2) education, appreciation, enjoyment (Mottner and Ford 2005). Financial strategies are aligned with producing the greatest net cash contribution. However, to get to net contribution there are numerous retailing strategic choices used to make the contribution as large as possible. The conundrum for many museum retailers is that some of those strategies directly conflict with the strategic goal of making the museum store more educational. Balancing the two strategies can result in excellent results if properly managed. Implementation of the museum’s retail marketing strategy includes the form of retailing, such as location of the store(s), types of retailing ventures, square footage devoted to the store, merchandise mix, product development, display, buying strategies, private label practices, staff training and expectations, store leadership choices, involvement of collections and curatorial staff in product development and display, alignment with special exhibitions, pricing tactics, staffing levels, control of shrinkage (theft and loss), and design of web page and ease of ordering online, to name just some retail tactics. Each of these retailing tactics is used to achieve specific objectives and can be measured. The museum retailer is challenged with also measuring objectives that are normally not part of retailing tactics, for example educating their audience through products, product information, display or interpretive selling. Given the numerous variables, measuring art museum retail performance is somewhat challenging. The objective of this chapter is to provide guidelines to performance measurement options. Not all measures are needed in all cases. Some measures may be used 307

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more often than others. However, what is most important is to align the performance measures to the overall strategies and objectives of the retailing operation within the context of the art museum.

Retail performance measurement overview Measurement of retail performance in the non-museum world is accomplished through a variety of measures usually around overall strategies, store strategies and merchandise strategies. There is no single measure for assessing marketing performance (Ambler and Roberts 2008). “For-profit” retailers and their analysts use ROA (Return on Assets) to determine a retailer’s period to period performance as well as compare with the industry. ROA takes two major retailing strategies used by most “for-profit” retailers (Levy and Weitz 2012): high gross margin (hence higher net profit margins) with lower turnover or low gross margin (low prices) and higher inventory (asset) turnover. However, this measure, while important in comparing retailer to retailer and year to year results, is not commonly used in the museum store field. Similarly, “same store sales” is used by large retailers, particularly those who open and close a number of stores in a chain annually. This measure is only important to those art museums with multiple retail venues. Market share, a major performance measure used in all of marketing, can be tricky for the inexperienced or for those without good customer or market data. Measurement information is provided in Table 28.1, however the difficulty is measuring “the market.” To measure the market means the retailer must know the substitutes for the visit to the art museum and hence the museum store. Is it other art museums, other museums or other experiential or leisure activities and their retailing options? Does the “market” constitute other regional retailers? How big is the region? Strategically determining this is an important step in an art museum’s strategies, but getting data is often problematic. At the strategic and tactical level, retailers measure net sales, gross margin, Cost of Goods Sold (COGS), net profit and inventory turnover. Merchandise inventory (usually measured at cost in the USA) is one needed piece of data. Inventory turnover, or the number of times that the entire retail operation turns inventory in a given period (usually a year) is a key ratio for measuring the performance of retailers. Inventory turnover is not only used to compare with previous performance and goals, but is also a measure that retailers use to determine their ability to buy more merchandise, that is “open to buy.” Another merchandise-related responsibility is pricing, which can result in a higher gross margin. At first glance it is better to have a higher gross margin percentage than a lower one. However, if the gross margin is too high the pricing that caused it may result in slow selling inventory. Gross margin is a simple calculation (see Table 28.1) and is stated in currency or a percentage. Retailers use net sales (revenues less returns and discounts) and the cost of the goods sold to determine gross margin. One of the important components of net sales is the amount of markdowns that are taken off the retail price. Markdown goods are likely to sell faster, thus freeing up money for the retailer to purchase new, hopefully better selling merchandise. However, most retailers have benchmarks for markdowns and larger retailers negotiate with suppliers to fund markdowns. For most retailers the cost of goods sold dollars includes the freight charges of receiving the merchandise.This can be a significant amount in some cases and many retailers use the “landed cost” from which to determine their prices. One piece of information not available on financial reports, but used to help control inventory and/or maximize sales is the “sell through analysis.” This is calculated by determining how many pieces of a given SKU (Stock Keeping Unit), or grouping of SKUs, have been sold in a 308

Table 28.1 A menu of quantitative measures Measurement description

Purpose of measure

Data needed

Frequency

Sales revenue

Benchmark against goals and/or prior periods

Daily/Monthly/ Quarterly/Annually

Gross margin $ and %

Benchmark against goals and/or prior periods Benchmark against goals and/or prior periods Control expenditures – and assess efficiency of costs

Net sales (sales less discounts and returns) for each form of retailing, and category of merchandise Net sales less landed cost of goods Net sales less gross margin Expenses such as payroll, selling supplies, promotions, etc. for a given period and net sales for same given period Net sales or gross margin divided by the net square footage

Essential financial measures

Cost of goods sold (COGS) $ and % Expenses as a % of sales

Sales per square foot and gross margin per square foot Sales per FTE

Benchmark against goals and/or prior periods Efficiency measure of sales force – often used to adjust schedules

Inventory turnover

Effective use of investment in merchandise

Net contribution $ and % of sales

Effectiveness of overall financial retailing strategy

Customer focused measures Revenue per visitor Effectiveness at capturing needs of museum visitors Capture rate Effectiveness at capturing needs of museum visitors Market share Determine the percentage of customers in a given market Average transaction Determine amount of average sale Number of items per transaction

Determine the amount of “up-selling”

Monthly/Quarterly/ Annually Monthly/Quarterly/ Annually Monthly/Quarterly/ Annually

Annually

Weekly/Monthly/ Net sales divided by Annually average employee hours per week divided by 40 Monthly/Annually Sales at COST divided by average inventory at COST Monthly/Annually Contribution to the museum after COGS and expenses are subtracted from net sales Net sales divided by number of museum visitors Number of retail transactions divided by number of museum visitors % of sales of retail operation as a % of the market’s sales Net sales divided by number of transactions for a given period Number of items sold divided by number of transactions

Monthly/Annually

Monthly/Annually

Annually

Weekly/Monthly/ Annually Weekly/Monthly/ Annually continued

Sandra Mottner Table 28.1 A menu of quantitative measures (Continued) Measurement description

Purpose of measure

Data needed

Member discounts as a Determine attractiveness of Number of member percentage of sales and membership reward and transactions and dollar number of discounted effect on store finances amount of member transactions discounts Merchandise focused measures Sell through analysis Sales trend of a specific item % of beginning stock of an SKU sold in a given period Break-even analysis Determine feasibility of new Cost of developing a product introduction new item divided by the sales price minus the cost of the item Education, appreciation and experiential measures Innovative items Level of innovativeness and Number of new SKUs relationship to the as a % of all SKUs museum’s collection Educational items Level of education offered Number of educational SKUs as a % of all SKUs Training hours per FTE Knowledge level of staff Hours of training/ number of staff Educational value of Number of options as a Level of options for visitor packaging, signing and % of all like items learning/appreciation product information handouts

Frequency Monthly/Annually

Daily/Weekly/Monthly

As needed

Quarterly/Annually Quarterly/Annually Annually Annually

given period of time. The information comes from sales reports generated by a POS (point of sale) inventory system or by receiving records and physical count.This is a very quick and helpful measure for knowing if an item is selling as expected, is exceeding it and needs a backup order, or is lagging behind its estimated sales and needs to be redisplayed, or marked down. Sales per square foot is used to evaluate store performance. While net selling square footage (not including storerooms and offices) is often used for the entire store, categories of merchandise can also be assessed for their productivity per square foot. Further, categories of merchandise can be compared using gross margin per square foot. This is helpful for retailers who need to know the optimal amount of space to devote to different categories of merchandise (Chen et al. 1999). Net sales can also be used in comparison with the number of sales people (usually measured in Full-Time Equivalents or FTEs). Other operating costs such as utility expenses, rent, supplies, etc. as a percentage of sales can also be used to examine cost containment, efficiency and/or productivity. There are a number of measures used by retail buyers, such as Gross Margin Return on Inventory, Sales to Stock Ratio and others that are not covered here. These buying-related performance measures are generally used to determine open to buy and efficient ordering. The measurements above are known as “metrics.” However, retailers also use “analytics” to measure patterns in customer purchases that lead to changes in placement of goods (Levy and Weitz 2012) for example. A common analytic is the “market basket analysis” that has been made particularly easy through the use of scanner data in many large stores. Analytics are used extensively in evaluating online performance and tracking of customer behavior. Customer satisfaction 310

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is a more difficult measure and is a discussion that would best be addressed through the services marketing practices. Some retailers use Customer Lifetime Value (CLV) as a way to analyze customers. CLV measures the worth of a customer over time. Based on the analysis the retailer then targets customers who have higher lifetime value to the organization. Customer Profitability Analysis (CPA) is also used. The measurement of this information has been simplified by the ability to identify specific customers using tools based in CRM (Customer Relationship Management). Because of the integrated nature of the art museum visitor and the art museum retailing outlets these types of measurements are problematic at the art museum store. Not only the complexity of the environment in the museum setting (Holm et al. 2012), but the need to nurture long-term future relationships makes CLV and CPA inappropriate for museum retailers.

Performance data for the museum store The “for-profit” retailer uses financial data for analyzing much of their performance. The art museum store can use most of these financial metrics to evaluate their financial performance (see Table 28.1) although nonprofit financial statements are different than for-profit statements and the handling of inventory costs varies by country. However, the art museum store must also measure strategic goals such as education, appreciation and the experience. Collection of good information and data is key to performance measurement and is often challenging. This section will discuss the key financial and other statistical data that are most related to financial performance and then discuss ways of quantifying and measuring less financial or readily apparent statistical data.

Financial and statistical data The financial data needed by the art museum store for measuring its financial performance should be available on museum financial statements and is detailed in Table 28.1. Museum retailers need to be alert to keeping records of ancillary retail strategies such as holiday kiosks or stores that are off-site as well as retail opportunities associated with special exhibitions. It is important to know both the gross sales and net and what constitutes the difference. The art museum store needs to know the amount of membership discounts and employee discounts reduce the gross sales. The membership discount figure could be very significant in determining loyalty to the museum membership program. Returns and allowances for damages are usually deducted from gross sales. Measuring COGS on a monthly basis helps a retailer understand seasonal variations. The museum retailer is no exception. How it is calculated on a financial statement should be understood. Is it based on last year’s COGS percentage and adjusted at the end of the year? Is it taken directly off a POS system and therefore more reliable? Like COGS, inventory on hand at certain periods of time is highly dependent on the inventory management system being used by the retail enterprise and seasonal variations in sales. Smaller museums often have problems with getting some of these measures as well as allocation of expenses to the museum retailer. Beyond the financial statement, other data that are helpful include:

• •

Number of employees – usually stated in FTEs (full-time equivalents). Square footage of each store site – measured consistently as net square footage (without stock rooms, fitting rooms or offices) or gross square footage.

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• •

Sales in units and dollars of innovative items such as those that have been developed specifically for the museum store. These items can be indicators of the social or nonfinancial impact of the store (Garrido and Camarero 2010). Costs for the development of specific products. This information helps the retailer determine when the new product starts to contribute to the financial performance of the store using break-even analysis (see Table 28.1).

Finally, evaluating an art museum store relative to the museum provides essential information. Andoniadis (2010) recommends these key measurements: (1) revenue per visitor, (2) average transaction, (3) number of items per transaction, and (4) capture rate (p. 97). (Capture rate is the number of transactions compared with the number of museum visitors.)

Quantifying non-statistical indicators of strategies Measurement of non-financial strategies is not necessarily easy, but is important to the art museum store. Boorsma and Chiaravalloti (2010) note the insufficiency of financial figures alone as indicators of what contribution is being made by any part of an arts organization. Indeed, if one does not measure how well the store is performing versus its non-fundraising objectives then it is highly likely that the store will encounter mission drift. A common strategy for art museum stores is that of education. However, as Falk and Dierking (2000) note, that “people learn in museums is easy to state, harder to prove” (p. 149). According to Sheppard (2009: 8): Achieving educational goals is difficult to measure, in no small part because there is a great deal of disparity in what is considered an educational experience. Because museum store education is different from both the learning in a classroom and learning in the museum itself the words used to describe learning are vague and ambiguous such as, “wonder, excitement, engagement, discover and critical thinking.” Museum stores contribute to education through an informal learning process (Diamond 1999). As Diamond (1999) notes, there are a number of ways to assess learning performance in an informal learning setting. The most definitive method for assessing learning is pre- and postmeasures of knowledge but it is inappropriate in an informal learning setting. Indeed, learning about the museum’s collection or exhibit from a store’s perspective can take place outside of the museum store, long after the purchase is made and even by someone other than the purchaser. Also, the learning is probably linked to learning that started to take place in the museum itself. Other methods of tracking learning such as recall and recognition, interviews, etc. all tend to be impractical.The measurement of learning can only be determined through post-purchase survey results, internal assessments or proxies for measurement of learning opportunities. Post-visit surveys of a representative sample of store shoppers could measure the respondent’s perception of learning and/or degree of appreciation for the subject of the collection(s). Diamond (1999) gives some excellent guidelines here. However, using the method for a museum store has not been documented. Falk and Dierking (2000) recommend measuring museum learning in a “Contextual Model of Learning.” For the museum store this would equate to measuring the length of time a customer spends with a specific product, for example. Using this model in the art museum store is not a reliable measure due to other variables. A measure of educational performance of museum stores was developed by Mottner and Ford (2005) and uses eight attributes of the museum stores, as rated by the museum store manager.The eight attributes were measured

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The store helps visitors understand the museum’s collection/subject matter better

2

The store promotes visitor appreciation for the museum’s collection/subject matter

3

The store promotes visitor knowledge about the museum’s collection/subject matter

4

The store causes visitors to be more excited and enthusiastic about the subject matter of the museum’s collection

5

The store exposes visitors to the subject matter of the museum’s collection

6

The store helps visitors to learn about the museum’s collection/subject matter

7

The museum has greater educational outreach because people purchase items in the store

8

The store gives visitors additional access to the subject matter of the museum’s collection

Source: Mottner and Ford (2005: 834).

on a five-point Likert scale and reflected answers to the questions in Table 28.2. This is a good first indicator of educational value. A good set of indicators of educational value relies on proxies that measure the potential for achieving the educational objective of the art museum retailer. Measurements that assess the level of educational value in product offerings, educational packaging, level of sales force training and educational information opportunities provided can be obtained. This method implies that the more informative or how highly the product is related to the museum collection, the better the probable learning will be. Theobald (2000) proposes a well-tested regimen for achieving high levels of educational products through a committee approval process for new products which includes curators, collection experts as well as marketing and retailing staff.Additionally,Theobald (2000) suggests packaging that provides informational material, product information cards and training for museum store staff. Generally, the more an art museum store uses some of these educationally related practices the more learning will take place on the part of the visitor to the store. Interestingly, for-profit retailers measure the percentage of “private-label” goods in their assortment (Dabija et al. 2009) because private-label products tend to aid the loyalty of customers to the store. This has implications for repeat art museum visits with attendant increases in education, appreciation and financial support. Besides educational performance there are some other indicators that could be problematic for the art museum store manager. In particular, online programs need to be evaluated beyond their financial impact. Such things as stickiness of websites (Soat 2012), social contagion, relationships building, web-content analysis, etc. (Levine and Zahradnik 2012) are often problematic measures for the uninitiated. However, most companies that host websites can provide the number of times that viewers looked at the site (Bull 2009).

Implementing a performance measurement program Planning which metrics and analytics to use and then how often to measure them is essential. While availability of data and expense of getting data are factors, the most important criterion is that the metrics need to answer the question of whether or not the art museum store is achieving the organization’s mission and its mission-based strategic goals (Ambler et al. 2004). Kotler and Kotler (2008) recommend measuring performance in museums monthly, quarterly and annually. At the retail store level it is possible with point of sale registers and programs to do real-time assessment at the SKU level which can determine sell-through analysis. 313

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Educational measurement, on the other hand, might best be assessed on an annual basis. Each museum store manager and art museum management team need to assess the usefulness and cost of each measure taken. Some of the information is easy and not very time-consuming or expensive to collect. Other data, such as customer feedback, may take more time to collect and interpret and hence are assessed less often. Once performance measures of the museum store are made, how does one determine if the results of these calculations are good or bad? Well-developed strategic plans should include specific performance objectives.These can be benchmarks based on industry standards, prior period performance, competition, or computed relative to other strategies such as how popular a special exhibit is expected to be. One of the problems that the art museum retailer is likely to encounter as digital media and support systems become more accessible financially is that of having too much data. “Big Data” will be able to give researchers ways and means to analyze consumer behavior better than ever before (Barton 2012). The challenge will be whether the information is worth analyzing or not. However, as data become more available, the art museum store needs to become aware of and be able to use this data effectively. The art museum store, like all museum stores, becomes a more valuable player in the overall strategy of the museum when it can offer specific insights into the people who visit the store and therefore participate in the overall experience of the museum.

Further reading and resources American Alliance of Museums (formerly American Association of Museums) offers a number of books as well as other sources of assistance to member organizations. Access through: http://www.aam-us.org/. The Museum Stores Association (MSA) is an outstanding resource for information, conferences and connections with museum friendly vendors.They publish reports of aggregated museum store data periodically. They can be reached at: http://www.museumstoresassociation.org. An outstanding handbook for financial retailing performance data gathering and analysis is published by the MSA – a “must have” for the newer store manager and includes a CD with prepared forms and worksheets: Museum Stores Association (2010) Numbers by the Book: A Financial Guide for the Cultural Commerce & Specialty Retail Manager, Denver, CO: Museum Stores Association.

References Alexander, E. P. (1996) Museums in Motion: An Introduction to the History and Functions of Museums, Walnut Creek, CA: AltaMira Press. Ambler, T., Kokkinaki F. and Puntoni, S. (2004) “Assessing marketing performance: Reasons for metrics selection,” Journal of Marketing Management, 20 (3/4): 475–498. Ambler, T. and Roberts, J. H. (2008) “Assessing marketing performance: Don’t settle for a silver metric,” Journal of Marketing Management, 24 (7–8): 733–750. Andoniadis, A. (2010) Museum Retailing: A Handbook of Strategies for Success, Edinburgh: MuseumsEtc. Barton, D. (2012) “My, what big data you have,” Canadian Business, 85 (13): 14. Belfiore, E. and Bennett, O. (2008) The Social Impact of the Arts, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Bennett, R. (2007) “The use of marketing metrics by British fundraising charities: A survey of current practice,” Journal of Marketing Management, 23 (9/10): 31. Boorsma, M. and Chiaravalloti, F. (2010) “Arts marketing performance: An artistic-mission-led approach to evaluation,” Journal of Arts Management, Law, and Society, 40 (4): 297–317. Bull, K. (2009) “Making a success of online retailing,” in Alive to Change: Successful Retailing in Museums – A Collection of Essays, Edinburgh: MuseumsEtc. Chen, Y., Hess J. D., Wilcox, R. T. and Zhang, Z. J. (1999) “Accounting profits versus marketing profits: A relevant metric for category management,” Marketing Science 18 (3): 208–229.

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Dabija, D. C., Abrudan I. N. and Anetta, M. (2009) “Retail marketing instruments: An analytic approach,” Young Economists Journal, 7: 85–96. Diamond, J. (1999) Practical Evaluation Guide: Tools for Museums and Other Informal Settings, Lanham, MD: AltaMira Press. Falk, J. H. and Dierking, L. D. (2000) Learning from Museums: Visitor Experiences and the Making of Meaning, Lanham, MD: AltaMira Press. Garrido, M. J. and Camarero, C. (2010) “Assessing the impact of organizational learning and innovation on performance in cultural organizations,” International Journal of Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Marketing, 15 (3): 215–232. Holm, M., Kumar, V. and Rohde, C. (2012) “Measuring customer profitability in complex environments: An interdisciplinary contingency framework,” Journal of the Academy of Marketing Science, 40 (3): 387–401. Kotler, N. and Kotler, P. (2008) Museum Strategy and Marketing: Designing Missions, Building Audiences, Generating Revenue and Resources, San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Levine, H. and Zahradnik, A. G. (2012) “Online media, market orientation, and financial performance in nonprofits,” Journal of Nonprofit and Public Sector Marketing, 24 (1): 26–42. Levy, M. and Weitz, B. A. (2012) Retailing Management, New York: McGraw Hill Irwin. Lockstone, L. (2007) “Shape shifters – the role and function of modern museums,” in Rentschler, R. and Hede, A. (eds) Museum Marketing: Competing in a Global Marketplace, Oxford: Elsevier, 61–66. Mottner, S. and Ford, J. B. (2005) “Measuring nonprofit marketing strategy performance: The case of museum stores,” Journal of Business Research, 58 (6): 829–840. Rentschler, R. (2007) “Museum marketing: No longer a dirty word,” in Rentschler, R. and Hede, A. (eds) Museum Marketing: Competing in the Global Marketplace, Oxford: Elsevier, 12–20. Sheppard, B. (2009) “Grounded in research,” History News, 64 (4): 7–13. Soat, M. (2012) “The stickiness factor,” Marketing News, 46 (11): 6. Srinivasan, S. and Hanssens, D. M. (2009) “Marketing and firm value: Metrics, methods, findings, and future directions,” Journal of Marketing Research, 46 (3): 293–312. Theobald, M. M. (2000) Museum Store Management, Walnut Creek, CA: AltaMira Press.

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29 PRICING IN CONTEMPORARY MUSEUMS: THE STRATEGIC TURN Anne Gombault

Introduction Museum identities have been subjected to accelerated change over the last 40 years (Zolberg 1981; Anderson 1998; Gombault 2003). They have turned from institutions centered on collecting, preserving and exhibiting objects to institutions subject to market dynamics, redeploying their mission to different publics and a more diverse community.They now mix a traditional functional role (object-based) with a new purposive role (people-based) where the focus is on leadership and visitor services: to serve society and its development by means of study, education and enjoyment (Rentschler 1998; Zolberg 1994a; Weil 1990; Besterman 1998; Stephen 2001). They develop multiple activities and are accountable to a range of stakeholders (such as governments, boards of trustees, audiences, sponsors), becoming a hybrid cultural organization at the core of contemporary society issues. As a means and a consequence, they have known a huge managerialization and marketization in a highly competitive glocal context (Zolberg 1994b; Schuster 1998; Kotler and Kotler 1998; Zan 2006). In line with these changes, contemporary museums have reappraised their function and purpose, causing pricing to move from a peripheral issue to one of central importance, which tells a story about the museum and its organizational behavior better than any other variable. The goals of this chapter are to describe and analyze the “strategic pricing turn” in contemporary museums, thereby showing how some aspects of these pricing strategies mark the museums’ identity shift. This chapter presents a synthesis of results from extensive qualitative research on museum pricing decisions, published extensively in French and to a lesser extent in English. Three main pieces of research were conducted between 2001 and 2009 for the French Ministry of Culture, mainly in Europe, North America, and including some studies in South Asia and Australia (see methodology Appendix 29.1). The results show the growing role of strategic pricing in museums, as a key marketing variable, far from the traditional “tariff policy”; the unequal organizational learning of the strategic role of pricing among the international museum community; and the specific role played by free admission policy as a marker of this strategic pricing turn. A discussion about these results enables us to understand how this hybrid pricing model in contemporary museums denotes their hybrid organizational identity.

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Understanding the growing role of pricing in museums The museum world came fairly late to the notion of pricing. At first simply a minor variable, pricing gradually became a strategic variable in promoting the goals of the “museum as organization”1 (Gombault 2002, 2003).

Emergence of the notion of pricing strategy in museums Whether in the name of philanthropic patronage as in the United States or the nation state as protector and educator as in Europe, free admission is inherent in the very idea of museums. There are different reasons for this: collections are viewed either as collective property, or in any case as something that should be made available to all; the museum is first and foremost a place where the initiated can learn about art, and after that it is a tool for popular education. From the 1920s in France and throughout the twentieth century in Europe, museums introduced admission charges for economic reasons, to enable them to conserve their collections and/or buildings appropriately. And yet the spirit of free admission prevailed until the 1970s. Most museums opened their doors to the public for a symbolic admission fee and some still had free admission. They were sufficiently well financed through public subsidies or private funds and price was not a relevant management tool (Kotler and Kotler 1998: 264). Admission fees served a rationale of cultural policy. Introduced to maintain or enrich the collections, these charges remained modest and museums retained free admission on one or several days a week. Museums must be accessible to all. Pricing policy was based on this imperative which determined the level of admission charges, categories for reduced rates, exemptions, pricing schemes, which should also take account of the types of visit, regular, educational, social. It should be noted, however, that at the same time – and this is indeed paradoxical – the general public and the modern conception of the public did not lie at the heart of the representation of museums and monuments. In the last 40 years museums began, each at their own pace, to look very carefully at all the options open to them for increasing their funding by developing their own resources. This consisted mainly of charging for admission to their permanent collections, exhibitions and special events, merchandising and a range of other activities. Museums were coming under pressure from the drop in both public and private funding, their increased costs and the growing need for further development, and they looked to the market by introducing policies to democratize their different publics (Zolberg 1981). The phenomenon started in the United States: the general public became paying and active members of these institutions; assailed by advertising campaigns, they rushed to see the first great blockbuster exhibition-events in the 1960s. The phenomenon continued in the United Kingdom in the 1980s, then across Europe, where a large number of independent museums sprang up and public funding proved to be insufficient to cover the museums’ needs (McLean 1997: 156). As a result, more and more charges were introduced, and pricing decisions became increasingly sophisticated; furthermore, pricing became a strategic variable, enabling museums to achieve their objectives, the main ones being autonomy, growth or survival, and accessibility. Pricing here was defined as a value attribute of the exchange relationship in a wider sense than its economic conception: that of a social link, in other words, as an object of interaction between the museum and its different publics (Zeithaml 1988). Setting different admission prices at different levels, and taking all price-action decisions in accordance with these objectives, constituted a “pricing strategy” as defined in the pricing literature (Nagle and Holden 2002). This change was largely due to the museums’ desire for organizational autonomy. The material problems experienced by museums that were dependent on public subsidies and/or private funding led them to accept and/or seek more autonomy. In the Netherlands, Denmark and 317

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Belgium, museums were allowed to manage their expenditure and their revenue for themselves. Museums in Canada, like those in the United States, became more and more like cultural enterprises. In France, giving its largest museums the status of Etablissement Public Administratif allowed them a certain degree of management autonomy. Even in Italy, where until 1997 admission charges were taxes paid straight to the Treasury, museums gradually began to free themselves from central control: they now had a proper ticketing system, which they could choose to outsource to a private company. The main result of this organizational autonomy was that museums had the freedom to set their own prices; prices were no longer forced upon them, but they could determine pricing levels themselves. Prices became an instrument of museum strategy. They were not so much the expression of a political logic but rather that of an organizational logic within the market economy. In France, for example, the most innovative and the most dynamic pricing decisions were put in place by the most autonomous public museums, like the Centre National d’Art and the Centre Culturel Georges Pompidou from the 1980s, then from the 1990s, the Louvre museum, the Rodin museum, the Château of Versailles, the Musée d’Orsay, the Quai Branly museum, among others.

Features of museum pricing decisions Having realized that they could successfully call on the market in this way, museums then found their financial priorities shifting: the problem museums now faced was not how to increase their income but deciding how to do so while remaining true to their mission and meeting the expectations of the community. The pricing decision became a crucial lever to managing this wide gap between the museums’ two categories of tactical objectives: accessibility and generating income. In management terms this referred not, as was traditionally the case, to the volume of sales, but to the volume and diversity of visitor numbers; not profitability,2 as is the case in private enterprise, but rather attracting financial resources, including self-financing, in other words the rate at which expenses are covered by their own resources (which are not public or private subsidies). Thus price becomes an important variable in a museum’s financial strategy. The different pricing levels determine in part the amount of own income generated. One of the main problems is setting these different pricing levels, in particular pricing for their central offer (permanent collections) and for the peripheral offer (all the museum’s other activities), which are always distinct. Admission to the permanent collection may be paying or free; when there is a charge, this income recoups only a small or moderate (for the largest institutions) percentage of expenditure incurred. For peripheral activities, on the other hand, museums almost always charge, but the range of such activities varies; when they are developed to the full and depending on the products/services concerned, charges can cover a high percentage of expenditure incurred, or all expenditure or may even make a profit. Price also appears to be an important variable in a museum’s marketing strategy, which positions, segments and regulates. The price variable has been confirmed as a privileged fundraising and social tool in the changing museum context (Rentschler et al. 2007). It forms an integral part of the marketing-mix, in the same way as communication, product and distribution, or even more so as it is the only part that has a direct impact on resources. Museums started to learn about marketing when communication actions were first set up in the 1970s. Museums next realized, in the 1980s, that they really needed to work on the products/services they were offering. And it is only since the 1990s that they have truly begun to integrate distribution and price variables. It has proved essential to take these variables into account because museums were

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becoming more autonomous. In particular, museums themselves were able to put considerable effort into the question of pricing, given that they now had a margin for maneuver in this area in terms of decision-making. Setting museum admission charges is characterized by an offer rationale, which predominates (mimetic and self-referential decisions using methods based on direct and indirect competition, by comparison with their own product and on extrapolation).Visitors’ expectations are still not seriously taken into account, and decisions tend to be based on preconceived notions of the habits and representations of the different publics; notions which are not backed up in any way, however, except in the most professional and the most innovative establishments, which are discovering the strategic role of pricing (studies on segmentation, willingness to pay, measuring price elasticity, yield management, etc.). Museums set their prices according to the products/ services they provide and the different public segments that they identify, as a function of ability and willingness to pay, the benefits visitors hope to enjoy and the perceived value of the experience of each segment. Finally, membership schemes are becoming more and more sophisticated in their attempts to ensure visitor loyalty and they enable museums to learn about relational marketing. The different prices for peripheral products (temporary exhibitions, a range of cultural activities, partnerships, hiring out space, merchandizing, catering, various shops, network and digital contents, other services, etc.) are set according to different techniques which are to be found at different levels of complexity in all museums, due to the high level of organizational mimetism in this sector. The level of entry fees or the cost of the visit (including average spending on peripheral services or products) increases significantly in all museums that have learned to apply pricing strategy and, in addition, there is considerable organizational mimetism in price setting (because of the offer rationale mentioned earlier which means that museums tend to favor competition-based methods). Although museum admission charges generally remain fairly low compared with other cultural and leisure products (performing arts, cultural industries, other creative industries), few countries have been able to escape the catch-up that has taken place in relation to the particularly low entry fees that were charged before the 1990s, and museums revise their prices fairly frequently. The risk of a price escalation has not yet come to pass, even though it is a concern, despite the fact that no study to date has shown that an increase in admission fees would reduce the probability of new sectors of the public visiting museums. If we consider all segments combined, price remains a secondary barrier to boosting visitor numbers (O’Hagan 1995; Bailey and Falconer 1998; McLean 1997; Kirchberg 1998). Nor has any study shown that a price increase causes a drop in the number of potential visits – including those by regular visitors – and therefore does not encourage customer loyalty. There are numerous examples where an increase in admission fee was accompanied by higher visitor numbers, especially in the largest museums. Except for certain segments of the public (young educated people, for instance), price elasticity, or the sensitivity of prices to demand, is low, and visitor loyalty operates, even when prices go up, by implementing some original pricing formulas such as a range of membership schemes, packages, etc.

An unequal organizational learning of the strategic role of pricing If contemporary museums no longer consider price as a minor variable, its strategic role is unequally understood. The pricing strategy is all the more integrated because the organizational learning of the strategic role is high. Results of our research (Gombault 2002, 2013) show that this learning depends on two main factors: 319

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• •

the endogenous level of the pricing decision; the development of the peripheral offer.

The last case studies produced in 2008 and 2009 confirm these results previously formulated in 2002.

First factor of learning: endogenous pricing decision The diverse degrees of learning therefore seem to vary according to one factor: whether or not there is liberty to set prices. In the sample studied, this factor is determined by several elements: legal status, management method, size, but also the macro-culture of the museum, meaning its surrounding political, economic and cultural environment – and the cultural policy that ensues. This is illustrated in Table 29.1. When considering the ensemble of these parameters in the different cases studied, the different degrees of learning can be clearly identified in each country. These degrees of learning are illustrated in Table 29.2 on a continuum from little learning about pricing at one end to a great deal of learning about pricing at the other end. The degrees of learning of the strategic role of pricing vary according to country: high in the United States, Canada, the United Kingdom and Australia, for example, with a fairly endogenous price fixing; medium to low in Italy, France and Spain, for example, with a price fixing that is fairly exogenous, but tending towards endogenous. In recent years, the movement among certain European museums to achieve the management autonomy which was becoming so necessary for them explains to a large extent why the price variable has gradually escaped the clutches of political responsibility and is now included in the strategy of each institution. Nevertheless, although this change has long been in place in

Table 29.1 Endogenous price fixing: first factor in organizational learning of the strategic role of pricing

Legal status Management method

Little learning

Much learning

Exogenous price decision

Endogenous price decision

Public

Public and private Autonomous or independent management Entrepreneurial

Size

No autonomy Regulated Bureaucratic All sizes

Macro-culture/cultural policy

Interventionist

Average to large for public museums All sizes for private museums, but learning more extensive in large museums Liberal

Table 29.2 Degrees of learning of the strategic role of pricing by country Eastern Europe, East Asia, Western Europe, Australia, United Kingdom, Canada, United States Little learning Fixing mostly exogenous

Much learning Fixing mostly endogenous

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Box 29.1 The Canadian case of pricing decision: endogenous and innovative Canadian museums illustrate well the concept of price as an endogenous variable as they are the most innovative in terms of price-actions – as in other domains.3 Entry to the four national museums and their branches has been free since their foundation in 1988. Because of financial difficulties, this charging policy changed with the implementation of voluntary or obligatory admission fees. For example, in Quebec, the province that subsidizes museums the most, 60 percent of museums, exhibition centers, interpretation centers and eco-museums and 71.7 percent of museums, alone, charged admission in 19984 and fixed their prices autonomously. The policy of paid admission thus becomes part of a logic of economic rationality, assumed without question. In general, the Canadian museums, whatever their statutes, integrate the admission price as a variable of their strategy and, furthermore, they all have a marketing department or facsimile of such. They are the best representatives of the evolution of charging admission as this practice is gaining a strategic dimension, observed on an international scale.

the United States, for about ten years in Canada, in some of the large public museums and in most of the private ones, because of the policy of the Blair government in the United Kingdom, which implicitly obliged the national paying museums to return to free admission (despite retaining a pragmatic management model), added to the slow progress made by many small and medium-sized public museums as regards management autonomy, it is impossible to achieve homogeneity in our findings. Price determination in European public museums, unlike the private museums, still usually remains an exogenous variable, whose historic origin derives more from a political logic than from the marketplace (Anderson 1998; Been et al. 2002; Selwood 2007; Gombault 2013). If the museum tariff policy is too high, it is suspected of striking a blow against the museum’s identity and missions by trying to turn it into a tourist attraction or a cultural enterprise, in line with its own goals, and so it remains subjugated by a yoke of ideology, preventing institutions from making pricing a real management tool. More broadly speaking, the pricing decision is an essential element of control that trustees often want to retain over the museums: in the UK, this theme, among others, has emerged very clearly in the imposed return to free entry to national museums.5 In addition, representations of pricing at the heart of

Box 29.2 The French case of pricing decision: mostly exogenous but more and more endogenous in the largest museums In France, a wide range of tariff policies can be found, firmly anchored in cultural policy, with pricing decisions that are fairly exogenous, as a result of the museums’ administrative trustees, even though they are more open to a market logic. At national level, the law of 4 January 2002 now gives museums in France a great deal of latitude in determining prices, however the firm attachment of the museum world to maintaining equal conditions of access for all, especially young people, restricts their margin for maneuver. Pricing decision is tending to become endogenous in the major public autonomous establishments, with the Direction des Musées de France, which presides over the administrative boards of these establishments, ensuring that any increases in their admission charges are limited.

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Box 29.3 The Spanish case of pricing decision: mostly exogenous, except in Catalonia The admission prices of Spanish public museums at the beginning of the year 2000 (Fondation Interarts 2001) are determined by their administrative supervisors – central, regional or municipal. All revenues of these museums, including those called “autonomous” like the Prado, go to the coffers of the administrators that supervise them. The museums’ decision-making powers about pricing are non-existent or weak. Pricing policy in these museums, concerning the level of prices (relatively low) as well as reductions, is very slow to evolve. The granted reductions are part of a classic approach to price discrimination in museums. Only the Catalan museums, incidentally like other cultural institutions of the region, seem innovative and appear to be involved in the strategic evolution of the role of pricing: prices of public museums are increasing more than in the rest of the country and progressively coming closer to those of private museums; greater management autonomy which becomes evident in pricing decisions (for example, several museums in Barcelona present a perfect public–private hybridization in their management and fix their prices in an endogenous manner); first museums to propose priceactions still unedited in Spain, such as combined entry passes offering access to several museums, promotions in relation to the purchase of another service such as transport, telesales allowing visitors to buy their tickets from a distance and in advance.

European museums are generally negative. By its very nature antinomic to the notion of the museum, which is fundamentally attached to free entry, pricing is “a necessary evil” to compensate for inadequate public resources. Finally, and above all, the relevant actors have not yet mastered all the issues and mechanisms of this technique.6 However, even if guaranteed public funding does not edge museums towards this organizational learning – the most innovative museums in this respect have experienced or are looking in the future at some major financial problems – they need this tool, both from an economic and financial point of view, and also with regard to their mission and their identity.

Second factor of learning: development of the peripheral offer Research results show that the second factor of organization learning depends on the development of the peripheral offer. The strategic use of price is positively linked to the connection between pricing decisions of the core offer and those of the peripheral offer. This connection can be clearly identified since the peripheral offer, always including entry charges, is well developed. The connection can also be observed if the peripheral offer is initiated and developed in the museums that have free admission. By crossing the level of peripheral offer (developed/ limited) and admission policy of the core offer (charges/free), four configurations of organizational learning of the strategic role of pricing can be noted. These four configurations are illustrated in Table 29.3. Configurations 1 and 2 show that if there are admission fees associated with charging for the developed peripheral offer, it leads to a high level of organizational learning of the strategic role of pricing. The absence of admission fees does not necessarily hinder large museums. Therefore, even though the level of admission charges is not a condition for the implementation of a 322

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Table 29.3 Pricing adjustments between core and peripheral offers in museums: four configurations of organizational learning showing the strategic role of pricing

Charging developed peripheral offer

Charging core offer and including targeted and/or occasional free admission

Free core offer (or voluntary gift)

Configuration 1  High self-financing  Average to high integration of the pricing decisions of core offer and those of peripheral offer  Organizational learning of strategic role of high pricing

Configuration 2  Average to high self-financing  Average to high integration of the pricing decisions of core offer and those of peripheral offer  Organizational learning of strategic role of pricing from average to high

Large museums, public or private (e.g. Musei Vaticani, Guggenheim museums, Musée du Louvre, Royal Ontario Museum, Musée Canadien des Civilisations, National Palace Museum (Taipei))

Large museums: English, American, Australian, national (e.g. British national museums such as National Gallery, British Museum, Tate Gallery; in Australia, National Gallery of Victoria, Queensland Art Gallery) Large private museums ( J. Paul Getty Museum)

Average-sized and small dynamic private museums (e.g. Pointe-àCallière, Château Ramezay, Heide Museum of Modern Art) Charging little developed peripheral offer

Configuration 3  Weak to average self-financing  Weak to average integration of the pricing decisions of core offer and those of peripheral offer  Weak to average organizational learning of strategic role of pricing

Configuration 4  Weak self-financing  Weak integration of the pricing decisions of core offer and those of peripheral offer from zero to weak  Weak organizational learning of strategic role of pricing except if free admission is chosen in an endogenous manner (e.g. Museum of British Road Transport)

Small and average-sized museums, Small and average-sized public museums, or public or private (e.g. Museo private if totally financed by public or Poldi Pezzoli, Museo Civico private funds Archeologico di Bologna, Bata Shoe Museum, Fundació Antoni Tàpies)

development strategy in large museums but simply modifies its modalities, it also does not limit their organizational learning of the strategic role of pricing. It is the level of development of charging for the peripheral offer that appears to be the most important factor in the learning process, regardless of the size of the museum. It is through the management of numerous peripheral activities including price, usually fixed according to the criteria of the market, that museums best control this variable. Thus, in Configuration 3, even if museums require paid entry, the learning process of the strategic role of pricing remains limited, as long as their peripheral offer remains limited as well. In Configuration 2 the integration of decisions between core price offer and those of the peripheral offer will be higher when public financing is weak or diminishes. In 323

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this case, the pricing level of peripheral activities then acquires more weight in the financing of free admission. Finally, the sample only contains one example of Configuration 4, because the price management stakes in museums that set few prices are obviously weak. These are museums that are usually entirely subsidized, whose prices are set in an exogenous manner. Their organizational learning concerning pricing strategy is weak and their management, in general, is hardly innovative (Bagdali 1998). The Museum of British Road Transport is a counter-example in which free admission to all cultural activities was chosen in a strategic manner. This kind of ideal model, in which museum management is extremely dynamic with the implementation of a triennial marketing plan, is only possible through a close and solid partnership with public and/or private financiers. Configurations 1 and 2, on one side, and 3, on the other, can be distinguished by the level of organizational learning of the strategic role of pricing, either high or rather low. This difference has consequences for the mode of learning and on the process of pricing. In Configurations 1 and 2, learning is quite rapid, in close relation with the elaboration of the general strategy. This process of pricing which is planned, iterative and integrated, includes at least three steps: analysis, definition of pricing strategy, and implementation. In the most innovative museums in this area, for example, the Musée Canadien des Civilisations, the Royal Ontario Museum, Natural History Museum in London, or Heide Museum of Modern Art in Melbourne, Australia, more formalized processes have been observed, such as: definition of a general strategy for the museum, definition of marketing objectives, detailed study of clients and competitors, choice of optimal structures and price levels, fixation of prices and associated conditions, implementation of a monitoring system and review over time. This results in formation of a pricing strategy which is, relatively speaking, optimal. In Configuration 3, the organizational learning process is slower, incremental and empiric and corresponds to a “trial and error” approach. The process of pricing is not formalized and is used infrequently. Pricing strategy is emergent: identifiable a posteriori, it is neither conscious nor planned. Moreover, it is interesting to note that in the two types of configurations, regardless of learning level in the strategic role of pricing, organization mimicry and sometimes a process close to benchmarking, play a major role in this learning process. The size of the museum does not change anything in this circulation of savoir-faire – only that approach is, once again, more formalized – and small museums appear to be particularly reactive in importing and adapting the most judicious pricing-actions of their competitors.

Free admission policy as a paradoxical marker of museum pricing strategies Free admission is one of the founding principles of museums, and was an inherent part of their original identity, before being gradually abandoned by many museums in the twentieth century. Today, in a world where museums are resigned to or inspired by the fact that they have to look to the marketplace, if this is not already the case, free museum admission has returned to center stage: in the UK, where free admission to all national museums was reinstated in 2001, and elsewhere in Europe where various free entry measures have sprung up, e.g. the Netherlands, Sweden, France. How can we explain the paradox of this return to free admission? How is it viewed in museums? What is its role? Research results (Gombault 2013, 2010) show that the museum world has become pragmatic and the debate on free admission, and on museum pricing policies in general, has become a false debate, one that is purely ideological: because in today’s

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Table 29.4 Access to museums’ permanent collections, free or fee? Typology of arguments in the debate analyzed in the literature Fundamentalist arguments (pro free admission to museums)

Pragmatic arguments (pro entry fees, as free admission is incorporated as price-action)

Identity-based arguments (Besterman and Bott 1982; Bailey and Falconer 1998; Anderson 1998; Rentschler et al. 2007, among others)

Free admission is closely linked Museums have changed, and are with the very idea of the now more involved in exchange museum, with its original relations with their identity and making a collective environments and their publics. heritage available to all. By Two of the many dimensions to turning to the marketplace there this change are: first, the place of is a risk that museums will feel museums, and of culture in the need to abandon their basic general, in the field of leisure roles of conservation and and tourism, and second, receiving the public. reconciling culture with economics: museums have become organizations that need to be managed as well as possible, as they carry out their missions.

Political arguments (Falconer and Blair 2003; PrietoRodríguez and FernándezBlanco 2006, among others)

For museums: free admission For museums: free admission that financed by the museum’s they have not chosen (imposed trustees guarantees the level of by their trustees) hampers their public subsidy. For trustees: free managerial autonomy; free admission means being able to admission that they have chosen check that museums do indeed is a useful pricing strategy for fulfill their missions. marketing and financial objectives. For trustees: free admission is a cost, unless it is considered in the context of regional economic development.

Economic arguments

(1) Economic efficiency of free admission to museums (Feldstein 1991; Dickenson 1993; O’Hagan 1995; Selwood and Davies 2005; Prieto-Rodríguez, and Fernández-Blanco 2006; Steiner 1997) Applying an admission charge would not be efficient economically, by virtue of a null marginal cost of the additional visitor.

In contrast, admission charges: – bring in extra revenue to maintain or develop the products/services offered, improve their quality and cope with the increasing charges that result, at a time when public subsidies are being restricted or frozen. Moreover, an increase in admission charges is preferable to a drop in expenditure levels. – complement public funding and thus in particular they help limit fiscal pressures.

continued

Table 29.4 Access to museums’ permanent collections, free or fee? Typology of arguments in the debate analyzed in the literature (Continued) Fundamentalist arguments (pro free admission to museums)

Pragmatic arguments (pro entry fees, as free admission is incorporated as price-action)

(2) Direct and indirect impact of free admission to museums ( Johnson 2000) – Museum attractivity. – Positive externalities, especially through tourism.

– Free admission, when clearly explained, has a promotional effect on the products/ services a museum offers, but is not sufficient to make them attractive. – Admission charges do not prevent museums from generating positive external benefits for their regions.

Marketing arguments (Dickenson (1) Impact of free admission on visitor numbers 1993; Bailey and Falconer Effective in the short term but 1998; Kirchberg 1998; Martin Major: free admission would considerably increase visitor this effect is null to low in the 2002; Cowell 2007; for more numbers. long term without further details on the literature, cf. actions. Free admission is Gombault et al. 2006) secondary in creating and planning a visit. It is not the key requisite to increasing museum visitor numbers, which relies first and foremost on people’s commitment to this activity. (2) Impact of free admission on accessibility Major: admission charges Null effect if not combined appear to be the main obstacle with other actions: the main to democratic access to reason for people not to visit museums. museums is not monetary barriers, but psycho-social barriers. Accessibility requires other specific actions. (3) Free admission for all Free admission is for everyone, especially residents and the most disadvantaged sectors of the community.

This is most favorable for museum visitors already involved in visit activities, regular visitors, specific category visitors (teachers, seniors), tourists, whose willingness to pay is not particularly low.

continued

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Table 29.4 Access to museums’ permanent collections, free or fee? Typology of arguments in the debate analyzed in the literature (Continued) Fundamentalist arguments (pro free admission to museums)

Pragmatic arguments (pro entry fees, as free admission is incorporated as price-action)

(4) Perceived value of the museum, of the visitor experience and involvement in the visit Free admission enhances these aspects.

On the other hand, free admission may also detract from these aspects.Varied and contradictory opinions from different publics.

(5) Reality of the free admission Free admission gives unlimited The museum “price” from the point access to the museums’ central of view of the visitor-consumer, is offer, the permanent collections. not limited to the amount s/he has to pay to get through the door. As for all leisure activities, to this has to be added the effort made to get there, also the expenses associated with the museum visit and the effort put in during the visit.What museums have to offer is not limited to access to the permanent collections, but is made up of many paying services which really facilitate access to these permanent collections (exhibition, visits, talks, shops, etc.).

museums the spirit of free admission, historically linked to the museums’ very identity, has given way to the application of pricing strategies; because in this context, the old “free versus fee” debate, even if it is still going on, no longer makes any sense today, precisely because free admission is now a “price-action” incorporated into museum pricing strategies.

The terms of the old polysemic debate on free museum admission In the 1980s, there was an apparent contradiction in the notion of a museum that saw itself as democratic developing a pricing structure for its products and services; this was a museum emerging into the twentieth century. This contradiction was to spark off a passionate debate throughout the entire museum world (studied by Besterman and Bott 1982) on “free versus fee,” between those in favor (fundamentalists) and those against free admission (pragmatists), starting when admission charges were introduced at the beginning of the century and continuing until the 1990s, particularly in the UK, which became a testing ground for all pricing strategies. From analysis of the literature on this complex debate, in Table 29.4 we propose a typology of the different types of argument put forward: identity-based, political, economic, marketing.

An outdated debate: free admission within the museum pricing strategy In the twenty-first century, the free admission to museums debate no longer has meaning: since nowadays museums use pricing strategies into which free admission, even permanent, has already 327

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Box 29.4 Lessons from the British experience: free admission to museums, between politics and marketing Free admission or charges to see the permanent collections? For more than 30 years, national museums in the UK have been experimenting with the two systems, taking them as far as they could go. The various lessons that have been learned, some contradictory, have fueled ideological debate. In 2001, Chris Smith, Secretary of State for Culture, Media and Sport in Tony Blair’s Labour government, managed to impose permanent free admission on all national museums where charges were levied, some of which had become very dynamic cultural businesses, and were thus reinforcing the position of the national museums that had retained free admission when financial pressures were at their height in the 1980s. In the UK, free admission is clearly a historic issue, and its re-emergence was the result of a battle where the stakes were not only symbolic, but also political. The introduction of the measure itself was part of a cultural policy overhaul, which was to include the introduction of new governance for museums, and for the new Department for Culture, Media and Sport, in exchange for funding the free admission, it provided the opportunity to contractualize the museums’ objectives and assess their performance on the basis of the Labour government’s cultural policy criteria. From this policy, two key points emerged: the social impact of culture and the economic impact of culture, and the aim of transforming all sectors into creative industries to boost national development. Feedback from free admission between 2001 and 2007 revealed:

• that free admission had an indirect impact on developing museum attractivity with a massive increase in visitor numbers; this increase was not due purely to “price effect,” however, and there were important associated factors: major investment in new or renovated infrastructure, investment in programming, new services, increased marketing of temporary exhibitions for which there was always a charge, huge communication campaign around museums, all of which showed that the introduction of free admission had the effect of “museum promotion.” • that free admission had an indirect and contradictory impact on developing the social accessibility of museums as the measure was ineffective in tackling the social segmentation of visitors, effective in providing actions to enhance social accessibility, and with an unprecedented growth in peripheral products/services which were fee-paying and expensive, thus posing the problem of the iniquity of the measure for different publics (What is provided for whom?). • some conflicting repercussions relating to free admission across the entire museum sector, with the general promotion of the sector; the measure made the national museums into a creative industry with a high impact on tourism; an improvement in their performance due mainly to the necessary contractualization with the DCMS over their objectives in relation to the measure, but a loss of autonomy which was criticized by some as it involved having to comply with this supervisory authority, a new development in the UK; lastly, a drop in visitor numbers to second-rank museums, whether or not they retained the admission charge, which were less well known than the national museums. Source: Gombault (2010, 2013).

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Photo 1

Empirical evidence from participant observation: photos from London museums

Photo 2

Photo 3

Photo 4

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Photo 6

Photos 1, 2, 4: Science Museum, London; Photos 3, 5: Tate Modern, London; Photo 6: Victoria and Albert Museum, London. Copyright © Didier Doustin.

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been factored; pragmatism rules (Gombault 2002, 2010). Free admission then becomes a priceaction like any other, aimed at specific sectors of the public. In most countries today, museums charge for admission, with nevertheless some free entry on an occasional or regular basis, social, categorial, etc. In contrast, in the United Kingdom the national museums and some regional museums are free,7 but they offer extensive peripheral services for which there is a charge, like several of the major public or private museums in the United States.8 Subject like all other museums to financial pressures, yet wishing to remain true to their original ideology9 or having been forced to do so by Labour’s cultural policy of bringing back free entry to the national museums, British institutions invented a management model which was viable at their level: free admission as a marketing strategy. The free admission is funded in part by actively creating a commercial enterprise around the museum, which in return generates a greater volume of peripheral activity than if visitors paid an entry fee. Apart from a few rare exceptions, the free admission policy is nowadays no longer to be considered in isolation, but in the context of political balance defined by a given form of governance (profit-making or nonprofit-making, with or without managerial autonomy, with or without internally generated price fixing) and economic balance defined according to pricing for the central offer and for the peripheral offer. At the same time, both as a cause and consequence of turning to the marketplace, museums have effectively become democratized. And even over and above democratization, free admission has aided their social “accessibility,” and even their integration into the “social inclusion” society. Most museums throughout the world that levy charges, public or private, and even the most expensive (Gombault 2002; Rentschler et al. 2007), offer a range of free services to attract less well-off visitors and more generally those for whom having to pay would represent a barrier. They also all use “the metamorphic power” (Gombault et al. 2006) of free admission on the visit, as identified in research on this subject: promotional effect (free admission, when well publicized, makes people think of museums); process of deciding on a visit is simplified, it is easier, less expensive, on a trial basis and with an experiential dimension – in these ways, free admission removes psycho-social barriers for certain visitor segments, and these are barriers that really do restrict museum accessibility; ensure the loyalty of the biggest museum consumers, of regular and occasional visitors.

Conclusion This chapter provides a perspective within which pricing strategies in the contemporary museum are analyzed: their hybrid pricing model, mixing original access ideology, economic rationality and marketing pragmatism, is a clear marker of the hybridization of their actions, between public and private, between state and market, as identified by Schuster (1998), and then explored more deeply (Zan 2006; Frey and Meier 2006; Mairesse 2010). More generally, it marks their hybrid identity in transition between what they have historically been and what they are becoming (Gombault 2003). Various motivations for pricing decisions exemplify how they take into account their various missions, from the traditional focus on custodial conservation to the contemporary focus on educating and entertaining the public, both needing more financial as well as more marketing strategies. The growing role of pricing observed in Western contemporary museums could be interpreted as a result of their identity shift over the last 30 years: object-based to people-based, functional (curatorship) to purposive (experiential). More precisely, there are five discussion points arising from this international study. First, pricing strategies adopted in museums are markers of their economic hybridization between public and private logics (Schuster 1998), of their managerialization and their marketization or market orientation, typical of new public management (Pettigrew 1996). While they 329

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are still highly politically driven, museums are becoming more businesslike, with consideration being given to self-management, self-financing, consumer behavior and market studies that underpin actions in pricing. Second, entrance price has become less important while “other prices” grow, such as those of augmented products and services in shops, restaurants, car parks and such like. These augmented products and services are not always recognized as a part of the price package. It demonstrates the incomplete learning of the strategic role of pricing. Third, free admission is run by the most dynamic museums as a pricing strategy, within a portfolio logic. The hybrid model of pricing, incorporating politics and marketing motivations without any contradiction, is thereby perfectly illustrated. Free admission actions are the result of a subtle, surprising mix of a pragmatic public policy that protects the sacred, symbolic values of free access to permanent collections that belong to everyone, yet instrumentalizes it to increase museums’ performance and develop tourism, and the pragmatism of the marketing strategy applied by museums that are trying to generate resources by every possible means. Fourth, the growing role of pricing in museums marks how they consider themselves as creative industries (Caves 2000), generating sustainable cultural, economic and social development for their territories (Hamnett and Shoval 2003; Johnson 2000; Travers 2006), with a pragmatism characteristic of a new cultural economy (Throsby 2001). As part of this mix, they are familiar with marketing a district, a city, a region, a country. They foster creativity and ideas for commercial activities. Last, while we can make a theoretical generalization about these four lessons learned, we should nevertheless not ignore the strong influence that the national cultural context in general can have on museum pricing strategies. The current pragmatism of these strategies can also be interpreted more precisely in this context by political sciences and sociology than by management sciences. Each national situation is unique and we are reminded of Rose’s (1993: 9) comment that “borrowing a public policy that has proved successful elsewhere is not a guarantee of success.” The research agenda that led us to study this subject in other countries has shown that the English-speaking world differs from the rest of Europe and Asia, and yet that there are notable intrinsic differences in each country. Although we can identify a degree of pragmatism in museum pricing decisions in all these contexts, nevertheless different price strategies are designed.

Appendix 29.1 Methodology: an international comparison This chapter is based on three main pieces of in-depth research, conducted for the French Ministry of Culture and extensively published in French and partly in English: 1

2

3

Gombault (2002): between 2000 and 2001, qualitative study of pricing decisions in 22 museums, in Canada, the United Kingdom, Italy and Spain. Data have been produced through interviews with the managers and participant observation (mystery visitor type). Gombault and Petr (2006, ed.): between 2002 and 2004, in-depth multi-angle exploratory study in three qualitative phases and one quantitative phase, to identify the representations, intentions to use and behavior of the French concerning free entry to museums and monuments. Three meta-proposals emerged from the results, based on 27 hypotheses. Gombault (2010, 2013): qualitative study using narrative analysis, conducted in 1998 in the UK, comparing a documentary study, which included internal documents from museums

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and the DCMS, interviews with experts and officials, and participant observation in the museums of the “mystery visitor” type. This longitudinal research has been recently updated by new case studies in the United States, East Asia and Australia. In total, the paper is based on about 100 museum case studies. The sample of the case studies includes mainly well-known national or regional museums, in order to reflect the mainstream trends of pricing in each country. However, some smaller museums have been investigated when they presented an innovative aspect.

Notes 1 2 3 4 5 6

7

8

9

This expression is meant to emphasize the fact that museums have their own organizational process, over and above their institutional identity. Museums have no profit margin; they always make a loss. In an international survey, Maggi (1998) already showed that Canadian museums are more innovative from all points of view, and especially concerning their management. Figures extracted from: “Portraits statistiques des institutions muséales du Québec, 1998. Résultats d’enquête,” Rapport du Ministère de la Culture et des Communications de Québec, p. 14. See Box 29.4 hereafter. For example, yield or revenue management, which consists of fixing prices in order to optimize the revenue generated by the sale of a product or a service, on the basis of modeling and forecasting the behavior of demand by market segmentation in real time, is a technique little developed in the largest museums in Europe, even though this would be a very useful tool for them: they would be able to adjust prices according to the weather or to visitor numbers and use everything at their disposal; it would regulate visitor flow, enabling them to provide a better quality of visit, another aspect of “accessibility.” The most innovative Canadian and American museums do use this technique. In a similar vein, see Frey and Steiner (2012) for “Pay as You Go” as a new proposal for museum pricing. More than 50 museums benefited from the free admission policy in the UK, including the British Museum, the National Gallery, the Tate Gallery, the National Portrait Gallery, the National Galleries of Scotland, the Natural History Museum, the Victoria & Albert Museum, the Science Museum, the Imperial War Museum, the National Museum of Wales, the National Museums and Galleries on Merseyside, the Liverpool Museum and the Edinburgh Museum. For example, the National Gallery in Washington, the J. Paul Getty Museum in Los Angeles, the Metropolitan Museum in New York. Like other free museums, the Metropolitan Museum asks for a voluntary contribution for admission, which provides it with income. This system is readily criticized because it takes on a prescriptive aspect, with commercial pressure from the museum and social pressure in general encouraging visitors to contribute in any case; the museum is therefore only free in theory. The British Museum and the National Gallery were founded in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries by Parliament for the education of the people by free admission to the collections. Rich and poor alike were to be able to enjoy these works.

References Anderson, R. G. W., “Is charging economic?”, Journal of Cultural Economics, 22(2–3), 1998, pp. 179–187. Bagdali, S., Il museo come azienda. Management e organizzazione al servizio della cultura, Milano, ETAS, 1998. Bailey, S. J. and Falconer, P., “Charging for admission to museums and galleries: a framework for analysing the impact on access”, Journal of Cultural Economics, 22(2), 1998, pp. 167–177. Been, I., Visscher, K. and Goudriaan, R., “Fee or free ?”, Working Paper, Aarts De Jong Wilms Goudriaan Public, 2002. Besterman, T., “Saying what museums are for – and why it matters”, Museums Journal, April, 1998, p. 37. Besterman, T. and Bott,V., “To pay or not to pay”, Museums Journal, 82(2), 1982, pp. 118–119. Caves, R. E., Creative Industries. Contract between Art and Commerce, Harvard University Press, Cambridge, MA, 2000. Cowell, B., “Measuring the impact of free admission”, Cultural Trends, 16(3), 2007, pp. 203–224.

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Anne Gombault Dickenson,V., “The economics of museum admission charges”, Curator, 36(3), 1993, pp. 220–234. Falconer, P. and Blair, S., “The governance of museums: a study of admission charges policy in the UK”, Public Policy and Administration, 18(2), 2003, pp. 71–88. Feldstein, M., The Economics of Art Museums, University of Chicago Press, Chicago, IL, 1991. Fondation Interarts, “La tarification des services culturels publics en Espagne”, report for the French Ministry of Culture and Communicaton, Paris, 2001. Frey, B. S. and Meier, S., “The economics of museums”, in Victor A. Ginsburgh and David Throsby (eds.) Handbook of the Economics of Art and Culture, Elsevier, Amsterdam, 2006. Frey, B. and Steiner, L., “Pay as you go: a new proposal for museum pricing”, Museum Management and Curatorship, 27(3), 2012, pp. 223–235. Gombault, A., “L’émergence du prix comme variable stratégique des musées”, Les tarifs de la Culture, F. Rouet (dir.), La Documentation Française, Paris, 2002, pp. 165–222. Gombault, A., “La nouvelle identité organisationnelle des musées”, Revue Française de Gestion, 2003, pp. 189–204. Gombault, A. “Les faux enjeux de la gratuité des musées”, Le financement des services publics locaux, M. Long (dir.), L.G.D.J., Paris, 2010, pp. 91–108. Gombault, A., “La gratuité des musées, entre politique et marketing: les leçons du cas britannique”, Revue Française de Gestion, 1(230), 2013, pp. 83–100. Gombault, A. and Petr, C. (dir.), Bourgeon-Renault, D., Le Gall-Ely, M., Urbain, C., La gratuité des musées et des monuments côté publics, La Documentation Française, Paris, 2006. Hamnett, C. and Shoval, N., “Museums as ‘flagships’ of urban development”, in L. M. Hoffman, D. Judd and S. S. Fainstein (eds.) Cities and Visitors: Regulating People, Markets, and City Space, Blackwell, Oxford, 2003. Johnson, P., “The size–age–growth relationship in not-for-profit tourist attractions: evidence from UK museums”, Tourism Economics, 6(3), 2000, pp. 221–232. Kirchberg, V., “Entrance fees as a subjective barrier to visiting museums”, Journal of Cultural Economics, 22, 1998, pp. 1–13. Kotler, P. and Kotler, N. G., Museum Strategy and Marketing: Designing Missions, Building Audiences, Generating Revenue and Resources, Jossey-Bass, New York, 1998. McLean, F., Marketing the Museum, Routledge, London, 1997. Maggi, M., Advanced Museums: Innovation on Museums, Fondazione Rosselli, Torino, 1998. Mairesse, F., Le musée hybride, La Documentation Française, Paris, 2010. Martin, A., “The impact of free entry to museums”, Cultural Trends, 12(47), 2002, pp. 1–12. Nagle,T.T. and Holden, R. K., The Strategy and Tactics of Pricing: A Guide to Profitable Decision Making, Prentice Hall, Upper Saddle River, NJ, 3rd ed., 2002. O’Hagan, J., “National museums: to charge or not to charge?”, Journal of Cultural Economics, 19, 1995, pp. 33–47. Pettigrew, A., The New Public Management in Action, Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1996. Prieto-Rodríguez, J. and Fernández-Blanco, V., “Optimal pricing and grant policies for museums”, Journal of Cultural Economics, 30, 2006, pp. 169–181. Rentschler, R., “Museum and performing arts marketing: a climate of change”, Journal of Arts Management, Law and Society, 28(1), 1998, pp. 83–96. Rentschler, R., Hede, A.-M. and White, T. R., “Museum pricing: challenges to theory development and practice”, International Journal of Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Marketing, 12(2), 2007, pp. 163–173. Rose, R., Lesson Drawing in Public Policy: A Guide to Learning Across Time and Space, Chatham House, London, 1993. Schuster, J. M., “Neither public nor private: the hybridization of museums”, Journal of Cultural Economics, 22(2–3), 1998, pp. 127–150. Selwood, S., “The value of culture. On social effects of culture”, Keynote De Bailie, Nederland, 2007. Selwood, S. and Davies, M., “Capital costs: lottery funding in Britain and the consequences for museums”, Curator, 48, 2005, pp. 439–465. Steiner, F., “Optimal pricing of museum admission”, Journal of Cultural Economics, 21(4), 1997, pp. 307–333. Stephen, A., “The contemporary museum and leisure: recreation as museum function”, Museum Management and Curatorship, 19(3), 2001, pp. 297–308. Throsby, D., Economics and Culture, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 2001.

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Travers, T., Museums and Galleries in Britain. Economic, Social and Creative Impacts, London School of Economics, published by the National Museums Director’s Conference and Museums, Libraries and Archives Council, MLA Publications, 2006. Weil, S. E., “The proper business of the museum: ideas of things?”, Rethinking the Museum and Other Mediations, Smithsonian Institution Press, Washington, DC, 1990, pp. 43–56. Zan, L., Managerial Rhetoric and Arts Organisations, Palgrave-Macmillan, Basingstoke, 2006. Zeithaml, V. A, “Consumer perceptions of price, quality, and value: a means-end model and synthesis of evidence”, Journal of Marketing, 52(3), 1988, pp. 2–22. Zolberg,V., “Conflicting visions in American art museums”, Theory and Society, 10, 1981, pp. 103–125. Zolberg,V., “‘An elite experience for everyone’: art museums, the public and cultural literacy”, in I. Rogoff and D. Sherman (eds.) Museum Culture: The Politics of Display, University of Minnesota Press, Minneapolis, 1994a. Zolberg, V., “Art museums and cultural policies: challenges of privatization, new publics, and new arts”, Journal of Arts Management, Law, and Society, 23(4), 1994b, pp. 277–290.

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30 THE SPECIAL CHALLENGES OF MARKETING THE ARTS FESTIVAL Linda Wilks

Introduction Arts festivals encompass a wide range of genres and timescales and are situated in locations across the world in towns and villages, cities and rural greenfield spaces. According to Arts Council England (2012), art forms include dance, literature, music, theatre and visual arts. Multiple art forms may also be brought together or combined into multidisciplinary or interdisciplinary work under the umbrella of festivals. Arts festivals therefore vary substantially in content, although all are anchored to one or more of these art forms. In Europe, at the time of writing, the festival market as a whole is said to be mature in countries such as France, Germany and Belgium, rapidly developing in countries such as Poland, and emerging in the Baltic countries (Drury 2010). However, there have also been signs that festival markets in the UK and Australia in particular may be overheating, and commentators have suggested that niche festivals that know their market are most likely to gain success in future years. In Canada, the Ontario Ministry of Tourism, Culture and Sport identified cultural tourism as one of the fastest growing segments of the tourism market, investing $20m in festival and event programming and activities in 2011 (Ontario Ministry of Tourism Culture and Sport 2012). Consideration of arts festival marketing, including understanding the festival participant in particular, is therefore vital. An arts festival relies for its success on attracting participants. These participants include everyone from the festival audience and the artists, through festival staff and volunteers, to the sponsors and other funders. The people involved in local businesses and participating businesses will also be key players who should be considered within the marketing planning process, as should others, such as tourism officials and local authority policy makers. This chapter will highlight marketing concepts relating to attracting this range of participants to arts festivals. Underpinning the practical issues of attracting such a wide range of people to participate in arts festivals, it is also important to gain a deeper understanding of the processes that make marketing arts festivals so challenging. Long et al. (2004: 4) suggest, under a marketing heading, that it is important to understand the ‘personal, shared, conflicting and social meanings that people attribute to their experiences of and participation in festivals’, as well as to understand their 334

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motivations for attendance. This chapter will therefore highlight relevant theory which will help explain these processes. There is a role for marketing management school theory, such as Kotler et al.’s (2005) market segmentation, targeting and positioning, when considering arts festivals. However, in order to take account of the special features of events, classic approaches need to be developed and extended through an understanding of an experience marketing perspective, according to Getz (2012). Experience marketing acknowledges that attending an event is about being touched by dreams, emotions and pleasure, rather than focusing on the functional features and benefits of a product (Pine and Gilmore 1999). Devising effective arts festival marketing strategies requires knowledge of the special nature of the festival, as well as the special nature of the festival participant. This chapter will highlight theories and concepts which will help in understanding both of these elements.

The special nature of arts festivals The marketing of arts festivals brings special challenges and a range of issues to consider. Falassi (1987) emphasizes the role of the festival as a social phenomenon, confirming the notion that people are key to its operation. He acknowledges that the term festival may refer to a wide range of events, from religious ritual to profane feasting. Of particular relevance to this chapter is Falassi’s assertion that festivals may also be cultural events which facilitate the survival of the folk arts, as well as the celebration of the elite fine arts. The scale of the arts festival should be considered when planning its marketing. Arts festivals may fall into each of the scale-related categories of events proposed by Allen et al. (2008). The London 2012 Festival, the culmination of the London 2012 Cultural Olympiad, was a megaevent, which reverberated in the global media. A range of arts genres featured in this megaevent, including visual art, music, dance and theatre. The New Orleans Jazz Festival may be identified as a hallmark event, due to its identification with the ethos of the city; a ‘major event’ could be the Melbourne Festival, one of Australia’s flagship international arts festivals; while local and community events may be illustrated by events such as the annual Orkney Ceilidh Festival in Scotland. It should also be remembered that arts festivals encompass a range of genres, from so-called ‘high’ art to ‘low’ or ‘folk’ art (Bunting 2005), providing another dimension that will interact with scale. So, although the Cannes Film Festival will attract more visitors than the Belfast Film Festival, for example, and the Salzburg Festival shows opera on a larger scale than the Buxton Opera Festival, similar issues will need to be considered when planning their marketing. Remembering Arts Council England’s pinpointing of art forms, it is worth highlighting a range of contemporary festivals that feature each of these art forms. For example, the UK’s Hay Festival features literature; dance is the focus of the International Ballet Festival of Miami and the Sónar Festivals in Spain, Tokyo, São Paulo and Buenos Aries; festivals featuring theatre include the Edinburgh International Festival; music festivals include the Glastonbury Festival of Contemporary Performing Arts, Australia’s WOMADelaide and Sidmouth Folk Week in the UK; and the Glasgow International Festival of Visual Art is a key visual arts festival. Festivals need to be experienced to be consumed, with delivery and consumption of an event being inseparable (Bowdin et al. 2011). This emphasis on the intangibility of event consumption means that experiences of events vary from person to person and from moment to moment, according to Bowdin. Berridge (2007) also reminds event experience designers that all stakeholders, not just the audience, will be receiving the experience, so a range of needs should be identified and taken into account. In line with traditional services marketing theory (Lovelock and Wirtz 335

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2011), event experiences are said to have key characteristics which make their marketing and evaluation more challenging than product-based marketing. Event demand and supply will be affected by perishability: that is, tickets not sold by the day of the event cannot be used. The delivery of events in real time means that, like other services, their quality may also be affected by variables such as the weather and the health of the performers. These services characteristics bring special challenges to marketing the experience of arts festivals (Bowdin et al. 2011). A further key feature of the event experience that will affect marketing, is that an event is often short term and ‘pulsating’ (Van der Wagen 2007), with staffing levels exploding at the point of the delivery of the event. As well as also experiencing the event, being stakeholders or actors themselves, volunteers and staff members are responsible for the experience of other actors, often with very little training. Thus arts festivals need to attract a large number of temporary staff or volunteers, as well as to manage the expectations of the other actors, particularly members of the festival audience. Some arts festivals are enduring events that have been running regularly for many years, such as Verona’s opera festival, which started in 1936, while others are relatively new, such as the Fiddle Festival of Britain, which started in 2012. Still others are one-off festivals or clusters of special events, such as the celebrations that will take place in ’s-Hertogenbosch in 2016 to mark the 500-year anniversary of the death of Dutch painter Hieronymus Bosch, or the Benjamin Britten Centenary, planned for Aldeburgh in 2013. These different situations also affect marketing planning: enduring festivals may have a set of faithful dedicated attendees and other stakeholders, although retaining this dedication is still a challenge. Newer or one-off arts festivals will have the challenge of building audience and supporters from scratch or targeting other sets of event consumers to encourage the transfer of allegiance. A sense of cultural events being a space where people can escape from their day-to-day life has been identified in several studies as a feature of festivals and a reason for attendance (Schofield and Thompson 2007). Falassi (1987) suggests that festivals can be classified as rituals or rites, which may help arts marketers to understand and make use of this insight into motivation. Examination of Van Gennep’s (1960 [1908]) theory of ritual or rites, which was further developed by Turner (1969), is useful in this respect. Van Gennep identifies the middle or liminal phase of the rite of passage as a phase when everyday life is suspended, communitas, or community feeling, is intensified and attendees seem homogenized. Also of potential relevance to attendance at arts festivals is Turner’s highlighting of the third phase of the rite of passage, that of reincorporation to the previous cultural environment with elevated status. Hackley et al.’s (2012) application of Turner’s notion of liminality to the X Factor television talent show and its associated events is a clear demonstration of the usefulness of this theoretical concept within the context of events.The authors identify the possibility of transformation to a new status as underpinning the attendance of the contestants, linking this to the reassimilation phase that occurs after the liminoid phase. They also further highlight Turner’s three types of communitas, identifying existential communitas, or liminoid experiences, as the most appropriate for application to the X Factor, due to its characteristically fleeting, ‘happening’ feel. Although the X Factor show is acknowledged to be at the ‘popular’ or ‘low-brow’ end of the event spectrum, Hackley et al.’s analysis demonstrates aptly the application of Turner’s and Van Gennep’s theories and it is possible to see how these same theories could underpin analysis of all types of arts festival. On a similar theme to Turner’s (1969) concept of liminoid experiences, Bakhtin’s (1968 [1965]) carnivalesque also emphasizes escape. Bakhtin’s focus on the ways in which the riotous carnival, with its revelling, dancing and music, inverts the patterns of everyday life, also looks useful as key to highlighting the ways in which arts festivals might affect their social actors. Arts festival audiences look to these events to take them away from their day-to-day worries, sometimes,

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perhaps due to an event being under the festival umbrella, being encouraged to endure performances that challenge or disconcert them. Arts festival marketing may draw on the concept of liminality in two ways. First, by understanding the need to emphasize the chance to ‘get away from it all’ at the festival; and, second, by highlighting the opportunity to return to everyday life with the means to enhance status with talk of the festival experience. The carnivalesque emphasizes the wild element of festivals, where people dress in ways that are unusual for them and arts festival marketers could hint at the chance for people to ‘let themselves go’ and abandon themselves to passionate sensations. Hackley et al. (2012) hint, however, that the experience of existential liminality at events such as ‘secret’ rock festivals may only be ‘supposedly’ transgressive or unpredictable. In current times, health and safety regulations prevent arts festival organizers from encouraging lewd or law-breaking behaviour. Also worth noting alongside these themes are Lefebvre’s (1991 [1947]) theoretical conclusions that, as well as inverting everyday life, festivals also magnify and intensify people’s views and perspectives. They are an opportunity to tighten social links as people ‘in one fell swoop drew all that was energetic, pleasurable and possible from nature, food, social life and his own body and mind’ (Lefebvre 1991 [1947]: 202). Taking Lefebvre’s view, arts festivals could therefore be said to encourage people to amplify their identities and cultural tastes, as well as to let themselves go. Brown and Chappel’s (2007) discussion of the role of the ritualistic Robbie Burns Day celebrations in Australia in maintaining the identity of Scottish-Australians is interesting in this respect, for example. The authors remark that, although the festival is not as excessive in terms of inversions as the carnival in Rio or Trinidad, it does provide the attendees with an opportunity to suspend their daily routines and take part in rituals and festivities.

The special nature of the arts festival participant Arts festivals have special characteristics that should be considered as part of the marketing environment, as outlined above. The arts festival participant should also be considered, using various theories. It should be remembered that arts festival participants are not only the members of the audience, but that all the social actors need to be considered when marketing the festival.

Segmenting arts festival participants Market segmentation is one way of encouraging exploration of the nature of the arts festival participant. Market segmentation theory facilitates the grouping of consumers who share similar needs (McDonald and Wilson 2002). Once divided into homogeneous groups, consumers may be targeted in an economically effective way using different marketing mix strategies, according to McDonald and Wilson. Various ways of segmenting consumers have been suggested, including by socio-demographics or by consumer need (McDonald and Wilson 2002), by motivation (Bladen et al. 2012), by venue preference and attendance patterns (Clopton et al. 2006) or by geographical, psychographic or behavioural criteria (Visconti and Hughes 2012). McDonald and Wilson suggest that identifying key discriminating features of the sets of stakeholders, then establishing who buys what and why, are important steps along the way to segmentation, as well as remembering that segments need constant review over time. Oakes (2003) suggests that applying conventional segmentation strategies to jazz and classical music festivals, for example, will be a useful way to provide cultural organizations and sponsors with a clearer picture of the consumer segment that is attracted to a particular festival.

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Market segmentation of this type can be problematic for arts festivals, however. Problems may arise due to the special nature of events, as explained above, as participants are not buying a tangible product, as is assumed in modern marketing theory. Further problems with segmentation are pointed out by Visconti and Hughes (2012) who object to the rooting of segmentation, targeting and positioning theory in an assumption that market phenomena are objective and knowable entities. They suggest that preferences are seldom completely homogeneous, nor are they totally fragmented into micro-segments. Rather than traditional segmentation approaches, Visconti and Hughes prefer cultural segmentation, where consumption is acknowledged as the means to express identity, establish social links, live unique experiences and indulge in hedonic moments. Segmentation is co-constructed with the consumer using a dialogic rather than a linear process. Emotional, social and expressive valences of the company’s brand are leveraged for positioning. This approach is closer to the experience industry view of arts festivals. Bowen and Daniels (2005), in their study of a music festival in Virginia, USA, grouped attendees based on their motivation patterns, such as ‘just being social’, or ‘the music matters’, rather than demographics, for example. Crompton and McKay (1997) also grouped visitors to Fiesta San Antonio, Texas, into motive domains, such as ‘novelty/regression’, ‘recover equilibrium’ and ‘gregariousness’, again showing links to event experience concepts. Similarly, Schofield and Thompson (2007) found novelty and culture to be more important predictors of intention to return to the Naadam Festival in Mongolia than more traditional groupings of gender or age. With a particular focus on the market segmentation of arts events, further complications are identified by Clopton et al. (2006). They distinguish between arts events that are product-based, where the product comes first, with the audience identified subsequently, such as a chamber music ensemble; and those that are market-focused and therefore start with a target market which may be segmented through traditional means, such as a Broadway production. Both approaches still demand a greater awareness of market segments, however.

Beyond segmentation: postmodern marketing Towards the end of the twentieth century, marketing management school concepts started to be questioned by theorists with postmodern agendas. Firat and Shulz (1997) suggested that marketing management practitioners would need to reassess their assumptions about their marketing strategies. Postmodernism emphasizes the role of consumption rather than production, as well as the propensity for everything to be experienced in the ‘here and now’; according to Firat and Shulz, these are both relevant perspectives for consideration of the arts festival experience. Fragmentation of everyday life and the loss of commitment to a single way of being, a ‘bricolage’ approach, an emphasis on multiple representations of selves and preferences, is key to postmodernism, contrasting sharply with the assumptions at the base of segmentation theories. The momentary attachments and emphasis on the feel-good factor and the importance of the self-image of postmodernism could also be said to align with the experience of attending the arts festival. Brown (1995) explains that postmodern marketing is not a new theory, rather a critique of modern marketing theory. Brown’s (2006: 213) suggestion that the postmodern world is ‘a world of ephemerality, instability, proliferation, hallucination and, above all, chaos’, echoes Bakhtin’s (1968 [1965]) carnivalesque. Consumers will be loyal to images and symbols in a postmodern world, rather than brands, according to Firat and Venkatesh (1995). Research on arts participants that emphasizes the postmodern perspective may be identified. Kershaw (1994) stresses that theatre audiences are not consumers of the art, but rather

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co-producers of the performance, giving them the chance to become a collective. Similarly, Frith (2000) suggests that in folk or world music the traditional segregation of audience and performer is broken down, reflecting the postmodern condition in the blurring of musical borders and histories. Firmly rooted in a postmodern perspective, Maffesoli (1996 [1988]) suggests that consumers should be regarded as congregating in groups or ‘tribes’. The parameters of tribes may include appearance, fashion, or even ideology, according to Maffesoli (1988: 145), with the emphasis being on ‘empathetic sociality’ rather than ‘rationalized society’. The role of moods, sentiments and emotions again hints at links to the experience view of marketing arts festivals. Maffesoli’s view is that social life goes beyond individualism and is directed by successive feelings of belonging. Building on this approach, Cova and Cova (2002) suggest that community-based ‘tribal marketing’ is a better approach than a segmentation or a one-to-one approach to marketing. Illustrating this approach, Matheson (2005) paid special attention to Maffesoli’s tribe theories when studying festival producers and consumers of a Celtic music festival. Whilst questioning Maffesoli’s dismissal of the relevance of class groupings, Matheson did, however, discover an emphasis on social groupings in the backstage region of festival social space. Willems-Braun (1994) also emphasizes Canada’s fringe festivals’ role in providing the opportunity to express solidarity within social groups, as well as for social identities to be constructed.

Taste classifies: a Marxist approach Providing a bridge between modern segmentation and a postmodern emphasis on social values, Bourdieu’s (1984 [1979]) theory of cultural capital may provide help to arts festival marketers who wish to understand a festival’s social actors. Bourdieu’s approach defines social spaces within which the actors take up positions relative to the amount of capital they possess. According to Bourdieu, a person’s cultural capital is based on their level of cultural knowledge and competencies which enable them to interpret cultural activities and artefacts ( Johnson 1993). Cultural capital may take several forms: an embodied state, termed the habitus, which is learned behaviour which has been acquired through transmission in early family life so that it seems instinctive (Bourdieu 2002 [1986]). So, in theory, social actors who grew up in families with a high level of cultural knowledge in evidence will also attain high levels of cultural capital. Bourdieu linked high levels of cultural capital with a taste for the ‘high arts’, such as opera and complex classical music, and linked it to being a member of the higher social classes. Supporting the development of a habitus, objectified cultural capital, that is the possession of works of art, books and recorded music, also plays its part in helping to socialize family members into a certain type of cultural taste, according to Bourdieu. The third form of cultural capital, educational qualifications and honours, is said to indicate a taste for formal complexity and abstract representations. Furthermore, arts events are seen by Bourdieu as offering the chance for a select audience to demonstrate its ‘distinction’ or ability to decipher complex art, as well as for its members to show that they are comfortable in such a social setting (Bourdieu 1984 [1979]). Bourdieu’s cultural capital theory therefore suggests that arts festival marketers should tailor their targeting of festival consumers in line with the type of art on offer at the festival. So festivals that programme high art forms should target consumers of higher social class and with high education levels. Some support for Bourdieu’s theories may be found in studies of arts consumers. Waterman (1998b) discovered that the Kfar Blum Chamber Music Festival in Israel became a highly desirable event to attend due to its domination by an audience of elite groups. In another study, of the Salzburg Festival, Waterman (1998a) concluded that people used the arts as a way of establishing social distance between themselves and others. It was not the consumption culture 339

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that was important, according to Waterman, rather that attendance was a celebration of group values and shared mythologies.These two studies hint at the importance of social capital theories as another route to understanding the characteristics of arts festival audiences (Wilks 2011). Keaney (2008), drawing on the UK government-commissioned ‘Taking Part’ survey of cultural participation, concludes, like Bourdieu, that social status and education were key predictors of attendance at arts events. Keaney also concludes that ethnicity, gender, age and health are important variables, providing a reminder that modern segmentation methods may still be useful in the arts festival sector. Hinting at links to habitus, Keaney (2008: 110) suggests that the data show that psychological barriers to attendance, a ‘not for “people like me”’ attitude, prevents some people from attending arts events due to the perceived risk involved. However, Bourdieu’s theories are based on data collected in France in the 1960s and more recent studies elsewhere suggest that his conclusions may need to be modified for the present day. Prieur et al. (2008), for example, found that cultural capital in a contemporary Danish context seemed to be less related to traditional highbrow cultural consumption than in Bourdieu’s studies, although the authors did still find that lifestyles had a strong social structuring, rather than a tendency towards individualism. Wilks’s (2009) study of music festival audiences in the UK discovered that styling as culturally competent cognoscenti was not exclusive to fans of high art: attendees of popular music festivals also found complexity in their chosen music and demonstrated high levels of cultural knowledge about that genre.

Beyond Bourdieu’s taste classification: the omnivore Peterson and Kern (1996) and Chan and Goldthorpe (2007) questioned Bourdieu’s taste classifications, however, suggesting that higher status consumers tended to have tastes that ranged from highbrow culture to popular culture. Savage (2006) found that highly educated middleclass consumers had a taste for jazz and classical music, but also for rock music. Savage and Gayo (2011) deemed that Peterson and Kern’s ‘omnivore’ therefore marked the demise of the exclusive ‘snob’ cultures defined by Bourdieu. Savage and Gayo suggest instead that ‘expert’ taste communities are a better way of understanding the arts consumer. This therefore contrasts with Bourdieu’s conclusion that highly educated consumers tend to favour ‘highbrow’ arts. Alongside Bourdieu’s social class and education level indicators, Savage also identified age and ethnicity as determinants of music taste, suggesting that Bourdieu’s conclusions need to be modified and extended.

Focus on values Bourdieu’s approach to understanding arts consumers emphasized values, albeit with an orientation to social class. Key to marketing arts festivals could be said to be the aligning of the values of the festival with the values of the festival participant. A match of values is also vital when marketing to sponsors, volunteers and funders. The festival organizer will therefore need to first identify the desired values, then establish whether these values are being conveyed effectively to participants via the festival’s symbols and practices. Woosnam et al.’s (2009) study of the Winnipeg Fringe Theatre Festival, for example, concluded that values significantly predict motivations for attending the festival. Finkel (2010) notes, however, in her picture of the contemporary combined festival landscape, that many festivals appear to not have any strategy to implement the values of increasing audience accessibility or social inclusivity at which they say they are aiming. Finkel suggests that this

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could be due to apprehension about the possibility of alienating their current audience profile. This highlights the need for festival values to be carefully considered within the marketing process and decisions made about the most appropriate ways in which to position the festival. The smaller festivals in Finkel’s study espouse aims and objectives around community inclusion and local identity as ways to attract sponsorship or council funding too. Sharpe’s (2008) study of a community music festival also highlights the role of values in festival marketing. The festival was aiming to attract ‘mainstream’ attendees who might be inspired to adopt the alternative lifestyle practices that were promoted at the festival. However, it was found that, rather than attracting those who might be changed by the festival experience, instead it was dominated by attendees who already adhered to the values that were enacted at the festival. In a similar vein, Waterman (1998a) explains that festivals often unintentionally communicate a message of who is or is not ‘invited’ to the festival through the ways in which their brochures and advertisements are designed or worded. They might also be held in isolated places with a lack of affordable accommodation, thus further limiting the type of consumer who can afford to attend. It should also however be remembered that sponsors may actually support this strategy: the usual motivation behind sponsoring an arts festival is to reach potential consumers of their own product. Similarly, Quinn (2003: 330) highlights the ways in which festivals ‘carve out landscapes in their own likeness’, using them to ‘assert particular notions of identity’. Quinn identifies various previous studies of festivals that demonstrates that a festival’s symbols and myths were constructed in order to promote particular sets of values and practices.

Conclusion The marketing of arts festivals encompasses many challenges. The arts festival itself has special features which distinguish it from a shelf-based product. Arts festival participants may be examined and theorized in a variety of ways: this field is continually being considered and reconsidered. What is clear, however, is that arts festival marketers need to think carefully about their offering, their audience, and the variety of other stakeholders in order to present the festival effectively to the participants and potential participants.

Further reading Bourdieu, P. (1984 [1979]) Distinction: a social critique of the judgement of taste. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. (Key work that analyses the aesthetic choices people make in relation to the arts.) Brown, S. (1995) Postmodern marketing. Oxford: Routledge. (Ground-breaking text that sets out the case, in an entertaining and readable style, for the incorporation of postmodern perspectives into marketing.) Cova, B. and Cova, V. (2002) ‘Tribal marketing: the tribalisation of society and its impact on the conduct of marketing’, European Journal of Marketing. 36 (5/6) pp. 595–620. (Builds a marketing perspective upon Maffesoli’s account of the role of new forms of social connectivity and lifestyle cultures in postmodern consumption.) Oakes, S. (2003) ‘Demographic and sponsorship considerations for jazz and classical music festivals’, Service Industries Journal. 23 (3) pp. 165–178. (A demonstration of the application of modern segmentation strategies to researching festival audiences.) Pine, B. J. and Gilmore, J. H. (1999) The experience economy: work is theatre and every business a stage. Boston, MA: Harvard Business School Press. (Leading text on the role of experience in the creation of memorable events.)

References Allen, J., O’Toole, W., Harris, R. and McDonnell, I. (2008) Festival & special event management. 4th edn. Milton, QLD: John Wiley & Sons Australia.

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Linda Wilks Arts Council England (2012) Supporting artforms. Available at: http://www.artscouncil.org.uk/what-we-do/ supporting-artforms/ (Accessed 4 November 2012). Bakhtin, M. (1968 [1965]) Rabelais and his world. Cambridge, MA: Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Berridge, G. (2007) Events design and experience. Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann. Bladen, C., Kennell, J., Abson, E. and Wilde, N. (2012) Events management: an introduction. Abingdon: Routledge. Bourdieu, P. (1984 [1979]) Distinction: a social critique of the judgement of taste. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Bourdieu, P. (2002 [1986]) ‘The forms of capital’. In Biggart, N. W. (ed.) Readings in economic sociology. Malden, MA: Blackwell. pp. 280–291. Bowdin, G. A. J., Allen, J., O’Toole, W., Harris, R. and McDonnell, I. (2011) Events management. 3rd edn. Oxford: Elsevier. Bowen, H. E. and Daniels, M. J. (2005) ‘Does the music matter? Motivations for attending a music festival’, Event Management. 9 pp. 155–164. Brown, L. and Chappel, S. (2007) ‘Celebrating Robbie Burns down under’. In Aitchison, C. and Pritchard, A. (eds) Festivals and events: culture and identity in leisure, sport and tourism. Eastbourne: Leisure Studies Association. pp. 135–150. Brown, S. (1995) Postmodern marketing. Oxford: Routledge. Brown, S. (2006) ‘Recycling postmodern marketing’, Marketing Review. 6 (3) pp. 211–230. Bunting, C. (2005) ‘Social stratification of cultural consumption: a policy response from Arts Council England’, Cultural Trends. 14 (3) pp. 213–216. Chan, T. W. and Goldthorpe, J. H. (2007) ‘Social stratification and cultural consumption: music in England’, European Sociological Review. 23 (1) pp. 1–19. Clopton, S. W., Stoddard, J. E. and Dave, D. (2006) ‘Event preferences among arts patrons: implications for market segmentation and arts management’, International Journal of Arts Management. 9 (1) pp. 48–59. Cova, B. and Cova, V. (2002) ‘Tribal marketing: the tribalisation of society and its impact on the conduct of marketing’, European Journal of Marketing. 36 (5/6) pp. 595–620. Crompton, J. L. and McKay, S. L. (1997) ‘Motives of visitors attending festival events’, Annals of Tourism Research. 24 (2) pp. 425–439. Drury, J. (2010) The European festival market report. Available at: http://www.festivalinsights.com/wp-content/uploads/European-Festival-Market-Report-2010-web21.pdf (Accessed 21 October 2012). Falassi, A. (1987) ‘Festival: definition and morphology’. In Falassi, A. (ed.) Time out of time: essays on the festival. Alburquerque: University of New Mexico Press. pp. 1–10. Finkel, R. (2010) ‘“Dancing around the ring of fire”: social capital, tourism resistance, and gender dichotomies at Up Helly Aa in Lerwick, Shetland’, Event Management. 14 (4) pp. 275–285. Firat, A. F. and Shultz II, C. J. (1997) ‘From segmentation to fragmentation: markets and marketing strategy in the postmodern era’, European Journal of Marketing. 31 (3) pp. 183–207. Firat, A. F. and Venkatesh, A. (1995) ‘Liberatory postmodernism and the re-enchantment of consumption’, Journal of Consumer Research. 22 (3) pp. 239–267. Frith, S. (2000) ‘The discourse of world music’. In Born, G. and Hesmondhalgh, D. (eds) Western music and its others: difference, representation, and appropriation in music. Berkeley: University of California Press. pp. 305–322. Getz, D. (2012) Event studies: theory, research and policy for planned events. 2nd edn. Abingdon: Routledge. Hackley, C., Brown, S. and Tiwsakul, R. (2012) ‘The X factor enigma: Simon Cowell and the marketization of existential liminality’, Marketing Theory. 12 (4) pp. 451–469. Johnson, R. (1993) ‘Editor’s introduction: Pierre Bourdieu on art, literature and culture’. In Johnson, R. (ed.) The field of cultural production: essays on art and literature. Cambridge: Polity Press. pp. 1–25. Keaney, E. (2008) ‘Understanding arts audiences: existing data and what it tells us’, Cultural Trends. 17 (2) pp. 97–113. Kershaw, B. (1994) ‘Framing the audience for theatre’. In Keat, R., Whiteley, N. and Abercrombie, N. (eds) The authority of the consumer. London: Routledge. pp. 166–186. Kotler, P., Wong, V., Saunders, J. and Armstrong, G. (2005) Principles of marketing. 4th edn. Harlow: Pearson Educational. Lefebvre, H. (1991 [1947]) Critique of everyday life. 2nd edn. London:Verso.

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Challenges of marketing the arts festival Long, P., Robinson, M. and Picard, D. (2004) ‘Festivals and tourism: links and developments’. In Long, P. and Robinson, M. (eds) Festivals and tourism: marketing, management and evaluation. Doxford: Centre for Tourism and Cultural Change. pp. 1–14. Lovelock, C. and Wirtz, J. (2011) Services marketing: people, technology, strategy. 7th edn. Upper Saddle, NJ: Pearson Prentice-Hall. McDonald, M. and Wilson, H. (2002) The new marketing: transforming the corporate future. Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann. Maffesoli, M. (1988) ‘Jeux de masques: postmodern tribalism’, Design Issues. IV (1 & 2, Special Issue) pp. 141–151. Maffesoli, M. (1996 [1988]) The time of the tribes: the decline of individualism in mass society. London: Sage. Matheson, C. M. (2005) ‘Festivity and sociability: a study of a Celtic music festival’, Tourism Culture and Communication. 5 (3) pp. 149–163. Oakes, S. (2003) ‘Demographic and sponsorship considerations for jazz and classical music festivals’, Service Industries Journal. 23 (3) pp. 165–178. Ontario Ministry of Tourism Culture and Sport (2012) Results-based plan briefing book 2011–2012: priorities and results for 2011–12. Available at: http://www.mtc.gov.on.ca/en/about/rbp_2011_12_results_ based.shtml (Accessed 21 October 2012). Peterson, R. A. and Kern, R. M. (1996) ‘Changing highbrow taste: from snob to omnivore’, American Sociological Review. 61 (5) pp. 900–907. Pine, B. J. and Gilmore, J. H. (1999) The experience economy: work is theatre and every business a stage. Boston, MA: Harvard Business School Press. Prieur, A., Rosenlund, L. and Skjott-Larsen, J. (2008) ‘Cultural capital today: a case study from Denmark’, Poetics. 36 (1) pp. 45–71. Quinn, B. (2003) ‘Symbols, practices and myth-making: cultural perspectives on the Wexford Festival Opera’, Tourism Geographies. 5 (3) pp. 329–349. Savage, M. (2006) ‘The musical field’, Cultural Trends. 15 (2–3) pp. 159–174. Savage, M. and Gayo, M. (2011) ‘Unravelling the omnivore: a field analysis of contemporary musical taste in the United Kingdom’, Poetics. 39 (5) pp. 337–357. Schofield, P. and Thompson, K. (2007) ‘Visitor motivation, satisfaction and behavioural intention: the 2005 Naadam Festival, Ulaanbaatar’, International Journal of Tourism Research. 9 (5) pp. 329–344. Sharpe, E. K. (2008) ‘Festivals and social change: intersections of pleasure and politics at a community music festival’, Leisure Sciences. 30 (3) pp. 217–234. Turner,V. W. (1969) The ritual process: structure and anti-structure. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Van der Wagen, L. (2007) Human resource management for events: managing the event workforce. Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann. Van Gennep, A. (1960 [1908]) The rites of passage. Chicago, IL: Chicago University Press. Visconti, L. M. and Hughes, M. U. (2012) ‘Segmentation and targeting reloaded’. In Peñaloza, L., Toulouse, N. and Visconti, L. M. (eds) Marketing management: a cultural perspective. Abingdon: Routledge. pp. 295–314. Waterman, S. (1998a) ‘Carnivals for elites? The cultural politics of arts festivals’, Progress in Human Geography. 22 (1) pp. 54–74. Waterman, S. (1998b) ‘Place, culture and identity: summer music in Upper Galilee’, Transactions of the Institute of British Geographers. 23 (2) pp. 253–268. Wilks, L. (2009) ‘Initiations, interactions, cognoscenti: social and cultural capital in the music festival experience’, PhD thesis. The Open University. Wilks, L. (2011) ‘Bridging and bonding: social capital at music festivals’, Journal of Policy Research in Tourism, Leisure and Events. 3 (3) pp. 281–297. Willems-Braun, B. (1994) ‘Situating cultural politics: fringe festivals and the production of spaces of intersubjectivity’, Environment and Planning D: Society and Space. 12 (1) pp. 75–104. Woosnam, K. M., McElroy, K. E. and Van Winkle, C. (2009) ‘The role of personal values in determining tourist motivations: an application to the Winnipeg Fringe Theatre Festival, a cultural special event’, Journal of Hospitality Marketing & Management. 18 (5) pp. 500–511.

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31 THE FLUIDITY OF VALUE AS A SOCIAL PHENOMENON IN THE VISUAL ARTS MARKET Chloe Preece

Introduction How to define and value a piece of art are questions that have preoccupied some of the greatest philosophical minds in history. Plato, Aristotle, Kant and Hegel, to name only a few, have all set out aesthetic theories to try and answer these questions. It is no wonder that Theodor Adorno introduced his book Aesthetic Theory with the claim that “it is self-evident that nothing concerning art is self-evident” (1998: 1). The meaning of the term ‘art’ is by no means fixed, as any exploration of the annals of art history makes clear; what is considered ‘good’ art and the criteria to judge it have changed considerably through time. In fact, the idea of the ‘artist’ as a creative, producing a special category of objects called ‘works of art,’ is a relatively modern one stemming from the Italian Renaissance. More recently, since Duchamp’s dismissal of traditional notions of art and the work of the artist, anything can be legitimately classified as ‘art.’ In line with this, the “institutional definition of art” as set out by George Dickie (1971) has argued that ‘art’ is a sociological category and therefore anything art schools, museums and artists define as art is considered art regardless of formal definitions. Therefore objects could become ‘works of art’ by being placed in the context of art (for example in a museum) as evidenced by Duchamp’s urinal. In this process the object acquires all the associations that define art, and is valued as such socially, culturally and economically. The valuation process on which the arts market is structured therefore depends on socially constructed notions of ‘art’ and ‘artists.’ This is why we can distinguish between the physical attributes of an art object and its identity-status as an ‘artwork.’ So, for example, a painting by Raphael has a physical existence as an oil painting on canvas which is separate from its identity as a masterpiece ‘work of art.’ This is due to the fact that the values attached to the work come from its context in terms of the larger art movement, genre or artistic era and location as well as the artist’s whole oeuvre or ‘body of work.’ This is demonstrated when a painting attributed to an Old Master is found to be a forgery and therefore plummets in financial value due to its reattribution. Its aesthetic value is unchanged but due to its historical value being reassigned, the financial value decreases substantially. Our pleasure in the work may be enriched by what we think we know of the artist, how we imagine it fits into the story of the artist’s development which is subsequent to the pleasure of the qualities on display, proof that we are buying into

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more than just the aesthetic qualities of the work. How art works are defined as such and how they are valued is therefore a complex process involving a range of actors. This chapter will examine this process to provide an understanding of how value is created in the visual arts market, arguing that this hinges upon the relationship between the artist, their career and the work they create in line with Saren and Tzokas’s (1998) view of the ‘pluri-signified’ product, whereby value emerges from the interaction between the supplier, the object and the buyer, in a continuously negotiated relationship.

An uncertain art world As the art market is unregulated, anyone can call themselves an artist. Indeed, as Velthius ( 2005 ) describes in his economic–sociological study of the art market, there is little transparency in the art market and, due to the complexity of its value systems, there is a considerable lack of understanding of the market’s workings, even by the actors working within it. Artistic careers have been shown to be characterized by a high level of uncertainty, autonomy and personal responsibility for career development, a lack of clear career trajectories and an unfavourable economic situation (Menger 1999; Abbing 2002; Jeffri 2005). This type of career, as Bridgstock (2005) points out, fits into the relatively new career pattern described as the “boundaryless career” (Arthur 1994) whereby individuals must enhance their human capital by actively navigating their careers. As such any progression in the career path is heavily reliant on self-marketing due to an emphasis on entrepreneurialism and networking. In a recent piece, Brown (2011) acknowledges the importance of marketing strategies in the cultural industries in general, focusing on the book business and the role marketing plays in the “manufacturing” of bestsellers. Similarly, visual artists must clearly position themselves and their work within the arts market in order to have their work valued. In effect artists run their own businesses. The entrepreneurial nature of these careers has been widely noted in recent arts marketing research, which demonstrates the need for networking, relationshipbuilding, word-of-mouth marketing, opportunity recognition and creative thinking to succeed in the market (Fillis 2004; Schroeder 2005). In fact, it can be argued that the most successful artists are a brand; Kerrigan et al.’s (2011) study of Andy Warhol demonstrates how he purposively built his art and celebrity persona into a brand that could be commodified and distributed, one which is still extremely successful today. Although not all artists intentionally brand themselves as Warhol did, as Schroeder demonstrates (2005), artists successfully manage brand images and as such can provide considerable insight into branding and marketing strategy. An artist’s reputation and status directly relates to the prices and value of their work and therefore certain artists can dominate the market, commanding several times as much as others and becoming representatives of a movement. As such they become branded and the artist serves to personify the values attached to the movement which gives the movement its brand equity. Other artists within the movement can receive brand recognition by being co-branded in their associations, so for example Turner’s followers achieved Old Master status in the 1850s due to the value attached to Turner’s work (Reitlinger 1961). The brand position of the artist becomes an important factor in reducing risk for stakeholders who are buying art or working with the artist (whether dealer, curator or collector); investing in a Picasso is much more likely to give you a return on your investment than a piece by an unknown, emerging artist. This is due to the endorsement process which structures the art market, whereby value comes from legitimization by a range of art market actors. 345

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It can therefore be argued that in order to be successful and build up the value of their work, artists must be branded to a certain extent. Person branding is controversial, particularly in the case of artists, due to the long-standing historical separation we like to make between art and the market (Holbrook and Bradshaw 2007) whereby artists are not supposed to be concerned with commerce. To represent the artist as a commodifiable product is therefore questionable. Branding is, however a useful lens that allows us to unpick the value that is found in an art piece, how it embodies the artist and that it is the result of various stakeholders’ images that are collectively constructed around it. This gives us a more holistic perspective of value in the art market and the various meanings that are produced, communicated and consumed through a piece of art. Moreover, as Eckhardt and Bengtsson (2009) show, brands have historically been used in the absence of capitalist economies to differentiate products and demonstrate their quality, holding powerful symbolic as well as economic meanings. We now turn to how these meanings are created and communicated by examining the endorsement process more closely.

Socially co-constructed value As discussed above, the status of ‘artist’ can be used by anyone; there is therefore a need for an endorsement process to filter the good from the bad. Becker’s (1982) and Bourdieu’s (1993) pioneering work demonstrates that cultural production and reception are inherently collective acts that depend upon the institutional and social relations of the art world. The process through which an artist (and therefore the work they produce) is legitimized has been characterized as a chain of events starting at art school, followed by awards and residencies, representation by a primary dealer, reviews and features in art magazines, inclusion in prestigious private collections, museum validation in the form of group or solo shows, international exposure at well-attended biennials and art fairs, and finally the appreciation signalled by strong resale interest at auction which legitimizes the artist (Robertson 2005; Velthius 2005). As artists follow this route, the price of their work rises as it signifies quality assurance; as Currid (2007) explains, economic value emerges from within the social system. Relationships with experts (artists, curators, academics, teachers, critics, collectors and dealers) are therefore key to the way in which artists and their work are legitimized, and artists need to be able to manage this process, building up their social capital for their work to become valuable. This relates to Hume’s (1961) discussion of the standard of taste where he argued that while what made art great was a matter of opinion, some opinions were better than others due to a greater awareness and experience of the works, conventions and genres in question. The concept of social capital, borrowed from Bourdieu (1984), is important in highlighting the significance of social relations, cooperation and networking for actors to gain access to the art world and the resources they need to be valued within it. An artist’s career is therefore an accumulation of connections culminating, for the most successful, in superstar status, of which there are only a handful worldwide. While value may be subjective in the art market, for an artist to be legitimized, a consensus of subjectivities is needed. Artists are in competition to secure the critical attention and social capital that will give them the power to increase the value of their work and therefore, by extension, their value as artists. Opportunities to be validated are scarce and artists are continually under pressure to gain access to and make connections with, the high-end tier of experts who can make things happen for them in terms of distribution. Social and communication skills are therefore as critical as their art-producing or aesthetic talent.

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Although the literature (Robertson 2005; Velthius 2005) presents the endorsement process as a logical hierarchy, a gradual process through which social capital is built up, the reality is somewhat more complex and haphazard. Giuffre’s (1999) study is one of few that takes this into account, arguing that the art world network is continuously changing shape and artists must successfully move through this ecosystem. This is similar to Bourdieu’s (1984) conception of an “artistic field” as a network that is continuously changing shape as actors reposition themselves relative to each other. The art world, therefore, poses an interesting problem in that both the worker and the job are in a state of flux with regard to relative status mainly due to the tastebased, subjective nature by which art is defined. The changing network structure of other actors in the system – by changing relative rankings – may affect, for better or worse, the status of actors whose own pattern of ties have remained stable (Giuffre 1999). Artists therefore need to temporally manage their relationships to maintain or increase their status and reputation in the art world. Endorsement is not necessarily a series of steps; artists can jump up or down in status quickly. A linear progression is rare; it is more likely that artists will benefit from a sudden leap in status after years of suffering from lack of recognition. This is due to the social nature of the endorsement process, where by artists must negotiate, cooperate and collaborate with a range of actors in different contexts. It is only when a variety of these actors agree that the work is worthy of attention that the artist can suddenly become more visible on the art market as they have built up a ‘pyramid of approval’ which then gives the artist power. Endorsement tends to happen in conjunction, by a variety of actors at the same time, leading to sudden rises in status. So while all the stages of the endorsement process are necessary, the actual legitimization of an artist is much more nuanced than is generally acknowledged. There are a multiplicity of ways in which value can be co-created and not a single path that can be replicated; each artist’s trajectory exhibits a different story. Moreover, as quickly as an artist can suddenly become an overnight success story, social capital can also be lost. In fact, as the artist Howard Hodgkin has claimed, “the further great problem of how to be an artist is how to go on being an artist” (1981). Artists have to maintain their social capital, requiring ever-higher levels of productivity and distribution. Furthermore, due to the trend-based nature of the art market, certain styles will fall in and out of favour thereby changing the demand for the work. An analysis conducted in 2005 of the top 100 artists of 1990 showed that one-fifth of these had seen the value of their works fall over the previous 15 years, two-fifths were even and only two-fifths were up (Thompson 2008). Successful artists therefore need to constantly negotiate their positioning in the market in a temporal manner, thus the importance of branding which creates an identity that goes beyond just the product.

Managing authenticity So far we have discussed the process through which value is ascribed to art but we have yet to define the criteria that make a piece valuable. There is a large body of sociological literature that discusses the valuation process (Becker 1982; Moulin 1987; Velthius 2005; and Robertson 2005; amongst others), and that most of the research in this area comes from sociology is due to the very need, as noted above, for consensus between experts on subjective notions of taste. Wijnberg and Gemser (2000) deconstruct the socially constructed nature of value in the art market by describing the way in which Impressionist painters banded together to get value attributed to the innovative aspects of their style of painting. This caused a change in the power structure of the art world, with experts in the form of critics and dealers becoming essential in certifying the innovativeness of artists and endorsing them, rather than the previous model, the Academies, that judged them based on more traditional 347

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figurative criteria. Value came to centre around notions of newness, innovation, creativity and invention rather than purely technical skill. Artists considered to embody these notions were deemed ‘authentic,’ again a socially constituted and temporal notion. This concept of authenticity has become central to the valuation discourse of the art market. It embraces the Romantic conception of the creative artist in opposition to the commercial sphere, thus the need for artists to hide their more commercial activities by relegating them to their dealers. Holbrook and Bradshaw’s (2007) analysis of the Romantic myth argues that we look to an artist as an authentic, non-commercially constituted existence; an escape from the increasing importance of the marketplace on our own lives. As such they suggest that the artist inherits a role to perform, one which is valorized by the marketplace and requires the artist to live and die by extremes as a self-destructive icon whose creativity relies on a certain destructive madness. The artist in this sense, they argue, acts out our own desires to live freely. Artists who can position themselves within these myths stand to win in the marketplace. Indeed in her research, Bain (2005) investigates how artists construct their career identity and finds that due to the limited means of clearly distinguishing between professional and amateur and the lack of recognition attributed to artistic labour as ‘real’ work, professional status comes largely from drawing on a repertoire of shared myths and stereotypes to help create an artistic identity and project it to others. Holbrook and Bradshaw’s (2007) analysis of Chet Baker’s life demonstrates just how powerful these myths can be, sometimes being lived at a human cost. They illustrate how the iconic Romantic mythology of the artist as selfdestructing arises from the contradictory demands for artists to be non-commercial aesthetically and critically oriented while also facing the need to make a living in the market. Moreover, as artists emerge and interact with art professionals such as critics, curators and dealers as well as collectors, they continue to be judged by their perceived authenticity, internalizing these judgements and adapting their artistic identity according to them. The production of art cannot be divorced from its consumption, it is a circular process: artists continually manage their career successes and failures, repeatedly constructing their own artistic identity in relation to notions of authenticity, either accepting or rejecting the prevailing values of the art market in a cyclical process seen in Figure 31.1. In DiMaggio’s (1987) sociological study of the art world, he finds that social groups use distinctive forms of cultural expertise to define themselves and to recognize members and outsiders. It is argued here that legitimacy or status in the art world is based on an artist and the products they create being categorized and positioned as ‘authentic.’ This status is fluid and temporal precisely because the art world is a social and historical institution. This is in line with work by Svejenova (2005) which finds that an artist must fabricate authenticity in his/her work through the duality of identity expression and image manufacturing, negotiating it through social construction and the influence of several ‘milieus’ such as careers, market and industry structure, amongst others. The art world is therefore structured around the discourse of authenticity which is at the heart of the valuation process; artists must therefore learn what it is to be authentic before they can become legitimate members of the art world and access the market. Indeed, part of the endorsement process that allows an artist to gain status is becoming socialized into the art world. Becker’s (1963) work on jazz musicians finds that they define themselves in relation to their artistic ‘gift’ and shared value systems which defines them as authentic ‘insiders’ against the non-authentic, outside, commercial world. Indeed, in the visual arts the same applies and one of the reasons why art school has become so important in artists’ career trajectories is not so much due to any technical skills they may pick up but the social capital to be acquired by learning to perform the subcultural construction of the ‘artist’ identity. Through peer relationships

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Socialisation z

Identity construction

Work

Artist responds to how work is consumed (adapting identity)

Absorption of norms of authenticity (adapting identity)

Work consumed and contextualised z (e.g. by critics/ dealers)

Figure 31.1 Circular process whereby an artist is constantly constructing and reconstructing their professional and personal identity in line with how they are positioned in the art world. The way the art is consumed on the market feeds back to the self-worth of the artist who can then reposition themselves in relation to it

and eventually relationships with experts, artists absorb the core notions of what is considered ‘authentic’ and align their professional identities to fit in with this and position themselves in the art world. The more they do so, the more social capital they gain and this requires constantly managing and maintaining this ‘authentic’ reputation in line with any shifts or movement in the wider market, requiring further reinterpretation. Recent research on authenticity (Beverland and Farrelly 2010; Hede and Thyne 2010) has demonstrated that consumers actively seek authenticity to find meaning in their lives; for artists, authenticity is central to their artistic identity and how this authenticity is communicated translates to acceptance (or rejection) by the art world and negotiation of value. Moreover, this authenticity can be staged, monitored and edited in a similar way to the way Chronis and Hampton (2008) suggest it can be done for tourism sites. To a large extent, authenticity is context-specific and the gatekeepers of the art market – dealers, curators, critics, important collectors – are essential in positioning artists and their work as authentic and therefore valuable. This is why collectors usually want to see the work in person and meet the artist before they buy new work, to establish the piece’s authenticity. Therefore, the art world’s definition of authenticity is based upon the possession of subcultural capital and recognition of such possession by relevant others who define who is and is not considered an artist. O’Reilly (2005) also found this symbolic identity in his research on visual artists, discussing the notion of a ‘tribe’ as one way in which artists construct their own individual brand identity. Authenticity is thus negotiated by the artist between self, art world and the artwork itself which must communicate and be identified within the subcultural construction of ‘authenticity.’

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Conclusion: creations and the artist’s ‘extended self’ By borrowing from Belk’s (1988) seminal piece “Possessions and the Extended Self” we can start to comprehend the relationship between the artist and the artwork. The market reception (both critical, in terms of dealers and critics, and commercial, with collectors and museums) of the work is internalized by the artist feeding into their sense of self-worth and status. The way the artist’s product and their perceived artistic identity is constructed, received and consumed in the market becomes an extension of the artist’s self. This is why O’Reilly (2005) can state that the creative process is self-oriented as much as it is product-oriented. Moreover, as the market is uncertain and perhaps even inexistent, it has to be created by the artist in cooperation with other art world actors. The artwork acts as an advertisement for the self, both to others and through the circular process described here to the artists themselves. In the same way as Belk finds material possessions act as anchors for our identities, artworks perform this function for artists. Identity is therefore actively constructed out of the works of art created and is consumed as such. Branding theory provides us with a lens to conceptualize this, the value and integrity of the artworks are inextricably linked to the value and integrity of the artist and are marketed as such. Indeed, the very concept of authenticity must be broken down as it applies to the product, the artist and the career; if any of these is not deemed authentic, the value of the work will decrease. This is because the three parts come together to create a mythical narrative of which the artist is the protagonist. This demonstrates how inextricable the link between the artist, their career and the product they create is in the valuation of the work, a relationship which is in constant flux. The product is therefore marketed as the embodiment of the artist. Collectors are not buying art they are buying the idea of the ‘artist,’ or, to put it another way, they do not have a spin painting on their walls they have ‘a Hirst.’ While art has always been a commodity, the way it is commodified and the speed of this commodification has changed. In a media-driven society, artists require a clear brand position and unique profile to differentiate themselves from the competition. This is part of the wider mediatization of society and culture that has been observed in various social fields. In mediatized social fields, individuals have a potential advantage when they are media-savvy and capable of becoming a media personality or celebrity (Driessens 2011). McCracken (2005) argues that the celebrity world is “one of the most potent sources of cultural meaning at the disposal of the marketing system and the individual consumer” (p. 113). In the same way that Cashmore and Parker (2003) show that celebrities are commodified and turned into “things to be adored … idolized, but perhaps more importantly produced and consumed” (p. 215), branded artists are becoming increasingly important as ‘personalities.’ In some sense the art scene has swallowed the art as there is more media coverage about the artists and their lives than reviews about what makes their art good. The art market has gone through a period of unprecedented expansion in the last 15 years and there has been a shift in power towards the marketplace as critics, museums and dealers lose their legitimization power in favour of wealthy auction houses and collectors, injecting money into the market and making the very concept of a ‘career’ (rather than a hobby) as an artist not only conceivable but widespread (Moody 2005; Jeffri 2005; Robertson and Chong 2008). One example of a result of this change is the rise of art fairs, replacing private discussions in galleries with an experience similar to a shopping mall. Time-poor, high networth collectors can consolidate their purchasing to one location. With thousands of artworks on offer, however, there is a tendency to look for simple, striking and strongly differentiated work that is rapidly communicated and easily recognizable. It is perhaps no surprise then that Warhol, arguably the most branded artist in the world, was on show at 28 stands in Art Basel 2010 (the most prestigious of the art fairs), which translates to about 10 per cent of the galleries

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participating (Pollock 2010). In the overcrowded art market, it is easy for anyone who is not an expert to get confused; successful brands present buyers with a few high quality markers of value in the form of their co-branding associations who have endorsed them and collectors rely on this in their purchase decisions. Value of the artwork therefore comes from the macro-level context in which it is produced, distributed and consumed. There is, then, a need for a temporal, social perspective of how value is co-constructed in the art market that takes into account production, the artistic identity and career-related aspects (such as professional relationships) of the producer as well as the consumption process. It is argued here that the link between artist and product is inextricable in the valuation of an artwork. Therefore, as artists integrate into the art world through a socialization process, which they must do to enter the art market and have their work valued, the way their work is positioned in the market feeds back to their self-worth and the work they produce in an interactive cycle to negotiate their place in the market. In this way, both their career and their work become extensions of the artist’s self. The unpredictability and anxiety that arises as a result of this process of ‘selling one’s self’ is one of the key features of artistic career trajectories as noted in various studies of artistic careers (e.g. Menger 1999; Gill and Pratt 2008; Hesmondhalgh and Baker 2010). Marketing in the art market is demonstrated to be a complex process involving a variety of actors and dependent on socially manufactured notions of authenticity rather than fixed criteria. As such it is neither linear nor completely rational, but must be continually adapted in line with the social, cultural and temporal context. This value is fluid and multitudinous, found to be social, aesthetic, critical and financial. In order to manage their careers, artists must position themselves in line with prevailing notions of authenticity in the market, consuming and responding to them (and even changing these notions in their favour if need be, as was the case with the Impressionists). Successful artists are shown to be adept at responding to the environment and strategic in terms of their marketing behaviour, negotiating their positioning in the market through managing certain key relationships to create a brand that encapsulates these various forms of value.

References Abbing, H. (2002) Why Are Artists Poor? The Exceptional Economy of the Arts, Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press. Adorno, T. W. (1998) Aesthetic Theory, R. Hullot-Kentor, trans., Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. (Original work published 1965.) Arthur, M. B. (1994) “The boundaryless career: a new perspective for organisational inquiry,” Journal of Organizational Behavior 15(4), 295–306. Bain, A. (2005) “Constructing an artistic identity,” Work, Employment & Society 19, 25. Becker, H. S. (1963) Outsiders: Studies in the Sociology of Deviance, New York: Free Press. Becker, H. S. (1982) Art Worlds, Berkley: University of California Press. Belk, R. (1988) “Possessions and the extended self,” Journal of Consumer Research 15(2), 139–168. Beverland, M. and F. J. Farrelly (2010) “The quest for authenticity in consumption: consumers’ purposive choice of authentic cues to shape experiences outcomes,” Journal of Consumer Research 36(5), 838–856. Bourdieu, P. (1984) Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgment of Taste, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Bourdieu, P. (1993) The Field of Cultural Production, Cambridge: Polity. Bridgstock, R. (2005) “Australian artists, starving and well-nourished: what can we learn from the prototypical protean career?” Australian Journal of Career Development 14(3), 40–48. Brown, S. (2011) “And then we come to the brand: academic insights from international bestsellers,” Arts Marketing: An International Journal 1(1), 70–86. Cashmore, E. and A. Parker (2003) “One David Beckham? Celebrity, masculinity, and the soccerati,” Sociology of Sport Journal 20(3), 214–231.

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Chronis, A. and R. D. Hampton (2008) “Consuming the authentic Gettysburg: how a tourist landscape becomes an authentic experience,” Journal of Consumer Behaviour 7, 111–126. Currid, E. (2007) “The economics of a good party: social mechanics and the legitimization of art/culture,” Journal of Economics and Finance 31(3), 386–394. Dickie, G. (1971) Aesthetics: An Introduction, Cambridge: Pegasus. DiMaggio, P. J. (1987) “Classification in art,” American Sociological Review 52, 440–455. Driessens, O. (2011) “Conceptualizing celebritization: a product of mediatization, personalization and commodification,” paper presented to the Mediatized Worlds: Culture and Society in a Media Age Conference, University of Bremen, Germany. Eckhardt, G. M. and A. Bengtsson (2009) “A brief history of branding in China,” Journal of Macromarketing 30(3), 210–221. Fillis, I. (2004) “The entrepreneurial artist as marketer – lessons from the smaller firm literature,” International Journal of Arts Management 7(1), 9–21. Gill, R. and A. Pratt (2008) “In the social factory? Immaterial labour, precariousness and cultural work,” Theory, Culture & Society 25(7–8), 1–30. Giuffre, K. (1999) “Sandpiles of opportunity: success in the art world,” Social Forces, 77(3), 815–832. Hede, A. M and M. Thyne (2010) “A journey to the authentic: museum visitors and their negotiation of the inauthentic,” Journal of Marketing Management 26(7–8), 686–705. Hesmondhalgh, D. and S. Baker (2010) Creative Labour: Media Work in Three Cultural Industries, London: Routledge. Hodgkin, H. (1981) “How to be an artist,” William Townsend Memorial Lecture at the Slade School of Fine Art, London. Holbrook, M. B. and A. Bradshaw (2007) “Remembering Chet: theorising the mythology of the selfdestructive artist as self-producer and self-consumer,” Marketing Theory 7(2), 115–136. Hume, D. (1961) “Of the standard of taste,” in v.2 of S. Elledge (ed.) Eighteenth-Century Critical Essays, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. (Original work published 1757.) Jeffri, J. (2005) “Managing uncertainty,” in I. Robertson (ed.) Understanding International Art Markets and Management, New York: Routledge. Kerrigan, F., D. Brownlie, P. Hewer and C. Daza-LeTouze (2011) “‘Spinning’ Warhol: celebrity brand theoretics and the logic of the celebrity brand,” Journal of Marketing Management 27(13–14), 1504–1524. McCracken, G. (2005) Culture and Consumption II: Markets, Meaning and Brand Management, Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Menger, P. M. (1999) “Artistic labor markets and careers,” Annual Review of Sociology 25, 541–574. Moody, E. (2005) “The success and failure of international arts management,” in I. Robertson (ed.) Understanding International Art Markets and Management, New York: Routledge. Moulin, R. (1987) The French Art Market, New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press. (Original work published 1967.) O’Reilly, D. (2005) “The marketing/creativity interface: a case study of a visual artist,” International Journal Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Marketing 10, 263–274. Pollock, L. (2010) “Where are the women?” Art Newspaper: Art Basel Daily Edition, June 17, 2. Reitlinger, G. (1961) The Economics of Taste: The Rise and Fall of Picture Prices 1760–1960 Volume I, New York: Hacker Art Books. Robertson, I. (ed.) (2005) Understanding International Art Markets and Management, New York: Routledge. Robertson, I. and D. Chong (2008) The Art Business, Abingdon: Routledge. Saren, M. and N. Tzokas (1998) “The nature of the product in market relationships: a pluri-signified product concept,” Journal of Marketing Management 14(5), 445–464. Schroeder, J. E. (2005) “The artist and the brand,” European Journal of Marketing 39, 1291–1305. Svejenova, S. (2005) “‘The path with the heart’: creating the authentic career,” Journal of Management Studies 42(5), 947–974. Thompson, D. (2008) The $12 Million Stuffed Sharks: The Curious Economics of Contemporary Art and Auction Houses, London: Aurum Press. Velthius, O. (2005) Talking Prices: Symbolic Meaning of Prices on the Market for Contemporary Art, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Wijnberg, N. M. and G. Gemser (2000) “Adding value to innovation: Impressionism and the transformation of the selection system in visual arts,” Organization Science 11(3), 323–329.

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32 THE ART FAIR AS A METAPHOR OF THE ART WORLD Catherine Morel

Introduction Despite their increasingly pivotal – but still contested – role in the art world, little has been written specifically about art fairs in academic circles. Given the current lack of available research in this interesting field, and the economic and sociological importance of art fairs as places of commercial and cultural activities, this chapter analyses the particularities and the complexities of this phenomenon. Specifically, this chapter aims to increase understanding of art fair exhibitors’ expectations and practices, and to highlight some of the issues faced by the organizers of art fairs. The initial objective of this chapter is to survey the relevant literature. The chapter builds on research by others undertaken in fields such as marketing, economic geography or sociology, and trade shows specifically in other creative industries. The second objective is to address the perspective of the art fairs’ main stakeholders (galleries/dealers) and explain why fairs are so important to them. Here, we use techniques such as the mapping of art fairs’ layouts, and analysis of social interactions at such venues, to explore in detail the significance of this overlooked territory. A few high profile European contemporary art fairs will be used as examples as their systematic observation over the last few years has permitted the present author to accumulate a rich source of data.

Art fairs Kunstmarkt (literally ‘art market’) opened its doors in Cologne in September 1967 and can be considered as the blueprint for fairs trading contemporary art (Mehring 2008). Eighteen German galleries exhibited more than 200 artists, to 16,000 visitors over five days. By specializing in contemporary art and insisting on price transparency, the two dealers organizing Kunstmarkt hoped to attract younger aspirational audiences to art, and to reconnect West Germany with the international art world. However, the overtly commercial aim of the fair, and the selection process used for its exhibitors, gave rise to considerable criticism. Disgruntled gallery owners who had not been accepted for Kunstmarkt decided either to sue or to host their own protest shows. Demonstrative 67 was the first of these satellite fairs, which today have become a standard element of the total art fair experience. Art Basel opened in 1970 as a direct response to Kunstmarkt. Other art fairs were soon to spring up around the Western world: FIAC in Paris (1974), ARCO in Madrid and Art Brussels (1982), The Armory Show in New York (1998), Frieze in London (2003), to name a few. More recently, emerging art markets have hosted their own art fairs (e.g. Art Dubai, 353

Catherine Morel Table 32.1 The most visited art fairs in 2011 Guangzhou International Art Fair ARCO Madrid India Art Fair, New Delhi ArteBea, Buenos Aires Foire Internationale d’Art Contemporain, Paris

200,000 160,000 128,000 120,000 85,000

Source: Baia Curioni (2012).

Art Hong Kong, India Art Fair and Contemporary Istanbul) to publicize their newly acquired status in the art world. Baia Curioni (2012) reports that the number of art fairs globally grew from 68 in 2005 to an astonishing 189 in 2011. It would seem that nothing can now stop the ‘artfairisation’ of the art world, a term coined by Spanish art curator Barragán (2008: 18) to describe not only the fast growing number of art fairs and their soaring visitor statistics (see Table 32.1), but also the increasing economic and symbolic power they apparently yield. Fairs are important nodal points in the global art business. As trade events, they are initially designed for art galleries which hope that their investment in expensive booths and sophisticated logistics will produce a return through the sales of their artists’ works, reaching new buyers and providing exceptional networking opportunities (Yogev and Grund 2012). Attending fairs certainly makes commercial sense for galleries. McAndrew (2007) shows that an increasing percentage of galleries’ sales is conducted at fairs. In her survey of some 5,000 dealers at the Maastricht Tefaf fair, 21 per cent of respondents attributed 75 per cent or more of their business to transactions carried out away from their gallery. In recent years, fairs have also become a collective answer for galleries to address the competitive pressures of auction houses and their foray into the primary market (Lind and Velthuis 2012) and private treaty sales. Beyond their undeniable economic and marketing role as trade shows, art fairs are also largely about symbolic hierarchies and cultural capital. To be selected as an exhibitor at a leading international art fair represents not only the prospect of selling all the art works; it is also – and most importantly – an ‘official’ accolade given by one of the agencies which art sociologist Moulin (2003: 48) has called the ‘informal academies’ of the art world. For collectors premium art fairs – and their most sought after VIP passes – are essential fixtures and social markers (Preece 2010) in their annual art Grand Tours. Just as film festivals (Benghozi and Nénert 1995) or book fairs have increasingly opened their doors to the general public, art fairs have also become events where ‘the consumption (not necessarily acquisition) of contemporary art is packaged as a social and cultural experience’ (Lind and Velthuis 2012: 32). Launching and managing an art fair is clearly a complex balancing act for organizers who need to develop business-to-business (B2B) and business-to-consumer (B2C) marketing strategies (Mayaux et al. 2005). As expressed by Stephanie Dieckvoss (quoted in Rees 2012: 50), the Director of Art 13, the new London Art Fair: Exhibitor and visitor experience are key. For exhibitors, this means perfect logistics, good presentations, successful marketing and the feeling they are looked after. For visitors, it means ensuring they have a very special experience, interesting things to see, nice spaces in which to relax and stimulating talks and auxiliary events. The main focus for us, organizers, it to bring the right collectors to the right galleries.

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Literature on trade fairs Since very few academic authors have written directly on art fairs, it seems appropriate to explore first what marketing authors have written about trade fairs in general, and how their comments and results can, to some extent, be extended to art fairs. Second, the works of academics writing on trade shows in other creative industries will be examined.

Trade fair visitors’ and exhibitors’ expectations Marketing authors traditionally consider trade fairs as a B2B promotional tool and usually evaluate the reasons, practicalities and advantages of attending such shows from a (professional) visitor’s or exhibitor’s point of view. The first major line of enquiry in the literature is concerned with professional visitors’ motives and behaviours (Bello and Lohtia 1993; Rosson and Seringhaus 1995; Munuera and Ruiz 1999; Gopalakrishna et al. 2010). Penaloza (2001) paved the way to the ethnographic study of trade shows by studying non-professional visitors who consumed them as entertainment. Quantitative methods have mostly been used to study professional visitors, with the notable exception of Borghini et al. (2004) who adopted an anthropological approach. Through research techniques such as participation, observation and elicitation, these authors presented ‘a picture of trade shows as informative events, where exhibitors (often unwillingly) produce free externalities that benefit different typologies of subjects: prospects, competitors, suppliers, firms of related industries’ (2004: 17). More recently, Rinallo et al. (2010) used experiential marketing concepts to look at visitors’ expectations and experience. The second major line of enquiry, and the one we pursue in this chapter, considers the benefits that can be expected by exhibitors attending such events, and the ways they can measure and improve their performance (Kerin and Cron 1987; Gopalakrishna and Lilien 1995; Hansen 1999; Blythe 2000; Seringhaus and Rosson 2001; Mayaux et al. 2006). A marked distinction is usually made between selling and non-selling activities. In their early work, Kerin and Cron (1987) found that non-selling activities were considered by some exhibitors to be more important than selling activities. In contrast to the Gopalakrishna and Lilien (1995) model, in which the authors focused only on tangible outcomes – prospects, leads, sales – Hansen’s (1999) trade show performance framework included the ‘traditional’ outcome-based measures (i.e. sales volume or value) and also, more interestingly, the behaviour-based metrics that account for the information-gathering, image-building, motivation and relationship-building activities which take place during the trade show.

Fairs as field configuring events Trade fairs fall into the category of what economic geographers Maskell et al. (2004) regard as ‘temporary clusters’, ‘short-lived hotspots of intense knowledge exchange, network building and idea generation’ (Maskell et al. 2006: 997). Bathelt and Schuldt (2008) argue that such events are crucially important for whole industries because of the rich ecology of information and knowledge flows that are produced (2008: 856). They believe that bringing together people from particular communities of practice supports processes of learning and helps stimulate interaction, exchange and knowledge creation. Power and Jansson (2008) argue that trade fairs are less temporary clusters than they are cyclical clusters. Taking the example of design fairs (which are not dissimilar to art fairs), they believe that such events should not be viewed as isolated from

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one another, but as part of an almost continual global circuit. Firms can only benefit from trade fairs if they engage with them on a continuous and long-term basis. In the special issue of Journal of Management Studies on trade fairs, Lampel and Meyer (2008) go further and develop their idea of trade shows as ‘Field Configuring Events’ (FCE), that is, temporary social organizations such as conferences, award ceremonies and festivals ‘in which networks are constructed, business cards are exchanged, reputations are advanced, deals are struck, news is shared, accomplishments are recognized, standards are set, and dominant designs are selected’ (2008: 1026). To Lampel and Meyer, FCEs ‘provide unstructured opportunities for face-to-face social interaction’ and ‘include ceremonial and dramaturgical activities’. They also facilitate ‘occasions for information exchange and collective sense making’ whilst helping to ‘generate social and reputational resources that can be deployed elsewhere and for other purposes’ (2008: 1027).

Fairs and festivals in other creative industries Similar conclusions to Lampel and Meyer (2008) are reached by Entwistle and Rocamora (2006) who, drawing on Bourdieu’s concepts of field and habitat, argue that a trade event such as London Fashion Week (LFW) is crucial as a materialization of the field of fashion. They suggest that more than simply exhibiting next season’s trends, ‘LFW’s main function is to produce, reproduce and legitimate the field of fashion and the positions of those players within it’ (2006: 736). The show renders visible the field characteristics and the actors’ role and position within it. Such fairs and events are theatre stages where the various actors of Bourdieu’s art field or Becker’s art world (1982) converge and engage in activities and practices based on shared values, beliefs, norms and conventions. As one of the main venues for the re-enactment of institutional arrangements in the field, they also contribute to the reproduction of the field. Creative events, such as fashion trade fairs (Skov 2006) or book fairs (Moeran 2010) are events which ‘reveal and simultaneously (re)configure the fields of which they form a part’ (Moeran and Pettersen 2009: 3). As a conclusion to this rapid overview of the literature on trade fairs, we can argue that although straightforward sales objectives are important in the short term for galleries attending top art fairs, reputational, information gathering, networking and learning objectives are even more crucial in the longer term. This means that galleries need to develop a strategic approach to the fairs they will attend, with the goal of ascending to the most prestigious ones to establish their position in the art world. However, such objectives are difficult to quantify and research, particularly in a profession where secrecy and insider knowledge remain at the core of the dealer’s activities. Consequently, the findings generated from ethnographic research in this area may prove more relevant to marketing practitioners than those generated from quantitative approaches.

Why do galleries take part in art fairs? Drawing on points made in the previous section, the aim of this second part is to look more specifically at art fairs from the galleries’ point of view, with the aim to establish why art fairs are so vital to them, even in the face of the expenses incurred (£352 per square metre at Frieze 2012, for instance). One of the major differences between art fairs and other trade events is that exhibitors at top art fairs have to go through a selection process. To guarantee a successful event for its

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participants, the organizers must attract the most reputable galleries, their artists and collectors. As the former director of Clarion Events (quoted in Kouli 2009) explained: Dealers are vital because they bring collectors and collectors create the fair’s legitimacy and status. The status, then, propels the press coverage and so on. This type of virtuous circle is achieved mostly through dealer representation.

Art fairs as gatekeepers to the art world Selection criteria for art fairs vary but usually the first requirement is for exhibitors to have a permanent physical exhibition and selling space. The age of the gallery, its nationality, the quality of artists and works presented, the gallery’s project and vision, the number of previous participations to the fair, and the number of participations in other major fairs, will also be assessed. Table 32.2 shows the high level of selection taking place at some of the most desirable art fairs in Europe. Selection committees are usually composed of gallery owners who also participate at the fair. If we take the example of the committees of the same leading fairs in 2012, all the members listed had their stand at the fair for which they were seeking participants (see Table 32.3). Some satellite fairs have tried to move away from these dealers’ participants committees calling instead on ‘independent’ curators and critics. But Sam Keller, the former director of Art Basel, believes that these committees’ independence is also limited: ‘whoever is an important member of the art world has alliances and networks’ (quoted in Douglas 2008: 147) and it seems only natural that they will promote the galleries belonging to these networks. Decisions made by the selection committee are secret and most fairs do not give feedback to the galleries that have been rejected. Appeals are rarely accepted and it is said that galleries would lie and rather say they did not apply than admit that their application was unsuccessful. Selection committee decisions can also be a source of internal conflict. In 2010, the disagreements between Spanish contemporary art fair ARCO’s selection committee and Ifema, the fair organizer, shed light on the acute commercial and artistic tensions faced by art fairs. In order to fill in the booths, Ifema went against the selection committee’s decisions and invited galleries that had been refused initially by the committee. As observed by the Director of ArtInsight Ltd, such a reckless move can jeopardize the longevity of a fair which needs a strong committee with a clear and consistent vision (Interview12 April 2011). Selection decisions can seem all the more arbitrary as recognized leading galleries do not always go through the selection process and can be invited directly. FIAC, in its move towards internationalization and its aim to have more private individual collectors (rather than institutional ones), invited London-based gallery White Cube to participate for the first time in their 2008 fair. Similarly the US giant Gagosian was invited to have their stand for the first time in 2010. Both were considered as anchor dealers at the Grand Palais venue, bringing with them

Table 32.2 Number of applicants and galleries selected at three top art fairs Art fairs

Number of galleries selected (2012)

Art Basel (CH) Frieze Art Fair, London (UK) FIAC Paris (F)

306 galleries selected out of 950 applications 170 galleries selected out of 500 applications 182 galleries selected out of 750 applications

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Catherine Morel Table 32.3 Composition of committees at three top art fairs Name

Directors

Committee rules

Composition of the committee (2012)

Art Basel

Marc Spiegler

No set maximum on tenure for members of selecting committee (recommended term of five to ten years) 21 meetings per year Daily visits during the fair

X. Hufkens, Xavier Hufkens, Brussels; D. Juda, Annely Juda Fine Art, London; J. Meyer, Karlsruhe; T. Neuger, Galerie Neugerriemschneider, Berlin; F. Noero, Galleria Franco Noero, Turin; E. Presenhuber, Galerie Presenhuber, Zurich

Frieze Art Fair

Amanda Sharp No set maximum tenure (minimum and Matthew of two years) for committee Slotover members. Originally team of seven to which a new member should be added each year to refresh the committee

FIAC Paris Jennifer Flay

Not available

D. Buchholz, Galerie Daniel Buchholz, Cologne; M. Fortes, Galeria Fortes Vilaça, São Paulo; C. Grassi, Greengrassi Gallery, London; C. Greene, Green Naftali, New York; M. Manzutto, Kurimanzutto; M. Paley, Maureen Paley Gallery, London; N. Svennung, Galerie Chantal Crousel, Paris; T. Webster, The Modern Institute, Glasgow; F. Bonnefou, Air de Paris, Paris; C. Crousel, Galerie Chantal Crousel, Paris; S. Saouma, Berlin; A. Schroeder, Galerie Neu, Berlin; N. Seroussi, Paris; G. Veneklasen, VeneKlasen Werner, Berlin

different arrays of international collectors. When Dubai decided to have its own art fair, most leading Western galleries were invited without charge in the hope of bringing the right visitors to the fair and the region. Despite this arduous, time-consuming, costly and potentially disheartening application process, attending an art fair remains a vital key to the international art world. Acceptance at a major fair is particularly important for young galleries which regard it as a stamp of approval crucial in building their reputation. According to the co-director of the now closed Hotel Gallery in London, selling works, whilst important, is not the only objective for young galleries. Participation in international art fairs is a branding exercise aimed at collectors, other major fairs and museum curators. The young gallery director can network with their contemporary and older peers and work at recruiting new artists (presentation by Darren Fluke, Sotheby’s Institute of Art, November 2006). This is confirmed by the Manager of Limoncello gallery in London who states ‘the main advantage of attending a fair for a young gallery like us is exposure. Our aim is to meet as many dealers and buyers as possible. By networking, we can publicize and promote our name’ (quoted in Kouli 2009).

The fair as a map of the art world In her work on the fashion world, Skov (2006: 768) notes that ‘fairs have a function similar to graphs in that they chart the relative positions of companies in abstract space’. The study of plans of art fairs offers a usefully accurate picture of the art world hierarchy, the status differences and the power relations between players in the field. The physical arrangements of the show indicate who is at the core of the art world and who is at its periphery. 358

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Leading galleries (anchor dealers) are allocated the biggest stands (the size being a tangible clue to their power) usually at the intersection of major alleys (FIAC charge an extra 5 per cent for booths located on corners), whereas newcomers are put at further ends of the fair. At Art Basel, for instance, the more established galleries presenting mainly modern art are located on the ground floor of Hall 2 closer to the main entrance (facilitating access for collectors). The very best locations are around the courtyard. Galleries presenting contemporary art are located on the second floor. Art Statements, where very young galleries have the opportunity to show a single artist, is organized in a different building altogether (Hall 1). In Frieze, a new section called Frame was opened in 2009 to enable young galleries to show the work of one selected artist. Frame is usually at the end of the fair, and to mark the passage from the core of the art world to its periphery, the floor surface changes from carpet to concrete. In 2012, Frieze launched yet another section – Focus – dedicated to galleries opened since 2001. Galleries are also keen to be among galleries they themselves respect. Position next to a key and reputed gallery entails better visibility to collectors and easy access for social exchange.

The fair as a site of re-enactment of the art world Each of the contemporary art fairs operates in a similar way, yet there are subtle differences. Following the model of trade fairs, each gallery is given a booth that they may – within certain limits – design to present art works in the best conditions possible. One of the more important sources of mimetic isomorphism (DiMaggio and Powell 1983; Jyrämä and Ayvari 2010) is the contemporary gallery space itself. The stands usually mimic the format of a contemporary art gallery, being small ‘white cubes’. As observed by O’Doherty, ‘The white wall’s apparent neutrality is an illusion. It stands for a community with common ideas and assumptions’ (1999: 79). The division of space between sacred and profane noted in galleries by Velthuis (2005: 29) can also be observed. By making an architectural distinction between the exhibiting space of the booth and the back room, galleries separate their aesthetic from their commercial role. Some galleries try to cut the monotony of the long aisles by introducing some architectural and design features to their stands as a visual statement. However, such daring moves are usually restricted to established galleries who will not be accused of choosing style over substance. Art fair practices follow those observed in contemporary galleries ( Jyrämä 2002). What Velthuis (2005: 18) defines as the business repertoire is clearly at work here, that is, ‘the business repertoire manifests itself materially and symbolically in the way art is marketed, business is conducted, and prices are set’. The small rituals of the gallery are adhered to: the absence of price and sometimes the absence of the artist’s name next to the work, the spreading out of catalogues of past and future exhibitions, and piles of invitations to past or future exhibitions at the gallery. Visitors’ evident degree of familiarity with these practices enables the gallery staff to carry out a rapid grading of their importance.

Art fairs as places for selected encounters A fair is a platform that enables several types of meetings for dealers. First, dealers exchange and acquire knowledge to obtain an overview of what is happening in the trade. They can observe and compare artists and works, and assess their strategies with those of competitors (and also collectors’ reactions to their competitors’ strategies). Moulin (2003: 98) explains that fairs are sites of comparison and exchange for dealers and collectors, who learn about recent market trends (artists) and test the relevance of their own choices.

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Art fairs are key providers of various forums for social interaction and access to key experts, competitors, collectors and knowledge which would otherwise not be accessible at a local level. They are clearly not just about looking at art works but also about talking with peers, competitors, collectors and experts. Maskell et al. (2006) point out that the international fairs provide a forum for actors located away from central hubs (e.g. London and New York for contemporary art) to create international relationships and achieve success. During a fair, dealers have access to knowledge sources that are physically away from their own locale. It is not unusual to see dealers circulate around the fair and view other stands, converse with other dealers or socialize at the café. Views on the presented works are shared; small talk is exchanged. In these discussions, art world practices are recreated, key actors positioned, newcomers allowed an entry and new art trends established. Therefore we would argue that leading art fairs enable galleries to by-pass underdeveloped national art markets and acquire international credentials. They instantly move from the periphery to the core of the international art market (Quémin 2001). Fairs also facilitate the search for suitable (international) partners and the building of latent networks that can be useful later on: the two directors of the Riflemaker gallery in London like to tell the story of their initial meeting at Art Basel that led to their association. As a consequence, fair organizers need to multiply the opportunities for art world players to meet. First is the invitation-only preview day(s). Here, fair organizers ensure that galleries have the right conditions to carry out their business. But even on that day, there is a strict pecking order for entry. As explained by one of the Directors of Frieze (quoted in Philby 2012): At 11am, the doors open. That time is for serious collectors who want first choice and want to see the work in an uncrowded environment … The 2pm slot is for the next tier of collectors; by 6pm it is party time. In other words, your importance in the art world is signalled by the time of your entry to the fair. The various off-site parties and dinners hosted by the fair organizers, by dealers or (private and institutional) collectors are just as important. As described by Currid (2007), such social events are where various cultural gatekeepers, intermediaries, producers and collectors congregate and participate in the valorization of art. As such, the social is not the accidental by-product (a ‘spillover’) of art/culture agglomeration but the raison d’être of its existence. The social is the most effective way to translate, consume and legitimize cultural goods, and art/culture participants are aware and actively seek out these environs. (Currid 2007: 392) Invitation to these social events is another selection tool determining the position of the dealer in the art world.

Conclusion Despite being overlooked in marketing research, art fairs are interesting subjects for study. They shed light on the particularities of commercial activity in a high value industry, and they offer opportunities for both economic and sociological approaches to the further understanding of marketing luxury commodities. As cyclical events that concentrate important actors of the art world in specific locations, art fairs go far beyond commercial transactions: they facilitate and

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support knowledge exchanges, network and reputation building. All of these activities maintain and reinforce the vigour of the art market as an industry. In appropriating the methodologies previously applied to fairs in other creative industries, this chapter has demonstrated how greater understanding of the art fair phenomenon can be elicited. It has also proposed ways in which art fairs as a suite of marketing activities can be evaluated outside traditional modes of quantitative research. Regarding the future, findings from the author’s research suggest that these fairs will continue to be an integral, and indispensable, part of the marketing strategy of galleries. Virtual fairs such as the VIP Art Fair launched in January 2011 are unlikely to seriously compete with physical art fairs but will certainly complement them, enabling dealers to reinforce links with collectors through better relationship marketing. Art fair organizers are increasingly moving away from selling space to become intermediaries who facilitate the networking and interaction of the market players, and help to create or reinforce their status and reputation in the art field. The true challenge for them is to establish strong brand differentiation and positioning in the lucrative market of art fairs. Several elements have fallen outside the scope of this chapter, such as the impact of art fairs on the local economy, their contribution in the generation of new national art eco-systems or indeed the role of the artists themselves in this context. Similarly, the consequences of the multiplication of art fairs on the nature and quality of contemporary art works presented have been left for another discussion. There remains considerable potential, and need, for further investigation into art fairs and their various stakeholders. It is hoped that this chapter will encourage further ventures into this fascinating field.

Further reading Heidecker, G. (2008) Art affairs, Ostfildern: Hatje Cantz. (To our knowledge, the only photographic account of art fairs, with a good text by Marc Spiegler before he became the Director of Art Basel.) Moeran, B. and Strandgaard Pederson, J. (eds.) (2010) Negotiating values in the creative industries: fairs, festivals, and competitive events, New York: Cambridge University Press. (A comprehensive book which highlights the role of fairs and festivals as institutions of economic and social exchange in the creative industries.) Thornton, S. (2008) Seven days in the art world, London: Granta. (An entertaining account of the art world by a sociologist, who, in Autumn 2012, wrote an article explaining why she was leaving the art world.)

References Baia Curioni, S. (2012) ‘A fairy tale: the art system, globalization, and the fair movement’, in Lind, M. and Velthuis, O. (eds) Contemporary art and its commercial markets: a report on current conditions and future scenarios, Berlin: Sternberg Press. Barragán, P. (2008) The art fair age, Milano: Edizioni Charta. Bathelt, H. and Schuldt, N. (2008) ‘Between luminaires and meat grinders: international trade fairs as temporary clusters’, Regional Studies, 42(6), 853–868. Becker, H.S. (1982) Art worlds, Berkeley: University of California. Bello, D.C. and Lohtia, R. (1993) ‘Improving trade show effectiveness by analyzing attendees’, Industrial Marketing Management, 22, 311–318. Benghozi, P.-J. and Nénert, C. (1995) ‘Création de valeur artistique ou économique: du Festival de Cannes au marché du film’, Recherche et Applications en Marketing, 10(4), 65–76. Blythe, J. (2000) ‘Objectives and measures at UK trade exhibitions’, Journal of Marketing Management, 16(1), 203–222. Borghini, S., Golfetto, F. and Rinallo, D. (2004) ‘Using anthropological methods to study industrial marketing and purchasing: an exploration of professional trade shows’, paper presented at the Industrial Marketing Purchasing Conference, Copenhagen.

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Catherine Morel Currid, E. (2007) ‘The economics of a good party: social mechanics and the legitimization of art/culture’, Journal of Economics and Finance, 31(386), 3. DiMaggio, P. and Powell, W. (1983) ‘The iron cage revisited: institutional isomorphism and collective rationality in organizational fields’, American Sociological Review, 48, 147–160. Douglas, S. (2008) ‘Razzle dazzle’, Art & Auction, October, 174–177. Eckstein, J. (2006) The art fair as an economic force. Tefaf Maastricht and its impact on the local economy, Maastricht: Tefaf. Entwistle, J. and Rocamora, A. (2006) ‘The field of fashion materialized: a study of London Fashion Week’, Sociology, 40(4), 735–751. Gopalakrishna, S. and Lilien, G.L. (1995) ‘A three-stage model of industrial trade show performance’, Marketing Science, 14 (Winter), 22–42. Gopalakrishna, S., Roster, C. and Sridhar, S. (2010) ‘An exploratory study of attendee activities at a business trade show’, Journal of Business & Industrial Marketing, 25(4), 241–248. Hansen, K. (1999) ‘Trade show performance: a conceptual framework and its implications for future research’, Academy of Marketing Science Review, 8, 1–12. Jyrämä, A. (2002) ‘Contemporary art market – structure and actors: a study of art galleries in Finland, Sweden, France and Great Britain’, International Journal of Arts Management, 4(2), 50–65. Jyrämä, A. and Ayvari, A. (2010) ‘Marketing contemporary visual arts’, Marketing Intelligence & Planning, 28(6), 723–735. Kerin, R.A. and Cron, W.L. (1987) ‘Assessing trade show functions and performance: an exploratory study’, Journal of Marketing, 51 ( July), 87–94. Kouli, D. (2009) ‘Art fairs: commercial platforms or cultural producers?’, unpublished MA dissertation, London: Sotheby’s Institute of Art. Lampel, J. and Meyer, A. (2008) ‘Field-configuring events as structuring mechanisms: how conferences, ceremonies, and trade shows constitute new technologies, industries, and markets’, Journal of Management Studies, 45(6), 1025–1035. Lind, M. and Velthuis, O. (eds) (2012) Contemporary art and its commercial markets: a report on current conditions and future scenarios, Munich: Sternberg Press. McAndrew, C. (2007) The international art market: a survey of Europe in a global context, Maastricht: Tefaf. Maskell, P., Bathelt, H. and Malmberg, A. (2004) ‘Temporary clusters and knowledge creation: the effects of international trade fairs, conventions and other professional gatherings’, paper presented at 100th Annual Meeting of the Association of American Geographers, Philadelphia, 14–19 March. Maskell, P., Bathelt, H. and Malmberg, A. (2006) ‘Building global knowledge pipelines: the role of temporary clusters’, European Planning Studies, 14(8), 997–1013. Mayaux, F., Shaw, J. and Tissier-Desbordes, E. (2005) ‘Le marketing d’un prestataire de service particulier: l’organisateur de foires et salons’, IRIS day conference, organized by Association Française du Marketing, IAE, Lyon, April. Mayaux, F., Shaw, J. and Tissier-Desbordes, E. (2006) ‘Les foires et salons pour quoi faire? Objectifs des exposants et mesure de l’efficacité’, Décisions Marketing, 41, 23–32. Mehring, C. (2008) ‘Emerging markets’, Artforum, April, 322–329. Moeran, B. (2010) ‘The book fair as a tournament of values’, Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute, (N.S.) 16, 138–154. Moeran, B. and Pettersen, J.S. (2009) ‘Fairs and festivals: negotiating values in the creative industries’, Creative Encounters Working Papers no. 33, Copenhagen Business School. Moulin, R. (2003) Le marché de l’art. Mondialisation et nouvelles technologies, Paris: Champs Flammarion. Munuera, J.L. and Ruiz, S. (1999) ‘Trade fairs as services: a look at visitors’ objectives in Spain’, Journal of Business Research, 44, 17–24. O’Doherty, B. (1999) Inside the white cube: the ideology of the gallery space, Berkeley: University of California Press. Penaloza, L. (2001) ‘Consuming the American West: animating cultural meaning and memory at a stock show and rodeo’, Journal of Consumer Research, 28(3), 369–398. Philby, C. (2012) ‘Brrrr … can Frieze get any cooler?’, The Independent, 29 September. Power, D. and Jansson, J. (2008) ‘Cyclical clusters in global circuits: overlapping spaces in furniture trade fairs’, Economic Geography, 84(4), 423–448. Preece, C. (2010) ‘Supermarkets of the art world: the spectacle of the art fair as a venue for conspicuous consumption’, 9th International Colloquium on Arts, Heritage, Non Profit and Social Marketing, King’s College London, UK, 10 September.

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Quémin, J.C. (2001) Le rôle des pays prescripteurs sur le marché et dans le monde de l’art contemporain, Paris: Rapport au Ministère des Affaires Etrangères. Rees, L. (2012) ‘Art 13: a global affair’, Flash Art, November–December. Rinallo, D., Borghini, S. and Golfetto, F. (2010) ‘Exploring visitors’ experience at trade shows’, Journal of Business & Industrial Marketing, 25(4), 249–258. Rosson, P.J. and Seringhaus, F.H.R. (1995) ‘Visitor and exhibitor interaction at industrial trade fairs’, Journal of Business Research, 32(1), 81–90. Seringhaus, F.H.R. and Rosson, P.J. (2001) ‘Firm experience and international trade fairs’, Journal of Marketing Management, 17, 877–901. Skov, L. (2006) ‘The role of trade fairs in the global fashion business’, Current Sociology, 54(5), 764–783. Velthuis, O. (2005) Talking prices, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Yogev, T. and Grund, T. (2012) ‘Network dynamics and market structure: the case of art fairs’, Sociological Focus, 45(1), 23–40.

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33 DISTRIBUTING VISUAL ARTWORKS Challenges and perspectives Rita Kottász and Roger Bennett

Introduction Estimates vary significantly, but in the UK alone there are between 60,000 and 90,000 professional visual artists and approximately 3,700 graduates completing art degrees each year (House of Commons Report 2005; Jones 2010). One thing visual artists have in common is their need for exposure: they need to get their artwork to market and to sell their outputs. Contemporary visual artists (painters, sculptors, photographers, printmakers, etc.) may choose among a variety of options for distributing their work: notably dealers, agents, galleries, websites or, most likely, a mixture of online and bricks-and-mortar channels. Typically, dealers buy and resell pieces of work on behalf of artists. Galleries exist primarily to display works of art and to market the artist to potential buyers for a fee. However, in reality, distinctions between galleries and dealers tend to be fuzzy, with intermediaries frequently undertaking multiple roles. Most dealers have their own exhibition galleries and, as well as purchasing work outright, often rent gallery space to artists or buy on a sale-or-return basis (Ruston 2005; Ruffell 2011). Likewise, most gallery owners act as dealers at least occasionally, and both dealers and gallery owners sometimes perform the function of agent, who (on average for a 30 per cent fee) will organize sales to third parties but without personally assuming ownership of pieces ( Jones 2010). Two types of galleries are often distinguished: fine art and commercial galleries. Fine art galleries tend to be driven by an educational mission and to bring art to the public. Commercial galleries on the other hand operate very much like retail stores and have profit-maximization goals (Aschenbrenner 2009). There are an estimated 9,600 art dealers (Robertson 2005) and approximately 2,400 major commercial galleries operating around Britain (see the UK Art Galleries and Fine Art Dealers online directory). The main concentration of large commercial galleries is in London (597) and the south west of England (401). Although there are no concrete figures, the number of agents is diminishing mainly because there is not enough profit in the average sale of artworks and sales are not frequent enough to allow for percentages for artist, agent and a third party (Ruston 2005). Other distribution options available to artists include the renting of space in public places not primarily dedicated to art (furniture stores, community halls, cafés, etc.), open air exhibitions, art

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fairs, shared or personal websites, and direct sales from an artist’s studio. The recession, a dip in the art market and the high costs associated with a number of distribution options are leading some artists to abandon the gallery world and sell via the studio and the Internet (Zacharow 2011). Traditional avenues of distribution have been eroded further with the emergence of collector-organized exhibitions ( Jeffrey 2006; Thornton 2009; Simek 2012), artist-curated shows, inventory parties (at which people sell everything they own) and art parties which mix a social occasion with the sale of art (Robertson 2005: 25). Such alternative pursuits are nevertheless not altogether new and have in the past been organized in response to artists’ frustrations over issues of access to public and commercial galleries (e.g. exhibitions organized by the French Impressionists in the 1870s) ( Jeffri 1980) and control over sales. Ruffell (2011) advises visual artists to look at distribution options in terms of markets. For artists at the beginning of their career, Ruffell recommends selling directly to friends and family initially, and then expanding gradually through this network, getting private buyers to buy works to hang in their homes and in the workplace (via studio exhibitions, shops, selling directly door-to-door, on holiday, in shopping malls, through the Internet, etc.). Approaching dealers, galleries, licensors (people or organizations who buy to use the art in other formats such as calendars and greeting cards), publishers (firms who buy to reproduce and sell as posters or limited edition prints) are options suggested for the more established artist. Chosen methods will need to vary according to an artist’s ambitions. The artist needs to question his or her priorities. Is the artist’s main priority to make art that sells on a mass scale or to create works aimed at more esteemed channels? Different avenues will serve different purposes. Either way, Ruffell (2011) provides the artist with some useful tips on what sells and what fails in the contemporary marketplace (types of work, size of paintings, subject matter, etc.). This kind of information is helpful in understanding how artists can gain access to certain types of intermediary. Well-known artists may be able to sell their latest work through auction houses, although the latter have historically been reluctant to handle items produced within the previous two years for fear of disrupting their relations with dealers, many of whom obtain large amounts of their stock from auctions (Kupp 2009). Of course, the most esteemed channel of distribution, which relatively few artists are able to access in their lifetime, is an entry into the collection of a public museum or gallery (Blazwick in Jones 2010: 140). Note however that, at least in the UK, distribution options vary significantly from region to region, often to the detriment of artists based outside the capital (House of Commons Report 2005). Furthermore, certain distribution options will vary and be restricted to artists at different stages of their career. This is because some dealers/galleries are involved solely in the primary markets (works that appear on the open market for the first time), whereas others operate exclusively in the secondary and tertiary markets.

Bricks-and-mortar intermediaries: the ‘gatekeepers’ For decades, a large amount of criticism has been directed against the ‘legitimating authorities’ that allegedly determined whether producers of fine art would be able to distribute their work (see Martin 2007). Legitimating authorities include gallery owners, curators, dealers, agents and directors of arts centres who organize exhibitions, commission publications, arrange auctions and private sales and who, through controlling these channels, can restrict entry only to approved suppliers of artwork (Kawashima 1999; Roberston 2005: 21). Logsdail (in Jones 2010) reported that many contemporary young artists feel frustrated by and resentful towards this gatekeeping world. The excessive concentration of power in the 365

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hands of bricks-and-mortar intermediaries is said to have resulted in poor service quality and low returns to individual artists. Conversely, the legitimating authorities themselves claimed that this system provided stability: that dealers, etc., had a better knowledge of business methods and marketing than artists, and that the system maintained the quality of the artwork placed on the market. Interestingly, this gatekeeping role is attributed first and foremost to commercial players (including galleries, art dealer societies and auction houses) within the contemporary art market. The art market is intentionally a restricted market with high barriers to entry (which benefits both sellers and buyers – see Singer 1988). According to Robertson (2005), taste is one of the most important determinants of value in the art market and taste is strongly associated with power; power in the contemporary art market is actually controlled discreetly at commercialplayer level (Robertson 2005). It is initially the dealers that select art and restrict supply onto the market (Robertson 2005). Only subsequently can public museums and galleries validate these decisions and convert cutting-edge contemporary art into the modern and Old Master works of the future. Robertson (2005) concludes that the origin of much of our artistic culture is commercially inspired.

New possibilities made available by the Internet Advances in Internet digital technology occurring over the last 20 years have made it possible for beginning and/or lesser known artists to self-market their outputs and shun the bricks-andmortar establishment. In particular there is today increasing scope for lesser known artists to use these new technologies to create personal brands to facilitate the sale of their work. Every day, millions of people in the UK engage with the arts and cultural sector through digital media. It is not only musicians (Independent 2010) and museums that attract a large number of followers through social media sites such as YouTube, Facebook, MySpace and Twitter (Key Note Report 2011), but also many visual artists who have thousands of online fans (for example Damien Franco, an art photographer, has almost 38,000 followers on the social networking site Twitter) (Skinny Artist 2010). Recognizing the difficulties most artists face in gaining access to the art market, the Saatchi Gallery launched ‘Your Gallery in 2006’, a shared online platform where artists can exhibit their work and where they have the opportunity to connect with other artists, dealers, collectors and curators. The website, re-launched and re-branded as Saatchi Online, is used by over 100,000 artists; no fee is charged for the service and the Saatchi Gallery takes no commission when artists sell their work via the site. According to Wikipedia, the site receives an estimated 73 million hits per day. Other similar shared online ventures where artists can distribute and sell their art include Etsy, eBay, Zatista, Zibbet and ArtGallery.co.uk. Some online sites such as Flickr (an online photo sharing site), Slide (an online slideshow site) and WordPress (a blogging site where artists can get the word out about their work) are free and hence represent valuable tools for artists who are just starting out. Although, undeniably, the Internet is becoming an increasingly important tool in marketing art, Jones (2010) and Lighton (in the House of Commons Report 2005: 10) believe that bricksand-mortar channels of distribution are still vital in establishing the careers of professional artists. According to Wires (2011), the Internet has not challenged the traditional gallery sales of original artwork and has simply opened up a new lower end market to buyers who are not serious collectors and to artists who are at best semi-professional. Serious collectors are seemingly not interested in purchasing a high-priced original piece solely through a jpeg photo displayed on an Internet platform (Kazumori and McMillan 2005). Wires (2011) believes that (a) commercially

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run shared art websites do not publish their sales volumes because they do not want to publicize the fact that they are not creating substantial revenues for artists and that (b) despite the lack of success, they attract artists on the basis of hope, rather than realistic selling prospects.

Pros and cons associated with various distribution options Literature in the arts marketing area (e.g. Weintraub 1997; Ruffell 2011; Ruston 2005; Villarica 2010) has identified several benefits and drawbacks associated with specific distribution options. Dealers, galleries and agents have the advantage of possessing expert knowledge of the art market and typically have access to extensive mailing lists of potential buyers and network contacts in the art world; and they are often able to provide numerous support services (e.g. insurance, packaging and delivery, arranging credit payment plans for customers). They may also have a role in educating potential buyers about an individual artist’s outputs. A further possible benefit of using one of these three intermediaries is that by associating with a well-regarded dealer, gallery or agent, an artist can obtain ‘legitimacy’ for his or her outputs (Hoang and Antoncic 2003). Logsdail (in Jones 2010: 19) commends galleries for discovering and developing the longterm careers of artists, a purpose and commitment he does not attribute to dealerships. Dealers are often regarded as businesses that trade in art objects; as ‘middlemen’ often without training or certification ( Jones 2010). Conversely, McIntyre (2004) found that high-end dealers in London were heavily involved in developing and managing their artists’ careers. Thornton (2009) distinguishes between collector-, curator- and artist-oriented dealers and implies that the use of the artist-oriented dealers may hold most advantage to an artist seeking representation. These individuals often have an artistic background themselves, may have more empathy with the artist and are therefore particularly motivated to seal a deal which benefits the artist. Whichever dealer an artist eventually ends up working with, prior research is essential. For some artists a choice of dealer will very much depend on the types of markets in which the dealer is involved. Dealers in the primary market tend to be young and entrepreneurial but are often short of funds (Robertson 2005). As a result of this, they can only act as agents rather than dealers for most of the time (Robertson 2005). Furthermore, dealers have the advantage of being able to wait for clientele; whereas agents are constantly under pressure to make a sale in order to realize their commission (Robertson 2005). A major drawback associated with both dealerships and galleries is that they typically look to obtain a large proportion of the final selling price of a piece of art (usually 50 per cent). Super-dealers can take in commission as much as 90 per cent of the sale price of a work of art (Robertson 2005). Generally the lower the intermediary’s rate of remuneration, the less expertise and the fewer support services the intermediary is able to offer (e.g. the gallery or dealer may not want to incur any promotional costs) (see Ruston 2005). The gallery/dealer may sometimes demand exclusivity in representing an artist. Sharp and Etches (2003) warn artists not to accept such arrangements unless they are convinced it is justified (e.g. the gallery/dealer is well established and has a good reputation). Gallery space rental costs may also be high, and the use of these channels may require the artist to surrender control over the final presentation and marketing of his or her work. Another major disadvantage of using these intermediaries is that they typically promote the work of many artists simultaneously; regularly displaying an individual’s creations directly alongside those of numerous other artists. Depending on the relationship between the two parties, an intermediary may lack the motivation to give special support to an artist. For those eager for immediate publicity, exhibiting in department stores, restaurants and public spaces that display artwork for sale may be a viable option. These channels normally fulfil 367

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the same functions as galleries and incur similar disadvantages. However, a further disadvantage may be that artwork exhibited in an average restaurant or café is generally considered low end and is seen as decorative, rather than ‘artistic’. This could have a very negative effect on an artist’s career (Levine 1972; Wires 2011).

Online distribution of artwork Websites, whether shared or personal, can reach a worldwide audience at relatively low cost. The artist receives the full sale price; no mark-ups or commissions are payable. Shared websites may reach wider audiences than personal websites, especially if they are leveraged through supplemental website promotions (paid for by the site owner). The owner of a shared website is responsible for managing and maintaining the site and not the contributing artists. However, fees are sometimes payable to the site owner or, if not, the site is likely to be financed by advertisements that arguably reduce the site’s aesthetic appeal. The works of numerous competing artists will be displayed side by side or on consecutive pages; sometimes involving completely unconnected genres. (On the other hand, halo effects could occur if a person’s work appears alongside those of very well-known artists.) Although many shared websites are free to the artist, the numerous advertisements associated with these sites could potentially detract viewers from the artworks on display (Weintraub 1997). Pieces of quite disparate levels of quality might be included in the same shared website. A personal website dedicated to a single artist will only display the work of that person. Communications can be highly focused (using newsletter lists) and include blogs that offer customized messages (Arnold and Tapp 2001). Through the Internet an artist can contact prospects directly and ‘circumvent established gallery venues and formats and establish a connection with a new broadly based audience’ (Weintraub 1997: 102). Artists can organize their own online exhibitions (Kupp 2009) and are able to communicate directly with potential buyers. On the other hand, not all artists can utilize Internet-related technologies effectively, possibly resulting in amateurish approaches and poorly designed websites. Disadvantages of a personal website are the need for the artist to manage, maintain and develop the site, the large number of competing sites devoted to artwork (with consequent low viewing rates) and (as with shared sites) the facts that (a) potential customers only see photographs of items, and (b) browsers’ attention spans may be shorter than in bricks-and-mortar locations.

Other influences on successful artwork distribution It is important to recognize that critics, collectors, curators and some artists themselves can play a vital role in the successful distribution of an artist’s work. Artists’ reputations can be enhanced or contaminated by the people who own their work. If an influential collector acquires a piece of artwork, that piece of work will immediately receive the ‘value-added stamp of his provenance’ and will accrue value (Thornton 2009: 9). The reputation of the gallery that an artist has signed up with also matters. If for instance the gallery goes out of business this may have an impact on the artist’s reputation as well as his or her distribution options. Another important factor that may impact on the successful distribution of an artist’s work is ‘location’. In the USA, most influential artists eventually move to New York. Likewise, artists who want to ‘make it’ in the UK need eventually to find a base in London (Levine 1972). Whether the artist likes it or not, London is the dominant centre for art within the UK. Having a base in London means that an artist has the potential to meet prospective buyers (who are

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concentrated in and around London) in order to personalize and glamorize a potential sale, and attend the opening of important galleries and other social engagements. Dealers may also be keen to send curious buyers to an artist’s studio (Levine 1972). Entry and access to many distribution channels is determined by the value assigned to a piece of artwork (Robertson 2005). Many attributes associated with a piece of art cannot be controlled by an artist. Value may be defined by the classification of the artwork (e.g. whether it is cuttingedge or alternative) and the origins of the artwork. Also, artists from wealthier countries may be perceived to exhibit higher levels of social and cultural capital (see Towse’s (2003) discussion on this matter). The country-of-origin effect associated with an artist will therefore have some impact on whether or not that artist is chosen to be represented by a particular intermediary.

Personal branding Finally, the personal branding of an artist may be just as important for successful distribution as the visual output itself (Thornton 2009). Lehman (2009) argued that all serious visual artists (lesser known as well as the better established) needed to engage in personal branding. This was because visual artists created distinctive products, used various advertising media to promote their named (branded) work, and ‘nurtured their exclusivity’ (p. 1). A strong personal brand will clearly define and differentiate the artist, be understandable and connected with values recognized by target audiences, and be distinctive and consistent (McNally and Speak 2002). Personal branding will help an artist in his or her ‘quest for visibility’ in an increasingly cluttered marketplace (cf. Shepherd 2005: 591). Kupp (2009) commented on the ‘explosion in the number of trained and talented artists’ that operate in the UK and the consequent need for devices to make an individual stand out from the crowd (p. 1). It is relevant to note in this connection that much visual artwork is of a similar level of quality (particularly at the lower end of the market – see Crane 1987) and that intermediaries deal with large numbers of artists whose outputs they may regard as being highly substitutable (Kawashima 1999). Intermediaries might assess the quality of an individual’s outputs in relation to the artist’s personal brand (Crane 1987). The creation by an artist of a salient personal brand (sometimes equated in the art world with ‘reputation’ – see Lehman 2009: 1) may enable an artist to help a dealer or gallery owner selfjustify selecting the artist’s work (Martin 2007). Less risk may be perceived to attach to dealing with a branded artist (Bielby and Bielby 1994). Also a branded artist is likely to be better remembered and more prominent in an intermediary’s mind (cf. Shepherd 2005). Further justifications for artists developing strong personal brands are potential improvements in a supplier’s ability to influence final selling prices (Lair et al. 2005); the inculcation of perceptions among intermediaries that an artist’s work is unique (Kupp 2009); the projection of an ‘appropriately distinguishing promotional account of an artist’s artistic identity’ (O’Reilly 2005: 263); and a generally higher status for the individual within the arts world (Loomis and Saltz 1984). Kawashima (1999) observed how turbulence within the art market, in conjunction with the difficulty of predicting the artwork that will experience financial success, caused intermediaries to ‘routinize’ their selection processes in order to maximize the predictability of outcomes (p. 263). Artists with powerful personal images, Kawashima (1999) continued, fitted more easily into these routinized processes. An artist with a strong personal brand is likely to have a wider range of distribution options than an artist with no brand identity and thus may be less dependent on intermediaries. Indeed, an artist with a very powerful personal brand might be able to use this to exert some degree of control over intermediaries (e.g. over the setting of sale prices or the methods to be employed to 369

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promote an artist’s work). Arguably, moreover, the possession of a strong personal brand facilitates sales through a branded artist’s website, hence encouraging website marketing in preference to using intermediaries. A website can include pages devoted to communicating an individual’s ‘brand story’: the person’s artistic provenance and heritage, aesthetic goals, and personal and emotional experience of artistic work (O’Reilly 2005: 271). The artist’s mission, values and beliefs can be displayed prominently on a website (Fillis 2004), together with (a) a ‘positioning statement’ about the artist’s outputs and how they differ from those of other artists, and (b) a ‘persuasive and attractive account of the person’s life experiences and relevant peculiarities of the individual’s work’ (O’Reilly 2005: 271).

Key findings from a recent study on visual artists and their relationship with their primary bricks-and-mortar distributors In a recent survey of visual artists, the authors attempted to find out which types of bricks-andmortar distributors were used most frequently and most intensively by artists and why. (Artists who did not use bricks-and-mortar intermediaries or used online systems as their primary method of distribution were excluded from the study.) Out of the 220 respondents (all of whom were living and working in the UK), 57 per cent mainly used commercial galleries, 22 per cent distributed most of their work through a person or an organization that acted both as a gallery and a dealer, 10 per cent had agents and the rest worked mainly with cooperative galleries. On average, the respondents had been with their main distributor for six years; 18 per cent had remained with their main intermediary for more than ten years. Generally the participants reported good relationships with their distributors. Artists who worked with artwork intermediaries that fulfilled multiple roles were most likely to report high social (but not necessarily financial) satisfaction, followed by artists who used dealers. Artists who used agents as their primary distributors were the least financially successful. None of the artists whose main distributor was an agent reported earnings of more than £12,000 per annum. The survey covered issues of conflict, dependence and control within art distribution channels. Markey (1996), Weintraub (1997), Kawashima (1999), Ruffell (2011), Ruston (2005) and Fillis and Lee (2011) have suggested that numerous opportunities for conflict arise in dealings between artists and intermediaries. Conflict can occur vis-à-vis decisions on selling prices (and who should make final decisions on selling prices), payment terms, promotional strategies, positioning of items in galleries, dealers’ and gallery owners’ mark-ups or commissions, and copyright issues relating to limited editions. Similarly, concerns could arise over the division of promotional costs, responsibility for insurance, poor service quality provided by intermediaries, venue and display regulations. Relationship conflict could arise from intermediaries ignoring artists’ ideas and suggestions, intermediaries failing to provide feedback, poor communications between the parties, lack of trust, perceptions of unfair treatment and/or that one of the parties is abusing its power. There is moreover a large amount of evidence suggesting that artists may prefer to work with intermediaries they feel they are able to control (see Gilliland et al. 2010). The study completed by the authors of the current chapter hypothesized that an artist who was entrepreneurial and had detailed knowledge of the workings of the art market was perhaps more likely to feel better able to control his or her distribution channels (Kottász and Bennett 2006; Fillis and Lee 2011), a result confirmed by the survey. This is interesting in light of evidence that suggests that artists are more often than not ‘notoriously eclectic, disdainful of business customs’ and ‘generally ignorant’ of the business world (Clarke and Flaherty 2002: 150). As a result they might prefer

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intermediaries to do the selling on their behalf (Kawashima 1999). O’Reilly (2005) noted that many UK artists sold their artwork occasionally but unpredictably, supplemented their incomes by teaching art to others, and had neither the time nor the resources to investigate potential markets for their outputs. These assertions imply that many (if not most) artists will prefer to use distributors, will feel dependent and will not be able to exercise much control over their distributor. If control is really that important to the artist, conflict between the two parties can most certainly be on the cards. Fifteen per cent of respondents to the survey reported the presence of substantial conflict with their primary distributors. The most common conflict arising between artists and their primary distributors related to fees. More specifically, artists who had to pay more than one type of fee to their distributor (e.g. rental fees as well as charges for support services) were significantly more likely to report the presence of conflict. Ruston (2005) reminds artists of the risks that distributors take in choosing to promote an artist and warns artists of the importance of understanding commission rates and the terms and conditions provided by intermediaries. Understanding contracts and agreements, the costs involved in promoting and selling art and having realistic expectations about income, fees and price structures are vital precursors to a successful relationship. Finally artists must not forget that prices may reflect the varying degrees of uncertainty associated with selling recognized/established artists versus young untested artists (see Peterson 1997). Forty per cent of the survey respondents felt that they could exert significant control over their distributors. Interestingly these respondents did not tend to be the artists who claimed to be particularly entrepreneurial or knowledgeable about the art market. They were however artists who reported relatively high earnings (£50,000 per annum or more). Another finding of interest is that artists who had invested in developing strong personal brands (63 per cent of participants reported this to be the case) also felt better able to control their intermediary than individuals who did not consciously engage in branding activities.

Conclusions The number of options available for visual artists to distribute and sell their outputs has grown over the years. As well as exhibiting in traditional bricks-and-mortar channels (galleries and dealerships), artists have the opportunity to create a platform and sell their work through the Internet (on personal and shared websites), in public places not primarily dedicated to art (cafés and furniture stores) and also through more informal channels such as inventory or art parties and artist-curated shows. Some of these distribution options enable the artist to circumvent often inaccessible traditional bricks-and-mortar channels. Many professional artists try their luck with many if not all of these options. Mixing and matching various distribution methods will increase the artist’s chance of success. However, if more than one distribution option is employed, the principles of consistency and synergy have to be considered. Consistency between distribution options is important from a positioning point of view; ideally distributors will be similarly positioned to each other and to the artist. Synergy between distribution options and the personal image of the artist will ensure that these ‘tools’ are mutually reinforcing. Marketing an artist through different intermediaries and creating a communication link (for instance promoting the artist’s personal website at a particular exhibition) between these intermediaries will increase the exposure and visibility of the artist. Visual artists need to consider the selection of distribution options in the context of their long-term objectives. At the fundamental level, artists need to question their priorities and whether their major objective is for instance to make profitable art aimed at the masses, or to 371

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create ‘challenging’ work intended for more esteemed channels. These long-term goals will help an artist narrow down and select appropriate channels of distribution. Different intermediaries may serve different purposes. As previously mentioned, some dealers will only deal in specific niche markets; others will only work with established artists. Some distributors have objectives (profit versus educationally driven) that conflict with the artist’s mission. Researching and identifying the various players in the market can ensure that artists do not waste their time approaching inappropriate distributors. Artists who prefer to shun any activity that is of a business nature still need to understand the market and the actors involved in it in order to pick the optimal business partner. New artists graduating from art college are rarely lucky enough to attract prospective buyers, critics or dealers to their degree shows or to get personal recommendations or commissions at the outset of their careers. Understanding how the contemporary art market operates (options, contracts, agreements) is crucial in creating realistic expectations, and also for negotiating purposes. A knowledgeable artist is in a better position to negotiate and will have more confidence and control when dealing with intermediaries. Visual artists have cause to be optimistic. Although there is more competition than in the past, there are also more opportunities. Previously, access to markets was determined by a select few and artwork was judged by gatekeepers on a subjective basis (Robertson 2005). Artists today can enjoy a much easier passage of entry to an art career (Benhamou in Towse 2003). Within the contemporary art market, relationships between the artist, the artwork and the art buyer are much more varied. These dimensions also create opportunities. The gatekeepers are still there but there are more and more avenues available to circumvent historical channels. Furthermore, the visibility that can be created by using these new methods of distribution can increase the chance of a little known artist being noticed and consequently entering more esteemed channels.

Further reading Bamberger, A. (2007) The Art of Buying Art, Phoenix AZ: LTB Gordonsart Inc, 2nd Edition. (This is an easily digestible book about buying, selling, appraising and collecting art.) Chong, D. (2002) Arts Management, London: Routledge. (This book offers a critical overview of arts management and addresses the artistic, managerial and social obligations of contemporary urban arts organisations.) http://www.artbusiness.com/ (Alan Bamberger’s (fine art appraiser and consultant) website, http://www. artbusiness.com, provides many practical articles and regular updates on art business issues for dealers, collectors and artists. Articles specifically aimed at artists deal with a variety of topics including the legal aspects of artist–dealer relationships, the pros and cons of showing art at non-art venues, pricing artwork realistically, photographing for online purposes, etc.) http://www.artinfo.com (One of the most comprehensive websites for the world of art and culture. The site offers mini-sites for galleries and museums around the world, global art venue directories, daily art news, and advice about collecting art.) http://www.axisweb.org/ (An online resource for contemporary art which features profiles of professional artists and curators, regular updates about art news and provides a forum for debates and discussion around contemporary art issues.)

References Arnold, M. and Tapp, S. (2001) “The Effects of Direct Marketing Techniques on Performance: An Application to Arts Organizations”, Journal of Interactive Marketing 15 (3), 41–52.

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Aschenbrenner , M. ( 2009 ) “Get Your Art into a Gallery, Learn to Art: Promotion and Exhibition” , November 6, accessed 13 March 2012 at: http://www.learntoart.com/index.php/archives/promotionand-exhibition/get-your-art-into-a-gallery/ Bielby, W. and Bielby, D. (1994) “All Hits Are Flukes: Institutionalized Decision Making and the Rhetoric of Network Prime-Time Program Development”, American Journal of Sociology 99, 1287–1313. Clarke, I. and Flaherty, T. (2002) “Marketing Fine Art on the Internet: Issues and Ideas”, International Journal of Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Marketing 7 (2), 146–160. Crane, D. (1987) The Transformation of the Avant Garde, London: University of Chicago Press. Fillis, I. (2004) “The Entrepreneurial Artist as Marketer: Drawing from the Smaller Firm Literature”, International Journal of Arts Management 7 (1), 9–21. Fillis, I. and Lee, B. (2011) “Internationalization of Korean Performing Arts”, European Journal of Marketing 45 (5), 822–846. Gilliland, D., Bello, D. and Gundlach, G. (2010) “Control Based Channel Governance and Relative Dependence”, Journal of the Academy of Marketing Science 38 (4), 441–455. Hoang, H. and Antoncic, B. (2003) “Network-Based Research in Entrepreneurship: A Critical Review”, Journal of Business Venturing 18 (2), 165–187. House of Commons Report (2005) “The Market for Art”, House of Commons, Culture, Media and Sport Committee, Sixth Report of Session, 2004–2005, 6 April, London: The Stationery Office. Independent (2010) “Relax News: Follow Your Favorite Artists on Twitter”, The Independent, Sunday 17 January, accessed 12 March 2012 at: http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/music/news/ follow-your-favorite-artists-on-twitter-1870587.html Jeffrey, S. (2006) “Art: You Have to Laugh Really”, The Guardian Online, 14 November, accessed 12 March 2012 at: http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/2006/nov/14/art Jeffri, J. (1980) The Emerging Arts: Management Survival and Growth, New York: Praeger Special Studies. Jones, S. (2010) “Navigating the Visual Arts”, in Jones, S., The Artists’ Yearbook 2010/2011, 372–384, London: Thames and Hudson. Kawashima, N. (1999) “Distribution of the Arts: British Arts Centres as Gatekeepers in Intersecting Cultural Production Systems”, Poetics 26 (2), 263–283. Kazumori, E. and McMillan, J. (2005) “Selling Online Versus Live”, Journal of Industrial Economics 53 (4), 543–569. Key Note Report (2011) Arts and Media Sponsorship Market Report April 2011, London: Key Note. Kottász, R. and Bennett, R. (2006) “Ethnocentric Tendencies Amongst Arts Audiences”, International Journal of Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Marketing 11 (4), 303–318. Kupp, M. (2009) “How to Build Yourself a New Market: Lessons from Damien Hirst”, accessed 3 November 2011 at: http://www.goodentrepreneur.com Lair, D., Sullivan, K. and Cheney, G. (2005) “Marketisation and the Recasting of the Professional Self: The Rhetoric and Ethics of Personal Branding”, Management Communication Quarterly 18 (3), 307–343. Lehman, K. (2009) “Self-Marketing and the Visual Artist”, Proceedings of the 10th International Conference on Arts and Cultural Management, 121–126, Dallas, TX: Association of Arts and Cultural Management. Levine, E.M. (1972) “Chicago’s Art World”, Urban Life and Culture 1, 292–322. Loomis, M. and Saltz, E. (1984) “Cognitive Styles as Predictors of Artistic Styles”, Journal of Personality 52 (1), 22–35. McIntyre, M. (2004) Taste Buds: How to Cultivate the Art Market, London: Arts Council of England. McNally, D. and Speak, K. (2002) Be Your Own Brand: A Breakthrough Formula for Standing Out from the Crowd, San Francisco, CA: Berrett-Koehler. Markey, R. (1996) “Marginal Workers in the Big Picture: Unionization of Visual Artists”, Journal of Industrial Relations 38 (1), 22–41. Martin, B. (2007) “How Visual Artists Enter the Contemporary Art Market in France: A Dynamic Approach Based on a Network of Tests”, International Journal of Arts Management 9 (3), 16–33. O’Reilly, D. (2005) “The Marketing–Creativity Interface: A Case Study of a Visual Artist”, International Journal of Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Marketing 10 (4), 263–274. Peterson, K. (1997) “The Distribution and Dynamics of Uncertainty in Art Galleries: A Case Study of New Dealerships in the Parisian Art Market, 1985–1990”, Poetics 25, 241–263. Robertson, I. (2005) Understanding International Art Markets and Management, London: Routledge. Ruffell, C. (2011) How to Make a Living as an Artist, ebook, London: Colin Ruffell. Ruston, A. (2005) The Artist’s Guide to Selling Work, London: Fine Art Trade Guild.

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Sharp, N. and Etches, S. (2003) “Gallery, Dealer and Agent Agreements”, accessed 2 April 2012 at: http:// www.an.co.uk/knowledge_bank/shortcut/article/91424 Shepherd, I. (2005) “From Cattle and Coke to Charlie: Meeting the Challenge of Self Marketing and Personal Branding”, Journal of Marketing Management 21 (5–6), 589–606. Simek, P. (2012) “Alden Pinnell’s Power Station: Where the Art Elite and the Riffraff Meet”, 22 February, D Magazine, accessed 2 April 2012 at: http://www.dmagazine.com/Home/D_Magazine/2012/ March/Alden_Pinnell_Power_Station_Where_the_Art_Elite_and_Riffraff_Meet.aspx Singer, L.P. (1988) “Phenomenology and Economics of Art Markets: An Art Historical Perspective”, Journal of Cultural Economics 12 (1), 27–40. Skinny Artist (2010) “21 Artists to Watch in 2010”, Featured Artists: Twitter, accessed 2 April 2012 at: http://skinnyartist.com/21-artists-to-watch-in-2010/ Thornton, S. (2009) Seven Days in the Art World, London: Granta Books. Towse, R. (2003) Handbook of Cultural Economics, Cheltenham: Edward Elgar. UK Art Galleries and Fine Art Dealers Online Directory, accessed 2 April 2012 at: http://www.art-galleriesuk.co.uk/ Villarica, H. (2010) The Internet and Art: Why Chicago Dealers are Selling More Online than in Galleries, Chicago, IL: Medill Reports, Northwestern University. Weintraub, A. (1997) “Art on the Web”, Communications of the ACM 40 (10), 97–102. Wires, W. (2011) Private Correspondence with Contemporary Artist: William Wires, 15 December. Zacharow, C. (2011) Private Correspondence with Contemporary Artist: Christopher Zacharow, 4 December.

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34 UNDERSTANDING AUDIENCES AND MARKETING THEATER Ben Walmsley

Introduction Theater has been described as a sociological public event that begins and ends with the spectator (Bennett 1997; Elam 1980). This definition has implications for how the traditional marketing mix (product, price, place, promotion) is applied to theater: if theater begins and ends with the spectator, then the audience’s role must be central; and if theater is a sociological event based around producing experiences for the public, then it needs to be marketed in a way that is commensurate with sociological norms. Insights from social, event and experiential marketing can assist theater marketers in applying a version of the marketing concept tailored to these norms. Indeed as an emerging discipline, arts marketing owes much to these niche disciplines, as it does to wider fields of enquiry such as psychology and consumer behavior. The aim of this chapter is to present an authoritative review of the main questions, issues and findings regarding the marketing of theater to audiences. The chapter is designed to provide an insightful introduction to the topic for those who are new to it as well as a critical overview of the core themes and recent developments for more experienced arts marketers. Audiences vary from art form to art form (Fraser et al. 2004), so this chapter will explore the particular opportunities and challenges that theater presents to marketers. By evaluating some idiosyncratic aspects of the theater consumption experience, it will tease out the implications for arts marketing and point towards avenues for future exploration. The chapter will focus in detail on aspects of spectatorship and scrutinize the audience experience. It will consider the special roles that space and touring play in theater and assess the implications of this on the marketing mix. It will then summarize and synthesize recent research on the audience experience, before discussing recent trends in theater and considering the implications of these for the theater marketers of the future.

What’s special about theater? Like marketing, theater involves a two-way process of interactive communication and at face value these commonalities make theater an ideal art form to market. On another level, however, the live, interactive nature of theater, the mystique surrounding the creative process and the complex psychology behind the audience experience make theater arguably one of the hardest products to market. Indeed many people working in the theater sector would challenge and even perhaps be 375

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offended by the application of generic marketing terminology such as ‘product’ and ‘consumption’ to something they perceive as profoundly experiential and sometimes almost even sacred. So if theater is not a typical product, how can we define it in marketing terms and what implications does this have for theater marketers? We could borrow the Cultural Studies term ‘symbolic product’ (Williams 1958), used to denote ‘prestige, pride and identity goods’ (Khalil 2000). We could employ the more traditional marketing nomenclature of ‘intangible product’, employed to describe products that can’t be inspected or tried out in advance (Levitt 1981). Or we could acknowledge the experiential nature of theater and opt for hedonic or experiential products (Hirschman and Holbrook 1982). Alternatively, we could adopt a neoinstitutionalist approach by rejecting the reification of theater altogether and defining it as an ‘experience’ rather than a product. This implies a significant re-conceptualization of the marketing mix, for if we are rejecting the cornerstone of the mix, the other elements may also be affected. We will revisit this idea in the course of the chapter, but we can already see the significance that hedonic and experiential perspectives on marketing might have when applied to the realm of theater.

Spectatorship and experience The word ‘theater’ comes from the Ancient Greek word ‘theatron’, which can be translated as ‘a place for viewing’, and since the days of the Ancient Greek festivals and play competitions (and indeed far beyond), the theater experience has been based on this primitive ritual of spectatorship. So there is something inherently voyeuristic about theater which has stood the test of time, and despite all the noise about interactive and immersive theater, the vast majority of theater audiences are still happy to watch a play rather than participate in it. However, Performance Studies research is increasingly challenging the conception of spectatorship as a passive form of engagement. For example, Reason (2010) argues that theater audiences are engaged in ‘a kind of doing’ when they suspend disbelief during a play, or in an ‘emotional doing’ when they ‘invest sympathy with the characters or performance’ (p. 19). He goes on to suggest that theatergoing represents an embodied kinesthetic experience: The audience experience might also be considered an intersubjective doing, through kinaesthetic empathy with the movement and presence of people in space. Each of these possibilities constructs the audience experience as something embodied, something present in descriptions of audiences as not just watching and listening to a performance with their eyes and ears but experiencing it with their whole bodies. (Reason 2010: 19) This notion of the theater audience as active and bodily engaged is an important one which adds further weight to the re-categorization of theater as an experience rather than a product. It also encapsulates a long history of alternative perspectives of theater, such as Brecht’s Epic theater, which aimed to reject and disrupt the supposedly bourgeois phenomena of empathy, catharsis and the suspension of disbelief through a considered process of alienation. Another example of this is Boal’s Forum theater, which fostered the practice of ‘spect-actorship’ to encourage audiences to intervene in a performance and to change the world by finding their own resolutions to the conflicts presented on the stage (Boal 1979). These perceptions of spectatorship as an active process are enduring and, once again, they offer both challenges and opportunities for theater marketers. One obvious challenge is how to

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capture and market this process in copy and imagery; a related opportunity perhaps lies in the technology and peer-to-peer marketing facilitated by digital marketing: rich, dynamic content lends itself much better to capturing the essence of active spectatorship, just as social media can enhance audience-to-audience networks.

Touring Theater has been an itinerant art form ever since the days of the troubadours. In the post-modern context, it is important to note that theater is both a place and an action, encompassing not just the venue where a play is staged, but the very act of performance itself. This quirk again impinges fundamentally on the marketing mix, because if the place element considers where a ‘product’ is bought and ‘consumed’, the fact that a theater is a place as well as an action raises questions about the relationship between a play and the venue it is performed in, and about the control that a touring company has on both the point of sale and the augmented product. If, as noted earlier, theater should be perceived as an experience, then where it is performed will have a profound influence on the nature of that experience. While touring has always been a mainstay of the performing arts, in recent years there has been a migration away from traditional performance spaces, and the rising trend of site-specific and site-responsive theater has seen theater performed in a vast array of weird and wonderful spaces, from hotel rooms and tower blocks to swimming pools and ferries. In the UK, this trend has even led to new business models such as the national touring company structure adopted by the National Theatre of Scotland and National Theatre Wales. This development has gradually refocused the attention of theater-makers from places to spaces, which again challenges the relevance and suitability of the marketing mix in the context of the art form of theater.

Rural theater Many cultures have a rich tradition of rural theater and these new national companies have embraced this tradition by taking theater out to their most rural communities. It has been argued that rural theater requires a fundamentally different marketing approach (Walmsley 2012). Kotler et al. (2007) define rural marketing as any marketing activity in which one dominant participant is from a rural area, whereas Modi (2009) argues that rural marketing needs to develop its own theory, concepts and frameworks and defines it in terms of the impact it has on the developmental of rural people, not merely as the flow of goods towards them. Rural theater once again presents a set of specific challenges and opportunities to theater marketers. Before the new national companies entered the fray, experimental and politically motivated companies such as France’s Théâtre du Soleil and Scotland’s 7:84 led the way in engaging with rural communities, placing issues of rurality at the heart of their visions. The founder of 7:84, John McGrath, championed theater’s duty to engage with all audiences and argued that ‘theater must use all possible means to reach every citizen in the demos, and not itself act as an excluding agency, whether by the price of its tickets … its location or its impenetrability’ (McGrath 2002: 138). Recognizing this need to adapt its marketing to be more inclusive, Théâtre du Soleil has been engaging with rural communities for decades to learn from direct experience what kind of work is wanted by them (Webb 1980). There is something fundamentally different about rural performances, which render them more intimate, communal and social. This presents a huge opportunity for theater marketers, 377

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because rural theater can offer a more powerful, interactive and authentic experience for performers and audiences alike: Rural touring is not a poor substitute for the kind of experience offered by urban arts venues. It is qualitatively different in several respects. The facilities may not be as good, but the intimacy of the space, the opportunity to meet the performers, the fact that most of the audience know each other – these and other factors give a village hall show a unique power. … Both artists and audiences consistently feel that such shows are exciting, memorable and have a quality which is distinctly valuable. (Matarasso 2004: 10–11) However, the poor facilities and infrastructure provided by many rural venues mean that even standard marketing activity can face a number of challenges. The box office in a rural venue can often be a table in the porch of a village hall, so there is no customer relationship management (CRM) system and only limited time and space for conversion or advanced selling. Personal selling can be extremely effective, but it usually involves voluntary promoters knocking on doors to tell their neighbors about the show. Social media marketing is unlikely to work effectively due to the aging populations and poor broadband connections in many rural communities; and in a village of a few hundred people, advertising is often restricted to a handful of posters, which therefore take on a heightened role. On the plus side, word-of-mouth marketing can be particularly effective in small rural communities, as can the use of carefully chosen ambassadors (Walmsley 2012).

Audience research At the beginning of the chapter we noted that theater begins and ends with the audience. Hill et al. (2003) describe the audience’s part in the creative process as follows: ‘Only when the public experiences what the artist wishes to communicate is the creative process complete’ (p. 36). Hill et al. allocate three distinct roles to audiences: ‘arts receptors’, stakeholders and customers (p. 37). But considering their comment about the elemental presence of the audience, these three roles appear somewhat reductive: if audiences are active spectators who are essential to the ultimate purpose of making meaning out of the theater experience, then their role needs to extend to one of collaboration and co-creation (Boorsma 2006). In the theater context, marketing research is essentially concerned with profiling and understanding current and potential audiences. This process involves exploring why audiences choose to go to the theater; how they can be segmented; how they behave before, during and after their theater experiences; and what value and impact they derive from their theatergoing. Let’s now explore these questions in more depth.

Motivation A primary focus for theater marketers is to understand what makes audiences engage with theater in the first place. The most comprehensive qualitative study into audience motivation dates back to 1995, when Bergadaà and Nyeck undertook a comparative survey of the underlying motivations of theater-goers and -makers. The researchers identified four motivational typologies for theatergoing: escapism and entertainment; edutainment; personal enrichment; and social hedonism. They then matched these motivations against underlying values, namely

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hedonism, social conformism, personal development and communal pleasure, respectively (Bergadaà and Nyeck 1995). Their findings were broadly confirmed by a more recent qualitative study of theatergoing, which found that the key driver for attendance was the pursuit of emotional experiences and impact, followed by edutainment, escapism and spending quality time with partners, friends and family (Walmsley 2011). There is increasing evidence that theater audiences are seeking meaningful, quasi-spiritual experiences when engaging with theater and this seems to be related to the current popularity of site-specific, site-sensitive and immersive theater. Other motivational studies have focused more on audience participation (e.g. Brown et al. 2011; Matarasso 1997). These types of studies consider the changing nature of audience behavior and motivation and indicate that the lines are blurring between spectatorship and participation. For example, Brown et al. (2011) contend that arts participation ‘is being redefined as people increasingly choose to engage with art in new, more active and expressive ways’ (p. 3). They too determine a range of audience typologies (spectating, enhanced engagement, crowd sourcing, co-creation and audience-as-artist), which they plot on an ‘audience involvement spectrum’ ranging from ‘receptive’ at one end to ‘participatory’ at the other. The advantage of these studies is that they segment audiences psychographically in relation to their propensity for interaction. As theater gradually morphs into a more participatory art form, this type of motivational segmentation will become increasingly important for marketers if they are to succeed in tailoring the marketing offer in line with the changing demands of audiences: ‘Effective organisations will have an increasing need, and appetite, for the complexity of motivational, emotional, attributional and behavioural data’ (Pincus 2004: 386).

Behavior Another important focus of audience research is to provide insights into how audiences behave. Computerized box offices have hugely facilitated this task, as marketers can now run reports with a click of a mouse to analyze their patrons’ buying patterns. This not only assists with segmentation and cross-selling, but can help to spot trends in audience behavior based on real and recent data; and when combined with geo-demographic segmentation, behavioral segmentation can be extremely effective in targeting theater marketing campaigns. Another important element of behavioral research is provided by qualitative, psychological enquiries. This type of research explores how audiences experience and interact with theater. It analyzes how theatergoers prepare for and anticipate their theater experiences, evaluates their emotional and kinesthetic engagement with a play and investigates how they decode and make sense of it afterwards. This approach has highlighted to theater-makers the importance of preand post-liminal activity and has advocated an increase in post-show events to encourage and facilitate the decoding process. As audiences continue to seek out authentic and meaningful experiences, it is likely that the role of theater marketers will increasingly be focused on valueenhancing activities.

Impact and value Kotler and Armstrong describe the aim of marketing as creating value for customers and capturing value from them in return (2010: 26). This concept of marketing is useful for theater marketers as it places value and audiences at the heart of marketing activity. But it inevitably raises the questions of how audiences perceive the value they derive from theater and what reciprocal value theater companies can capture from their audiences. Chong (2010) also raises the issue of value, questioning whether arts marketers are perceived as image promoters or value creators. 379

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Audience research and innovative forms of arts evaluation are starting to provide some answers to these questions. Recent studies into the audience experience (e.g. Radbourne et al. 2009; Brown and Novak 2007; Radbourne et al. 2010; New Economics Foundation 2008; White and Hede 2008) have provided fresh insights into audiences’ perceptions of value and have articulated value in the following terms: emotional impact, stimulation and flight; engagement and captivation; knowledge and risk; authenticity and collective engagement; learning and challenge; energy and tension; shared experience and atmosphere; personal resonance and inspiration; empowerment and renewal; aesthetic growth and self-actualization; improved social skills, better relationships and family cohesion. These insights provide much fertile ground for theater marketers. On a simple level, they indicate what kinds of epithets might yield the best results in marketing copy. On a higher plane, they suggest that marketers could enhance the impact of theater by facilitating captivation (for example by using atmospherics), by providing more background context (for example by providing online program notes) and by maximizing the collective experience (by encouraging audience interaction, for example). But above all, these findings highlight the need for a fresh conceptualization of the value exchange at the heart of the marketing concept and for a new form of relationship marketing that is ‘interactive, longitudinal, individual and contextual’ (Payne et al. 2008: 93). Boorsma and Chiaravalloti (2010) call for arts organizations to evaluate their marketing strategies according to artistic, rather than purely financial, objectives. The findings of recent audience research into impact suggest that marketing activity should be evaluated in terms of long-term relationship building focused on maximizing value. This implies that the traditional focus on price should shift towards a broader, more artistic focus on value.

Trends At this point in the chapter, it is worth considering how theater is developing as an art form and what the future implications of this might be for theater marketers. Although many changes are taking place in theater marketing departments, not least regarding social media and the specter of dynamic pricing, a review of the academic and vocational literature reveals that the most significant developments in the art form itself are taking place in co-creation, immersive theater and live streaming.

Co-production and co-creation In the post-modern, relational view of the arts, audiences are increasingly considered as coproducers rather than passive consumers (Boorsma 2006). Audience-focused theater companies are increasingly involving their audiences in the creative process, which is their equivalent of product development. Co-creation has been described as ‘the art of with’ (Leadbeater 2009: 5) and, at face value, co-creation aims to fulfill the traditional marketing function of maximizing consumer satisfaction and value (Drucker 1958). The process of being engaged in the creative process can stoke audiences’ anticipation and assist their decoding process, which in turn can heighten the impact of a play: ‘The spectator comes to the theater as a member of an already constituted interpretive community and also brings a horizon of expectations shaped by the preperformance elements’ (Bennett 1997: 139). Some authors distinguish between co-creation and co-production. For example, Grönroos (2011) argues that co-production implies consumers participating in the production phases whereas co-creation is linked to the creation of consumer value. Boorsma (2006) takes a similar

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view, arguing that audiences should not be ‘actively involved before the artistic idea has developed its form’ but that they play a central role as ‘co-producers in the final stage of the art process by giving meaning to the artefact by means of their imaginative powers’ (p. 85). Considering our earlier discussion on value, this perspective provides a useful insight into the role that theater audiences can play in the value-exchange relationship they enter into with theater artists and companies, which is especially important since co-creation has been credited with maximizing the lifetime value of desirable customer groups (Payne and Frow 2005). Brown et al. (2011) make a different distinction, namely between co-creation and ‘audience-as-artist’. They divide participants’ level of creative control into three realms – curatorial, interpretive and inventive – and deduce that co-creation exists when audiences ‘contribute something to an artistic experience curated by a professional artist’ (p. 4). If we accept Grönroos’s (2011) distinction between co-production and co-creation, we might deduce that while the former attracts a niche, highly participatory audience, co-creation is the function and indeed responsibility of everyone. As an emerging practice, co-production raises particular challenges for theater marketers, who are still grappling to define and understand it and therefore struggling to price and market it effectively.

Immersive theater A good example of co-creation at play is provided by the rising phenomenon of immersive theater. As discussed earlier in the chapter, theater audiences are becoming increasingly participative and seeking riskier, more affecting experiences. This has led to a rise in immersive theater, an emerging form of theater that provides intense, intimate experiences for small groups of audiences, often in a promenade format and/or in a site-specific context. In Europe, the key proponents of the form are the Belgian collective Ontroerend Goed and the UK-based companies Punchdrunk and Look Left Look Right. The artistic practices of these companies are based on the established traditions of relational art, which seek ‘to establish inter-subjective encounters … in which meaning is elaborated collectively’ (Bishop 2004: 52–54). The collaborative elaboration of meaning has been a recurrent theme in this chapter. It possibly explains the rise in popularity of both immersive and co-created theater and suggests that the theater marketer of the future will need to work much more collaboratively with audiences. Theater marketing will therefore need to move gradually away from promotion and adopt a partnership model of engagement, in which marketers and audiences collaborate to derive and articulate the value and impact of theater together.

Live streaming The final trend that is shaping the direction of contemporary theater is live streaming or ‘simulcasting’. This trend can be traced back to New York’s Metropolitan Opera’s live streaming in high definition of an English-language version of Mozart’s The Magic Flute on December 30, 2006. The international success of the Met’s venture soon inspired theater companies to copy the model, and a number of theaters in the USA and Europe are now simulcasting their live productions. While live streaming is still very much in its infancy, some indicative research from the UK’s National Endowment for Science, Technology and the Arts (NESTA) on the National Theatre’s 2009 NT Live season has confirmed the significance of the live element of performance (even when watched remotely) and concluded that live streaming can succeed in enticing non-traditional audiences into theaters and can actually produce a more emotionally engaging experience than watching theater live (NESTA 2010). 381

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It seems certain that this trend is set to continue because it offers untold audience development opportunities, as well as a potentially lucrative new income stream, for many beleaguered theater companies. This development again fundamentally impacts on the place element of the marketing mix, raising yet further questions about the mix’s ongoing validity for theater marketing.

Conclusion It has been argued that arts marketing problems require ‘creative solutions supported by rigorous research’ (Dennis et al. 2011: 7). By reviewing some of the most significant studies into theater marketing, we have seen in this chapter how theater raises many challenges for marketers and ultimately challenges the very concept of marketing itself. If we agree (and we may not, of course) that it is more appropriate to refer to theater as an ‘experience’ rather than a ‘product’; that ‘space’ is a more appropriate term than ‘place’ to describe the reflexivity of this experience; that ‘value’ conveys the collaborative relationship of theater more effectively than ‘price’; and that ‘engagement’ captures developments such as co-creation more accurately than ‘promotion’, then we must accept the need to fundamentally reconfigure and reconceptualize the marketing mix. Boorsma (2006) claims that if arts organizations want to survive in the competitive global world of tourism and leisure, they will have to develop their audiences’ capacity to co-create and deepen their engagement through increasingly ‘entire’ experiences. Theater is well placed to provide entire, authentic and meaningful experiences; the challenge for marketers remains to maximize the value that audiences derive from theater by developing their capacity to decode it.

Further reading Arai, Susan and Pedlar, Alison (2003) ‘Moving beyond individualism in leisure theory: a critical analysis of concepts of community and social engagement’, Leisure Studies, 22 (3): 185–202. Bennett, Susan (1997) Theater Audiences: A Theory of Production and Reception, London: Routledge.

References Bennett, S. (1997) Theatre Audiences: A Theory of Production and Reception, London: Routledge. Bergadaà, M. and Nyeck, S. (1995) ‘Quel marketing pour les activités artistiques: une analyse qualitative comparée des motivations des consommateurs et producteurs de théâtre’, Recherche et Applications en Marketing, 10 (4): 27–46. Bishop, C. (2004) ‘Antagonism and relational aesthetics’, October, 110: 51–79. Boal, A. (1979) Theatre of the Oppressed, London: Pluto Press. Boorsma, M. (2006) ‘A strategic logic for arts marketing: integrating customer value and artistic objectives’, International Journal of Cultural Policy, 12 (1): 73–92. Boorsma, M. and Chiaravalloti, F. (2010) ‘Arts marketing performance: an artistic-mission-led approach to evaluation’, Journal of Arts Management, Law and Society, 40 (4): 297–317. Brown, A.S. and Novak, J.L. (2007) Assessing the Intrinsic Impacts of a Live Performance, San Francisco, CA: WolfBrown. Brown, A.S., Novak-Leonard, J.L. and Gilbride, S. (2011) Getting In On the Act: How Arts Groups are Creating Opportunities for Active Participation, San Francisco, CA: James Irvine Foundation. Chong, D. (2010) Arts Management, London: Routledge. Dennis, N., Larsen, G. and Macaulay, M. (2011) ‘Terraforming arts marketing’, Arts Marketing: An International Journal, 1 (1): 5–10. Drucker, P. (1958) ‘Marketing and economic development’, Journal of Marketing, 22 (1): 251–259. Elam, K. (1980) The Semiotics of Theatre and Drama, London: Methuen. Fraser, P., Kerrigan, F. and Özbilgin, M. (2004) ‘Key issues in arts marketing’. In Kerrigan, F., Fraser, P. and Özbilgin, M. (eds.) Arts Marketing, Oxford: Elsevier.

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Grönroos, C. (2011) ‘Value co-creation in service logic: a critical analysis’, Marketing Theory, 11 (3): 279–301. Hill, L., O’Sullivan, C. and O’Sullivan, T. (2003) Creative Arts Marketing, Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann. Hirschman, E.C. and Holbrook, M.B. (1982) ‘Hedonic consumption: emerging concepts, methods and propositions’, Journal of Marketing, 46 (3): 92–101. Khalil, E.L. (2000) ‘Symbolic products: prestige, pride and identity goods’, Theory and Decision, 49 (1): 53–77. Kotler, P. and Armstrong, G. (2010) Principles of Marketing, Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall. Kotler, P., Keller, K., Koshy, A. and Jha, M. (2007) Marketing Management: A South Asian Perspective, New Delhi: Pearson Prentice-Hall. Leadbeater, C. (2009) The Art of With, Manchester: Cornerhouse. Levitt, T. (1981) ‘Marketing intangible products and product intangibles’, Harvard Business Review, 59: 94–102. McGrath, J. (2002) ‘Theatre and democracy’, New Theatre Quarterly, 18 (2): 133–139. Matarasso, F. (1997) Use or Ornament? The Social Impact of Participation in the Arts, Stroud: Comedia. Matarasso, F. (2004) Only Connect: Arts Touring and Rural Communities, Stroud: Comedia. Modi, P. (2009) ‘Rural marketing: its definition and development perspective’, International Journal of Rural Management, 5 (1): 91–104. NESTA (2010) Beyond Live: Digital Innovation in the Performing Arts, London: NESTA. New Economics Foundation (2008) Capturing the Audience Experience: A Handbook for the Theatre, London: New Economics Foundation. Payne, A.F. and Frow, P. (2005) ‘A strategic framework for customer relationship management’, Journal of Marketing, 69 (4): 167–176. Payne, A.F., Storbacka, K. and Frow, P. (2008) ‘Managing the co-creation of value’, Journal of the Academy of Marketing Science, 36: 83–96. Pincus, J. (2004) ‘The consequences of unmet needs: the evolving role of motivation in consumer research’, Journal of Consumer Behaviour, 3 (4): 375–387. Radbourne, J., Johanson, K., Glow, H. and White, T. (2009) ‘The audience experience: measuring quality in the performing arts’, International Journal of Arts Management, 11 (3): 16–29. Radbourne, J., Glow, H. and Johanson, K. (2010) ‘Measuring the intrinsic benefits of arts attendance’, Cultural Trends, 19 (4): 307–324. Reason, M. (2010) ‘Asking the audience: audience research and the experience of theatre’, About Performance 10: 15–34. Walmsley, B. (2011) ‘Why people go to the theatre: a qualitative study of audience motivation’, Journal of Customer Behaviour, 10 (4): 335–351. Walmsley, B. (2012) ‘Re-defining rural marketing: insights from touring theatre’, International Journal of Rural Management, 8 (1/2): 47–60. Webb, R.C. (1980) ‘The spectator as creator in contemporary French theatre’, Theatre Research International, 5 (3): 205–218. White, T.R. and Hede, A.-M. (2008) ‘Using narrative inquiry to explore the impact of art on individuals’, Journal of Arts Management, Law and Society, 38 (1): 19–35. Williams, R. (1958) Culture and Society, London: Chatto and Windus.

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35 THE MARKETING OF ORCHESTRAS AND SYMPHONY CONCERTS David Patmore

Introduction The marketing of symphony orchestras and of symphony concerts is a relatively specialized area of arts marketing, which draws upon a number of traditional methods. However, when fully developed and combined with subscription selling, these approaches present an extremely powerful method for both audience and art form development. The advent of the Internet and social media channels has now provided orchestras and concert promoting bodies with the tools to build on successes already achieved, with the objective of binding audiences ever close to them. This chapter will briefly consider traditional methods of concert promotion, followed by an examination of the grammar of subscription marketing, which is the key tool in audience building for orchestras and concert giving bodies. It will conclude with a number of case studies contrasting how different orchestras across the world are currently using the Internet and social media to build further audiences and achievements.

Traditional approaches to concert promotion: single concerts and subscription Concert promotion varies across the world. In the United Kingdom there are still many promoters, be they either orchestras or third party promoting bodies such as local concert giving series, which will promote each concert they present ‘from the ground up’. This is often a timeconsuming and relatively inefficient method of concert promotion, in that the same amount of effort has to be expended on each event, with little leverage from one concert to the next. Festivals are able to get over this problem to some extent by promoting together all the performances that take place during the umbrella event. Nonetheless the basic mechanics of single concert promotion will be considered below. In continental Europe and North America the use of subscription selling, whereby customers agree to purchase a multiple number of concerts, is widespread. This system of selling dates back to the nineteenth century and is often known by the French and Italian terms of ‘abonnement’ and ‘abonamenti’. Subscription selling possesses a number of cardinal advantages which will be considered in detail. However, for effective execution it does require sustained effort and a 384

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considerable amount of detailed knowledge, which in the fast-moving world of arts marketing, often a point of entry for future arts managers, is hard to come by.

Single concert promotion Traditional methods Traditional methods of concert promotion are grounded on the use of print, media advertising and media editorial.

Print The most common form of print employed for promoting the single concert is the A5 flyer. This will usually contain the following components:

• • • • • • • •

Date and time of start of event Location and address of event Performing artist(s) Programme title (if appropriate) Programme details (i.e. all works to be performed) Ticket price(s) Location of box office/agencies or method to be used for ticket purchase Contact details for further information and of promoter.

Design of print media is an area that often needlessly devours vast quantities of energy, and in which participants are likely to invest disproportionate amounts of time and concern. The employment of professional designers, especially with experience of fast-moving consumer goods, is often worth its weight in gold. The key issue with the use of print is distribution. It is highly ineffective, but quite common, to distribute print randomly, for instance in an urban centre. The key to success is to get the print into the hands of those who are most likely to have an interest in the event and so may be likely to purchase a ticket. Thus a direct mailing to known interested individuals and/or joint mailings with other organizations with similar objectives are likely to be productive, as is the distribution to known interested audiences through whatever channels are available, such as other musicbased organizations. Long-established organizations are likely to have developed comprehensive and productive print distribution lists that have been pruned and grown through trial and error, and constant review. A supplement to the flyer is the large poster. This is a form of promotion that has been continuously derided as unproductive for at least the last 40 years, but which continues to possess a strange ability to stay very much alive, possibly because the poster remains one of the few concrete manifestations of an inevitably transitory event, and so a memorial to those involved with it. The principles suggested for the flyer also apply to the poster, especially the need to place it in productive locations – that is where it will be seen by the target audience. Festivals will generally produce a piece of print that lists all events together. Thus the cost of promotion per concert will often be significantly lower than when only one concert is featured on a single piece of print. The same will be true when several concerts are featured, which might take place over an extended period of time, such as with a single concert season. 385

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Media advertising Although it may often be relatively expensive, media advertising, for instance in local newspapers, magazines, on local radio and on local television stations, can be very powerful, especially if it is done regularly and continuously, when audiences then start to look out for such information: in such circumstances they are half-way to the box-office. As with print media, media advertising should contain as a minimum the following elements:

• • • • • • • •

Date and time of start of event Location and address of event Performing artist(s) Programme title (if appropriate) Programme details (i.e. all works to be performed) Ticket price(s) Location of box office/agencies or method to be used for ticket purchase Contact details for further information.

Although it is tempting to buy large amounts of space or time, often the briefest mention or smallest size will still produce positive results, especially if published regularly. Once again the use of logos, specific designs, etc., can consume excessive amounts of energy – it is often best to take the advice of those closest to the chosen media, while always remembering that they may have a vested interest in the expansion of your campaign.

Media editorial The objective of media editorial is to get the event that is being promoted described and discussed positively in those media that are known to be of interest to the target audience. There are two basic ways of achieving this. The first is the preparation and distribution of a press release, often with a strong ‘angle’ which is intended to be of interest to the target media. Press releases, especially if circulated electronically, can be extremely cost-efficient. Brevity often produces the best results and, as in other areas, a picture is frequently worth a thousand words. The second avenue of approach is to contact a known journalist or correspondent, to seek an interview. If successful this approach has the benefit of allowing particular attributes to be emphasized more strongly than perhaps may be feasible with a press release. The power of television and of more recently established social media and Internet channels should not be underestimated, simply because of their vast reach. For instance a local TV news programme that reaches say 500,000 people regularly, will be very effective in generating audiences through either editorial coverage or paid advertising. Careful costing and ticket pricing may however be required to ensure that a surplus is generated, as television can be an expensive medium, especially for the subsidized arts.

Subscription selling Subscription selling involves the customer agreeing to buy tickets for a defined number of concerts, often at a discount, and generally over a single concert season. The greater the number of concerts, the higher the discount.

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The godfather of subscription selling in the post-war era was Danny Newman (1919–2007), whose daytime job was publicity director of the Chicago Lyric Opera. Newman’s extraordinary success at selling subscriptions for the Lyric Opera led to him being engaged on a consultancy basis by other companies, with the aim of their emulating Chicago’s success. So successful were the methods advocated by him that by the end of the twentieth century virtually all major opera companies and symphony orchestras in North America used his strategies for building and retaining audiences, as did many drama, dance and other performing arts companies. Newman encoded his ideas and methods in the book Subscribe Now! Building Arts Audiences through Dynamic Subscription Promotion, first published in 1977 and still available. This work remains the bible of subscription selling.

Subscription: the 4 Ps In order to structure discussion of subscription selling coherently, the familiar framework of the 4 Ps – Product, Price, Promotion and Place – will be used.

Product The first step with subscription is to bundle concerts into packages. At its simplest this may involve putting all concerts into a single package. However, only the most loyal customers are likely to wish to attend all concerts by an orchestra, say on a weekly basis over a single season. So it is highly advisable to devise further packages of reducing size. These may be grouped in any number of ways: for instance, by date, by artistic theme or by artist. The key issue is to devise the number of packages that will both engage the maximum number of existing audience members and also be sufficiently attractive to encourage non-subscribers, generally single ticket purchasers, to try their hand at greater commitment. Large performing arts audiences, such as opera companies (for instance the Vienna State Opera), often have a bewildering number of subscription packages. As a minimum it is advisable to have three tiers of packages of decreasing size, as these can easily be graded by price discount. Classical subscription theory suggests that it is highly inadvisable to allow the intending purchaser to select the concerts they wish to attend, as then all the popular concerts will be selected, leaving the less popular but possibly equally worthwhile ones ‘on the shelf’. One of the aims of subscription selling is to ‘smooth’ attendance throughout the season.

Price One of the keys to successful subscription selling, as with so much else in arts marketing, is pricing. Traditionally the largest discount offered through subscription is a 30 per cent reduction over the cost of purchasing single tickets. This reduction would normally be offered for the complete season package. Then it is up to the promoter to grade smaller price reductions in relation to the size of the packages offered. Usual gradations would be for instance a 20 per cent reduction for a half-season reduction and 10 per cent for a third- or a quarter-season reduction. But there are no hard and fast rules here: it is up to the individual manager to price according to his or her best assessment of local conditions. One useful point to appreciate is that the key to successful subscription pricing is the pricing level set for single tickets as all reductions are then related to this. So pricing single tickets higher rather than lower is likely to produce the best results overall. 387

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Promotion The principal vehicle for articulating the sale of subscriptions is the subscription brochure, which may be produced and circulated as a hard copy or electronically, or in both forms. The brochure has two fundamental purposes, first to list the various packages on offer and their contents in detail, and second to describe, often in emphatic terms, the benefits of subscription, which are likely to be financial, artistic, social and emotional. It is in general important for a symphony orchestra to list all works to be performed in each concert throughout a season, and for an opera company to provide as full details of casting for each run of a specific opera as possible. These are hidden ‘sellers’ and their absence is likely to alienate potential ticket buyers significantly. If space is at a premium, the whole season and all relevant details can be clearly laid out as one, with different packages then described alongside through simple design features such as colour coding. Copy-writing for subscription brochures is an art in itself. There are a number of points to be emphasized. For the product itself, the artistic value of the works to be performed and the high quality of the artists involved should be clearly and credibly described. The benefits of subscribing should be listed. These might include:

• • • • •

Priority booking through subscribing Less cost per ticket purchased Guaranteed seat for the performance of the customer’s choice, including those likely to sell out The same seat for each performance The chance to join and/or to support the artistic family represented by the organization and its audiences.

These are just a few of the numerous benefits that can be described, and again local conditions and preferences will be determining factors as to choice and order of priority.

Place For the sale of subscriptions place will generally refer to the sales location or box office. This may be either an actual physical location or a virtual, electronic, method of ticket purchase. The key to both will be the booking form, and it is vital that this is as clear and as simple to understand as possible. With so many variables on offer (such as theme, price, date) it is very easy for booking forms to start to look like an order of battle and so to have a highly negative impact upon potential buyers. Older potential purchasers may well welcome the personal advice of well-trained box-office executives.

General With so many expert arts organizations offering subscription throughout the world, it may be foolhardy to try to reinvent the wheel. Time spent studying the subscription brochures for those companies with which one feels most comfortable, will be time well spent. And actually deconstructing them to see how they are constructed and written will undoubtedly be the quickest way to creating an effective subscription brochure of one’s own: ‘imitation is the sincerest form of flattery’.

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Case studies In this section the communications strategies of four symphony orchestras will be briefly described. Given that the USA is the home of the most developed strategies, the work of two organizations will be examined: the New York Philharmonic Orchestra and the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. These will be followed by studies of the work of the Hong Kong Philharmonic Orchestra and the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra.

New York Philharmonic Orchestra The New York Philharmonic Orchestra is one of the USA’s top five symphony orchestras. By virtue of operating in New York City, with major-league competitors such as the Metropolitan Opera, it has been forced to develop highly effective communications strategies to build and to retain audiences. At the same time it presents what might be termed a classic articulation of Newman’s ideas for subscription. The Orchestra’s programming breaks down basically into four different categories. The first three focus upon events given in the Orchestra’s home, the Avery Fisher Concert Hall. These categories of activity are: first, single programme concerts, which are generally repeated three times in succession; second, mini-series, often focusing upon the work of a single composer and/ or conductor (e.g. ‘Masur conducts Brahms’); and third, large-scale events, such as ‘The Bach Variations’, which cover a more extended time period and group of concerts, in this case the month of March 2013. The final category of programming covers events that take place beyond the concert hall, such as specially designed concerts beamed into cinemas, for instance ‘Stephen Sondheim’s Company’; programmes held with other arts organizations in New York City, for instance the Metropolitan Museum of Art; and large-scale free events for the general public, such as the Orchestra’s annual summer concerts in Central Park. The Orchestra’s wide-ranging programme of concerts and events is offered to the public in eight varied subscription packages, each suitable for different categories of concert-goers. In addition to series relating to the full season, other packages are offered, such as the 4-Concerts Series, Matinees, Rush Hour, Families and MyPhil Series. In addition to ordinary single ticket sales, targeted sales are promoted through the Student Rush and Groups Sales offerings. The additional activities of the Orchestra aimed at enhancing the concert-going experience are straightforward: they include open rehearsals, for which admission is cheaper than for a normal concert and which offer the opportunity for observers to see the ways in which a conductor and orchestra together mould a performance; pre-concert talks, in which experts discuss music to be performed immediately before a concert takes place and for which a nominal charge is made; and an extensive education programme, through which members of the Orchestra become involved with the life of a school. The size of this programme can be gauged from the titles of some of the various educational sub-programmes: School Day Concerts, Musical Encounters, School Partnership Program; Philharmonic Mentors; Conservatory Collaborations, and Workshops for Visiting Ensembles. The strategic importance of programmes such as these cannot be underestimated, in terms of binding the Orchestra closely to the community it serves. The New York Philharmonic has invested strongly in the use of traditional forms of broadcasting, such as radio and television, and in the Internet and specifically social media channels. It maintains an active presence on YouTube, Twitter and Facebook, updating messages and information frequently. It produces its own podcasts, entitled ‘On the Music’, which preview concerts with musical experts and conversations with conductors, soloists, members of the orchestra and 389

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guest experts. The Orchestra’s apps for mobile appliances are free and allow audiences and interested members of the public to listen to the Orchestra’s weekly radio broadcasts and the podcasts already described, and to access easily information about forthcoming events. Finally the Orchestra has a website dedicated to children, called ‘Kidzone’, which facilitates online learning, with games, activities and other information which encourage children to enter the world of the Orchestra. Overall the New York Philharmonic Orchestra has taken up all the communication channels available to it at present, and exploits them as proactively as possible to serve its present and future audiences.

Chicago Symphony Orchestra Like the New York Philharmonic, the Chicago Symphony Orchestra is one of the USA’s top five orchestras, and has an extremely distinguished history. And good as the work of the New York Philharmonic Orchestra is, the Chicago Symphony Orchestra has gone one step further to indicate what annual programmes promoted by urban-based orchestras may look like in the future. The key to this development is the shared usage of the Orchestra’s concert hall, Symphony Center, and the promotion of a wide range of events there, sold within the Orchestra’s subscription brochure. In addition to the regular scheduling of orchestral concerts by the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, programmed in a very similar manner to those of the New York Philharmonic, the monthly programme in Chicago includes many different genres of concert, such as piano recitals, jazz, world music, children’s concerts, concerts in which the soundtracks to famous films are played live, concerts of solidly contemporary music, as well as concerts by guest orchestras. The broadening of the programme on offer means that the rigid subscription formula, as described above, is no longer wholly appropriate. Consequently the emphasis in Chicago is on encouraging the subscribing customer to create their own subscription package from the variety of events that are on offer. The symphony orchestra loyalist can stick with his or her personal preference just for symphony concerts, while the jazz aficionado could also make his or her own subscription series, or a buyer could construct a personal series to mix both these and other different elements, entirely according to personal taste. The commitment to subscribe still brings discounts based on quantity of commitment: 20 per cent off for ten or more concerts, 10 per cent off for seven, eight or nine, and 5 per cent off for five or six concerts. These are in reality good discounts, because the range of concerts on offer is much wider, both in terms of actual quantity of events, and in terms of artistic type. For the promoting orchestra the benefits of this scheme are manifest: attenders at some of the more popular programmes may gradually make the transition to attending concerts by the host orchestra itself, while the lower-cost events, such as piano recitals, may generate useful surpluses to be set against the inevitably high cost of the Orchestra’s own concerts. In effect the management of the Orchestra is utilizing the basic plant of the organization, the concert hall, to generate extra activity and revenue. Previously observed artistic boundaries are being dissolved to everyone’s benefit. The programming of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra is also slightly more adventurous than that of other orchestras. For instance in the 2012–13 season a continuing theme was rivers, with six concerts spread out throughout the season reflecting different aspects of river culture expressed through many different forms of music. This approach to integrated programming also exploits the different genres of music on offer, such as jazz and world music, and so acts as a binding agent across the whole annual programme. In terms of communication channels, the

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Orchestra is also slightly ahead of its rivals. In addition to the pattern of Internet usage adopted by the New York Philharmonic, the Chicago Symphony Orchestra uses the ‘Flickr’ channel to present photographs of events, and the ‘SoundCloud’ channel is employed to host the Orchestra’s radio broadcasts. As with several European orchestras, the broadcasting of concerts live on the Web is a likely future development. With its wide-ranging and adventurous programming, flexible booking procedures and extensive use of the Internet and social media, the Chicago Symphony Orchestra is moving with the times.

Hong Kong Philharmonic Orchestra The Hong Kong Philharmonic Orchestra is a relatively young organization and is active within a highly competitive and fast-moving environment. It has adapted the classic subscription ideas of Newman to this environment to create an image of an organization that is very much in touch with its audiences and delivers a high impact. In terms of the structure of its season, for subscription purposes the Orchestra has broken this down into several series of relatively compact size, of between three and five concerts each. Individual packages have a strong sub-title, for instance ‘Masterworks’, ‘Maestro’ and ‘Sunday Family’, each of which communicates instantly the focus of the package, be it composition, performer or audience segment. This is clearly a sensible policy for an orchestra operating in an environment in which attendance at concerts of Western music may be a growing phenomenon. Discounts for subscribing are generous: 30 per cent on adult tickets and up to 55 per cent for concessionary ticket-holders. In addition tickets can be easily upgraded or swapped for other dates as required. But the benefits of subscription do not stop there, as they might with other organizations. Subscribers to a complete series are offered what is termed ‘Club Bravo’ membership, which entitles them to a 15 per cent discount on any single ticket, ‘reward’ points and invitations to open rehearsals. In addition another Club scheme, ‘Club Maestro’, offers business leaders opportunities to socialize and to network, while also themselves acting as ambassadors for the Orchestra in the wider community. At the other end of the audience scale the ‘Young Audience Scheme’ offers benefits such as ticket and CD discounts, attendance at music appreciation workshops, free concerts and free access to rehearsals. This scheme operates in addition to the Orchestra’s mainstream education programme, ‘Keys to Music’, which follows a more familiar model, with information, games and teaching resources all associated with the Orchestra’s current activities. For the sale of single tickets the Orchestra offers the usual purchase channels, via telephone and online, and in addition tickets may be purchased through the Urbtix system of 43 outlets spread across Hong Kong. Tickets bought through Urbtix may also be exchanged for other performances at the same venue. In the promotion of the Orchestra’s season, the Hong Kong Philharmonic produces a bilingual brochure that makes brilliant use of photographic images of key musicians appearing with the Orchestra in the season in question, and which allows for very easy navigation across the season generally and the subscription package of one’s choice. Strong images of both senior musicians and of popular young stars, with whom the Orchestra collaborates regularly, gives this primary communications tool considerable impact. In terms of social media the Orchestra makes use of the full range of resources currently available, including Facebook, Twitter and Sina Weibo, and uploads videos of the Orchestra to YouTube regularly, for instance showing Pixar clips for a forthcoming ‘Pixar in Concert’ film and orchestra concert. The Orchestra’s own website is used to provide audio clips to introduce items to be played at forthcoming concerts. In general the Hong Kong Philharmonic Orchestra has effectively married the traditional with the new to maximize attendance opportunities for existing and future audiences. 391

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Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra The Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra, like many major European orchestras and opera companies, operates a traditional subscription system, which goes back into the nineteenth century and from which Newman drew his key ideas. Quite simply, this system breaks the performing season down into a series of packages, of different parameters and as already described. It stems from a historical period when attendance at urban artistic events such as concerts, opera and drama were regularly entered into the domestic diary. Where the Berlin Philharmonic has diverged markedly from its peers has been in the development of what it calls its Digital Concert Hall. Put at its simplest, this broadcasts live concerts by the Orchestra from its home, the Philharmonie in Berlin, which are accessible through the Internet using a computer or similar device, or an Internet enabled television, on payment of a fee. Different price bands for access are available, from a year’s subscription enabling the subscriber to access the entire season’s concerts, through a subscription for a month which permits access to four live concerts, to the equivalent of a single concert ticket, which provides access for 48 hours. In addition subscribers to the Digital Concert Hall at any level have access to an everincreasing library of past concerts. In addition to the Digital Concert Hall, which is aimed at domestic consumers, the Berlin Philharmonic has more recently moved into the relay of its performances to cinema audiences across the world. This development builds strongly on the success of the Metropolitan Opera, New York, in broadcasting live performances in high definition (HD) to theatre audiences globally. The Met’s thinking in developing its HD simulcasts is grounded on the idea of emphasizing the uniqueness of the live performance or event, as opposed to the theatrical reproduction of a filmed performance, which has been more common in the recent past. In this the Met has been very heavily influenced by live sports broadcasting techniques employed in the USA, which emphasize in numerous ways the unique, transitory and unrepeatable nature of the event being broadcast. The success of the Met’s HD relays has been considerable, and this initiative has opened up a major new income stream for the company, despite requiring heavy initial costs. If, as is likely, audiences continue to build internationally, and demand reaches a point whereby customers are eager to attend multiple performances in a future single season, then the logic of the traditional subscription system and of the Digital Concert Hall would suggest the introduction of subscriptions for cinema-based screenings, just as simple subscription techniques have already been employed with the Berlin Philharmonic’s Digital Concert Hall. In this eventuality, it is quite feasible to see international audiences for high calibre arts events growing substantially without the need for additional subsidy – the alchemist’s gold of arts management.

Reference Newman, D. (1977, and later editions) Subscribe Now! Building Arts Audiences through Dynamic Subscription Promotion, New York: Theatre Communications Group.

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36 CREATING THE OPERA HABIT Marketing and the experience of opera Peter Fraser and Iain Fraser

Opera and its context The authors write from a perspective formed by regular opera-going over many years, mainly in the UK and with particular reference to Scotland. We draw not just upon a range of academic literatures, limited in the case of opera marketing, but many less academic sources supplemented by formal and informal interview, conversation and reflection. In order to avoid repetition as well as fit within the constraints of a chapter, many important themes have been omitted. These include opera history, orchestral marketing, fundraising, environmental issues, blogging and membership of friends’ societies.

Key issues and questions in opera marketing Opportunities for research in arts marketing included ‘live arts consumption experience, arts consumption communities; arts branding; new methods in arts research; the theoretical links between consumers, fans and audiences; arts and technology … a comparative study of notions of value and cultural capital across arts areas’ (O’Reilly 2011). In this chapter we will engage briefly with one or two of these as well as addressing more mainstream arts marketing issues. Most literature on the art, more general as well as academic, focuses almost entirely on the product and its development. In the most recent opera history by Parker and Abbate (2012) there are some references to audiences and audience development and to the creation and development of the art. However, the focus on production is otherwise devoid of many references to the business, management and marketing side of the organisation. Some of the wider issues beyond consumption, ‘the many chains of connection linking opera houses and impresarios, monarchs and money makers, art, artists and audiences’, are addressed by Snowman (2009). How do we make sense of such a complex performing art as opera? We might start by addressing its key issues or challenges, and the first is its complexity.

The complex nature of opera While some researchers, policy makers and authors address opera as a specialist genre on its own, others include opera only as one art among other high arts (Oakes 2003; Scollen 2007).

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Of all the elite arts, the performing arts are among the most expensive, and among these, opera is by far the most challenging industry to sustain. Ballet apart, opera is also in many respects the least realistic, being one in which the characters sing for most of the time. It is also hugely complicated to mount a performance. Not for nothing Wagner famously described his staggeringly ambitious operas, ‘Gesamtkunstwerke’, a total art form integrating music, poetry and drama (Parker and Abbate 2012: 5). While the orchestra provides the musical foundation for an opera, the complex opera ‘package’ is vastly more than orchestral work. Its creators draw upon the many and various arts of the theatre from singing, dancing, acting and instrumental music through to design of sets, costumes and lighting. In addition to be met are the running costs of any theatrical auditorium or other venue – the supply of tickets, ancillary goods and the support staff from ushers to bar staff are all needed to operate at a high level of performance in order to ensure that the all-round customer experience is the very best possible. Even the choice of ice cream has significance (Kaiser 2008: 123). In short, the product is by any standards a prestige or ‘luxury good’ and perceived as such by most commentators (Snowman 2009; Parker and Abbate 2012).

Sustaining the art form Opera has rarely been able to operate on box office proceeds alone. Some form of subsidy has been expected. In the earliest days of the art, 400 years ago, this came from royalty and nobility. Requiring subsidy by the wealthy and with audiences often featuring their presence, opera has tended to maintain high social status (Snowman 2009). In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, due to a combination of popularity and small-scale forces, some opera offered in the UK and USA was commercially successful and presented without subsidy. The marketing mix created for purchasers of the best seats often included relatively high prices combined with formal evening dress. Higher priced tickets may be the first to sell (Fraser 2004). The perception of elitism brought about for at least some parts of the house still lingers in relation to some corporate hospitality. Debate about dress codes remains alive to this day (BBC 2012). The economics of the performing arts and opera in particular are notoriously difficult because the core activity, being labour-intensive, and requiring high levels of skill at that, is not susceptible to economies of scale (Baumol and Bowen 1966; Gambling and Andrews 1984). Methods of funding to meet the challenge of this gap have tended to diverge in Europe as against the United States. State support tended to develop in Europe while commercial sponsorship was the prime source of support funds in the USA. In recent years in Europe, sponsorship and various forms of gift aid seem more significant as state subvention has come under pressure. Over recent decades, successive UK governments have increasingly urged opera companies to develop nongovernmental sources of funding. As a result, management in the opera house is preoccupied with finding the programming, pricing and fundraising solution that balances access and seat occupancy against quality of experience and the risk of financial loss (Gilbert 2009). Ticket price always presents a barrier, real or perceived. In the sports and leisure industries many products and services offer premium and prestige price ranges. Emphasis in opera promotion is often placed on tickets in the cheaper parts of the theatre. At Covent Garden, London, according to its website, ‘40% of the tickets are under £40’ (Royal Opera House 2013). The stated intention is to offer a significant proportion of seats at prices no greater than those for West End shows. But ticket price is only part of the cost of attendance. Opera worldwide is highly concentrated in a few locations (Agid and Tarondeau 2010) and touring activity by major companies such as the New York Metropolitan Opera or the Royal Opera has ended. Other financial deterrents therefore include not just the time but the cost of travelling and potentially of social activities set around the event. 394

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From the perspective of the producing organization, box office income makes up only a fraction of the total operating costs. The patterns are different in Europe from the USA where in general there are more performances at smaller venues (Agid and Tarondeau 2010). According to one UK study of three companies, box office income brings in only 25–40 per cent of costs ( Jones 2000); other evidence suggests that it can be as low as 15 per cent, or as ‘much’ as 50 per cent (Gilbert 2009). What matters is having willing funders, and achieving performance against budget.

The opera consumer The majority of the research literature in opera and opera marketing tends to focus on those insiders who participate and attend performances. Such customers are easy to identify and reach, unlike those outsiders who do not or tend not to. Thus is created one boundary. Within the opera community and the opera venue, conventional divisions appear to fall first into performers; then into managers, representatives of funding agencies, sponsors, significant donors; and, finally, paying customers or audience members. Little attention is paid to the holistic nature of such a community or to crossover from, say, other performing arts. But there seems little or no shortage of potential performers, with music and singing graduates being trained in considerable numbers. Moser and others have also referred to ‘a remarkable global increase in operatic activity’ over the last 50 years and point to the increase in the number of companies and new opera houses (Moser 1983; Ross 2008; Agid and Tarondeau 2010; Parker and Abbate 2012). Even so, an appetite for opera is the province of a very small proportion of the population. As a generalization we are talking about 2–3 per cent of the population across most Western nations (Agid and Tarondeau 2010). Broadly speaking, adult attendance at arts events is influenced by adolescent exposure to the arts, educational attainment, gender, age, race and current income (Robinson 1993; Bergonzi and Smith 1996). In many such arts, a significant proportion of customers and consumers are also practitioners, teachers and aspiring or retired performers. From a national survey of arts participation in the UK, Hand (2011) found that the arts audience is less segmented than might be expected and that every art form competes with every other art form for audiences. The socio-demographics are well established. The average age of the opera-goer varies across time and country from house to house but is reckoned to be around 60 or more (Agid and Tarondeau 2010). When in 2006 Peter Gelb became General Manager of the Met with a mandate for renewal he found that the average age was 65 and was increasing ‘at the rate of a year every year’ (Higgins 2011). Scottish Opera, one of many companies tackling this challenge through a range of price promotions for those under 26, has been successfully increasing over some years the proportion of younger audience members. By 2013 this had risen to just under 10 per cent (BBC 2012; Reedijk 2013). In the UK, Currie and Hobart researched the audience at arena performances of Carmen in Birmingham, reporting findings that were broadly consistent with other surveys, that is the majority of opera-goers are of the more mature age groups (66 per cent were 45 and over); 65 per cent of opera-goers were female; 61 per cent were from socio-economic classes A and B. Cost was considered an important factor by 80 per cent (Currie and Hobart 1994). Researching before the days of the Internet and company websites, they recommended a review of media channels to attract a wider audience. How do people undergo ‘affiliation and initiation’ into ‘high culture’ as opera-goers? Benzecry (2009) carried out an 18-month ethnographic study of ‘the opera fan at work’ at the Teatro Colón in Buenos Aires. Participant observation was underpinned by support from 44 ‘in-depth’ 395

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interviews with audience members, music critics and producers. This Argentinian ‘arts consumption community’ consisted mainly of those who colonize the standing area in the gallery of what is one of the world’s largest traditionally built opera houses. The gallery section provided a more or less enclosed or self-contained community, a ‘particular segment’ amounting to about 20 per cent of an audience in that house. The ‘fans of all ages’ who inhabit this cheapest part of the house, Benzecry describes as coming from diverse sections of the middle class, ranging from several petty accountants or lawyers to a debt collector. Some, from voice coach to journalist to aspiring singer, have tried to professionalize their passion. They were, Benzecry (2009) records, not representative of his expected homogenous upper middle class brought to opera attendance by their family upbringing. They were much more symptomatic of a wide net of people brought to opera by ‘random act of initiation, sometimes during the adult years, made possible by someone in the family (usually not the parents), a friend, or a public educational institution’. They attended without prior disposition and in some cases in the face of discouragement. Their initial experiences ‘have not prepared them to appreciate, enjoy, or even be attracted to opera’. Their learning about opera is a process that is formed by reference to the past for guidance; demands intensive attendance; occurs also outside the theatre by attending lectures, reading, listening to recordings and the like; and forms within an informal apprenticeship system in which novices learn from the experienced. Benzecry confirms that many attend opera therefore for reasons other than economic or social status. Status relates instead to operatic knowledge or experience. Identity is created through the consumption of such musical experiences (Larsen and Lawson 2010). Nowadays, excitement, enthusiasm and mutual learning can be co-created and support groups formed through blogs, use of Twitter and other new media. Benzecry also underlined the opportunities for auxiliary events that will support formal engagement with these informal groupings. Lecture series, pre-performance talks, Masterclasses and opera education are all likely to enhance loyalty and audience development. Rössel (2011) researched opera-goers in Germany, exploring among other things the stereotype of the silent intellectual listener. This study obviously has the advantages and disadvantages that come from exploring a social and cultural context distinguished by a ‘continued and relatively high degree of public support’ for organizations of highbrow culture, such as concert and opera houses. Rössel, in highlighting some of the disadvantages, pointed to the fact that non opera-goers were not included and adds further that they might not anyway be able to articulate their presumed negative reaction to a demanding and sophisticated art form completely outside their experience. Boerner studied spectators’ judgements on the performance quality in opera. The results of a field study conducted in Dessau Opera House, Germany, explored the single components (e.g. orchestra) and the congruency components (e.g. congruency between the music and the staging dimension) that contribute to opera-goers’ overall quality judgements. Spectators’ individual judgements were found to be highly homogeneous, with only minor differences between experts and non-experts (Boerner 2004). Another later study concluded that to maximize audience satisfaction, management efforts should concentrate on the quality of the core offering, the performance itself ( Jobst and Boerner 2011). The complementary offerings that absorb so much effort were considered peripheral.

New product development A longer term concern has been the view that alongside the wider availability of opera, the repertoire has narrowed since the nineteenth century, and the range of operas on offer in the 396

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world’s great opera houses is noticeably constrained. ‘Opera has become a museum, constantly repeating the same small repertoire of 18th-, 19th- and early 20th-century masterpieces’ (Ross 2008; Clark 2011). Data for the last five years from Operabase confirm that nine composers (Verdi, Mozart and Puccini being the top three by a long way) account for well over half of all operas performed worldwide (Parker and Abbate 2012: 523). To an extent the repertoire has been extended by drawing upon the largely forgotten old work of composers such as Monteverdi. While new work has been created, in the same database, admittedly incomplete, the problem clearly displayed is the failure of most work to obtain revivals or breakthrough (Heilbrun and Hendon 1984; Agid and Tarondeau 2010). New work is particularly expensive and risky. Philip Glass (1999) recalled how he ‘got into opera by accident’ and stressed the difficulty of persuading others to back his ideas. Judith Weir, a composer of a wide range of well-received work including several operas, reflects on survival: ‘I think there’s an assumption that composers are all Andrew Lloyd Webber, when royalties practically don’t exist in this field for most of us’ (Palmer 2004: 185). And it was a slow process, explained Weir: ‘That’s two years when you turn down everything else, and are probably not socializing very much, working the whole day and into the evenings … At the end, the feeling has always been of exhaustion’ (Palmer 2004: 187). Then there are the box office issues. According to Padmore (2002), ‘the corporate suits who would lap up more popular fare’ won’t go anywhere near contemporary opera. So there is a second loss there. To attract those who are keen to explore that sort of music, you have to set low prices. Finally the chances of success are limited as with all new product development. New opera might be revived at the commissioning house, and then rarely seen elsewhere. Co-productions may offer the chance of more performances but creators of a new opera may find that the opera has a very short run. It is hardly surprising if it is difficult for managements to come up with willing composers and librettists.

Marketing and promotion Kaiser (2008) draws the distinction between ‘informational marketing’ for works that are already well known and ‘missionary marketing’ for new work: Missionary marketing is far more complicated. In a missionary marketing effort one must convince people that they will enjoy [a work] even if they have never heard of it. It requires communicating much more information through words and images. It is much harder, more expensive and less productive. (Kaiser 2008: 79) Traditional forms of promotion such as brochures, leaflets/flyers and mailshots remain in use for company, opera and venue. Peter Bellingham of Welsh National Opera (WNO) reflected on the changes by which databases now make targeting, tracking and segmentation possible so that every year ‘we boost our audiences’ (Hill et al. 2003). Given the age structure of those in the dominant customer base, many audience members tend not to be net-savvy and some have no access to the Web. Nevertheless new media is used more intensively and seen as a key way to bring in younger people. Company websites and the use of YouTube can bring new productions to life by offering participant interviews, shots of rehearsals and musical extracts. The addition of online booking has offered major benefits all round, but is unsuited to everyone in the user demographic.

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Telephone interviews by the authors indicate no evidence that arts organizations are treating new media much differently. Unsurprisingly, use of digital communications has been steadily increasing, particularly over the last two years. Opera companies are using a wide range of new media including Pinterest, Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, Flickr and Storify. One company reported that their website traffic had risen 200 per cent over three years. Facebook data show engagement with an audience where the profile is under 45, younger than their normal audience. Touring is particularly expensive and, also, without extended or repeat seasons in any one location, difficult to promote. At English Touring Opera, Head of Marketing John Holmes reported steady change. Older people are becoming more IT literate: in collecting contact details, ETO finds that over 95 per cent of respondents now enter an e-mail address. So ETO find e-mail effective and the number of people coming to their website through mobile and tablet has tripled in a year. They use Vimeo rather than YouTube as in the early days it had better definition; have a WordPress blog; and use Flickr and SoundCloud. One of the challenges to any marketer is data capture pertaining to promiscuous or heavy users. An opera-goer may attend different venues occasionally, perhaps even regularly, yet to marketers using the database at an individual theatre, the user may seem an infrequent user. The survey of audience members at an arena Carmen survey indicated that 95 per cent of opera-goers attend relatively regularly, that is, one to three times per year. Research in Germany, where high cultural engagement is more common, found that 25 per cent of such urban adults visit opera at least once per year (Rössel 2011).

‘Old’ technology: radio, recording, television and video ‘If we are to develop audiences for new works of dance and opera, it is essential to increase the number of people exposed to these art forms’ wrote Kaiser, going on to add that ‘there is far too little ballet and opera on television around the world, the costs of filming and broadcasting are simply too high and the audience is far smaller than for other entertainment organisations’ (Kaiser 2008: 136). During 1998–2000, as part of his turnaround programme at the Royal Opera House, Kaiser set in train greater collaboration with the BBC. The situation described has now somewhat improved. Wider distribution of opera is undoubtedly a key issue. It offers a clear potential for widening interest, developing familiarity and listening skills as well as creating additional avenues for income. Telephones were used to make some of the earliest operatic relays and Edison indicated in his 1888 patent caveat that the purpose of movies would include the delivery of opera (Library of Congress 2012). Perhaps surprisingly, silent movies (accompanied) offered known titles, stories, stars and music (Fryer 2005). Caruso was the first artiste to sell a million copies of a record with his 1904 ‘Vesti la giubba’ from Pagliacci. Later on, in the UK, opera highlights and an act from a Wagner opera were among the earliest of live BBC radio broadcasts (Walker 2011). The experience of such alternative products, whether audio alone, a DVD or in the latest HD simulcast, will be very different. Some argue that any consumption is important for fans in maintaining habits and developing insight: ‘those regularly attending live performances … in general watch videos with equal regularity’ (Senici 2010).

‘New’ technology: web streaming and live relays In the early years of the twenty-first century, the chief executive of the Royal Opera House (ROH) in London, Tony Hall, announced that the mission of the business was now not to be 398

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considered as relating to the opera and ballet companies, but that the ROH’s core business was now to be considered ‘publishing’. In 2007 Hall and his ROH board members drew £5.7m from their reserves to fund the purchase of Opus Arte, the independent high quality DVD maker. The potential synergies were clear. Royal Opera had since the 1990s made live transmissions to the Covent Garden piazza, and under the sponsorship of BP offered ‘Big Tent’ free access to such performances annually in other open spaces across the UK. The New York Metropolitan Opera is on a number of measures the world’s greatest opera company. It was one of the first to broadcast by radio, on television and its recordings are well known. So it was no surprise when its management pushed on with high definition broadcasts on a large scale. Peter Gelb, the Met’s general manager, and formerly of Sony Classics, launched the transmissions in 2006 as a break-even proposition that was intended to work as a marketing device, luring audiences into the opera house itself. But now it contributes substantially to his budget. Timed to suit the international audience, transmissions are of New York matinée performances. First was Mozart’s Magic Flute, staged by Lion King director Julie Taymore. By season 2010/11, the performances were screened in 46 countries and 1,500 theatres. They are expected in 2012/13 to have given the Met (a nonprofit) a net contribution of $10–12m (Battle 2012). Attendances at the Met itself are up 10 per cent despite an increase in seat prices. Recent press coverage (e.g. Wakin 2010; Apthorp 2011) attests to remarkable growth in the number of cinemas worldwide showing opera, ballet and drama performances relayed live in HD and/or 3D. It is ‘now the number one alternative (non-movie) content in movie theatres worldwide’ (Library of Congress 2012). Such showings in cinema are supplemented by live web streaming of productions. But Christiansen, reviewing trends in opera, warned that these developments ‘could soon wreak havoc on the economy of regional touring companies in particular’ (Christiansen 2012). The danger is that opera managements may suffer from the competitive myopia widespread in the arts (Bennett 2005). What effect does attendance at such cinema events have on attendance at live opera? Does it cannibalize attendance slightly, as Peter Gelb suggested it might? Of course, cinema showings can reach ‘new’ audiences who for a variety of reasons do not have ready access to live opera. Researching in a major North American city, which had a ‘midsize professional opera company’ and a ‘midsize amateur company’, van Eeden explored issues around the Met’s Live in HD attendance at all three venues. He found that on its own terms such programming was successful and built a loyal following. It was not seen as an inferior product to live opera although most attenders were established live opera-goers. Most audience members were not more likely to attend live opera as a result, but neither were they lured away from live opera. Screenings were not bringing new audiences into local opera houses (van Eeden 2011). He thought this was good news both for opera fans who had unmet demands, and for the local opera companies who did not seem to be suffering as a result.

Increasing engagement and participation: music and theatre education Sociologists or philosophers such as Elias and Dewey point to the developed nature of all the specialized and higher arts, reminding us that arts such as singing, dancing and playing instruments, to take just three skills, originated in community processes (Elias and Dunning 1986; Dewey 2009). Nowadays our social experience tends to separate off the activity, contributing to the sense that such performance takes place in a different category and status which is often taken to mean that it is ‘not for me’. Accusations of elitism, ignorance or lack of experience of opera can be tackled only by engaging with young people as part of educational programmes. There is no suggestion that 399

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more such programmes would directly bring more people to the opera house. The aims seem more broadly social and educational. Yet virtually all opera companies, including some of the smallest, operate a variety of educational schemes. These can involve taking music theatre into schools or attracting school pupils to attend opera performances. In addition to schools programmes, Scottish Opera has also offered Baby O and toddler opera, music activity for infants and their carers. Substantial programmes on behalf of orchestras (Winterson 1996), opera companies and other performing arts organizations have been offered now for many years. However, arts and music education in schools is not given priority despite arguments favouring development of creativity (Robinson 1982). It is excluded from plans for the new national curriculum in England. In Scotland, those wishing music tuition are currently expected to pay supplementary fees, although campaigners are arguing that music tuition should be free to all.

Small is good, big is good, medium is tough For those prepared to seek it out, grassroots activity shows plenty of evidence that singers and musicians are still forming small companies, creating small-scale opera where there is the will and the energy to do so. Often such companies produce one or two productions per year. Some emerge from universities where music is taught. But between major companies and the grassroots there seems to be a gap. In 2008 Co-Opera Co. was founded by soprano Kate Flowers and lighting designer Paul Need. Their inspiration, according to their website, came from frustration that the career path of young singers entering the operatic profession today is severely hampered by the absence of the kind of small prestigious companies which were prevalent in the 1970’s and 80’s. It was possible at that time for singers straight from college to work alongside seasoned professionals, in top class productions in major venues, learning invaluable lessons by watching and working with experienced artists – earning whilst learning. (Flowers 2013) Initially the company has been self-funded by the participants and from modest grants and bursaries.

What of the future? Some reflections Strategy for opera companies has as its object both audience building and the regeneration of work. It tends to be forgotten that this has always been true, even in the late nineteenth century when relatively few operas were able to establish themselves in the mainstream and show themselves to be good box office. Supporting and creating contemporary work, ‘the landscape of the new’ to use Pountney’s phrase, is assumed to widen opera appeal to the young at least (Tilden 2012). Opera takes 11 per cent of investment in the arts by Arts Council England. A high proportion of this goes to the two main London-based companies. Opera is unpopular with both those who see it as elitist and those envious of this group’s lion’s share of public arts funding. There are many stories of the unwillingness of many UK politicians to be associated with opera and of intensely negative media coverage (Brooks 2013). Kaiser warned that: ‘the need to defend against attacks from the press and the public sapped much-needed energy and time from arts organizations’ (Kaiser 2008). What is needed is co-operation, clear strong advocacy and support.

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Plenty of scope remains for collaborative work and for new technology to achieve a range of productivity improvements, from scenery and staging to box office and marketing. The globalization of opera ‘has a long history behind it’ (Agid and Tarondeau 2010). Technology, and in particular the streaming of opera live from the largest companies in the world to cinema audiences, is accelerating this process. Gelb is reported as saying he thinks there will be a ‘slight cannibalization’ of box office by cinema screenings, although this is not a worry while the cinema audience is rising (Higgins 2011). With improvements to health care and extending lifespans there will be benefit also in improving access and experience in relation to the older audience members. It seems likely that, for several reasons, the cinema experience may appeal even more to this age grouping. Perhaps those whose first experience of opera relays outside the home or theatre is in an arthouse cinema may be much less tolerant of the conditions of live theatre performance. Managements may notice increased pressure to improve the live experience: this would not be just a question of price and easier access (including car parking) but comfort, visibility and audibility. However, it is the experience and performance quality that is the core issue for managements to nurture ( Jobst and Boerner 2011). Many opera-goers attend other art forms, with cinema appearing to offer the strongest overlap (Hand 2009). Better understanding of what affects the decision to attend an arts event other than an opera would help marketers convince more people to attend opera performances ( Jones 2000; Clopton et al. 2006). The unplanned emergence and flowering of regional opera companies in the UK took place in a climate of what, from today’s perspective, was relative optimism (Moser 1983). There was a post-war belief in reconstruction and development of every kind and part of this was a willingness of successive governments to contribute funding to the arts. But now an age of austerity is forecast to last for a generation or more. From previous recessions we know the arts are needed more than ever. Yet opera audiences are price sensitive and in such times they tend to prefer the safe and the well known (Gilbert 2009). Courageous longterm programmes incorporating a significant amount of new work seem a challenging agenda in the circumstances.

References Agid, P. and J.-C. Tarondeau (2010). The Management of Opera: An International Comparative Study. London: Palgrave Macmillan. Apthorp, S. (2011). Breath of fresh arias: a grain silo or a turbine hall … Rotterdam’s Opera Days festival has brought music to some unlikely places. The Financial Times, 27 May: 7. Battle, L. (2012). Streaming ahead. The Financial Times, 21 April: 8. Baumol, W. J. and W. G. Bowen (1966). Performing Arts: The Economic Dilemma. New York: Twentieth Century Fund. BBC (2012). ENO announce ‘dress down for opera’ initiative. Retrieved 20 January 2013, from: http:// www.bbc.co.uk/news/entertainment-arts-19812219. Bennett, R. (2005). Factors encouraging competitive myopia in the performing arts sector: an empirical investigation. Service Industries Journal 25(3): 391–401. Benzecry, C. (2009). Becoming a fan: on the seductions of opera. Qualitative Sociology 32(2): 131–151. Bergonzi, L. and J. Smith (1996). Effects of Arts Education on Participation in the Arts. Washington, DC: National Endowment for the Arts. Boerner, S. (2004). Artistic quality in an opera company: toward the development of a concept. Nonprofit Management and Leadership 14(4): 425–436. Brooks, R. (2013). Arts chief brands top ministers culture-shy. Sunday Times, 20 January. Christiansen, R. (2012). Dr Dee, dada and a grand, gorgeous voice. The Daily Telegraph, 14 December: 18–19.

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Clark, A. (2011). Access new arias. The Financial Times, 4 February. Clopton, S. W., J. E. Stoddard and D. Dinesh (2006). Event preferences among arts patrons: implications for market segmentation and arts management. International Journal of Arts Management 9(1): 48–59. Currie, G. and C. Hobart (1994). Can opera be brought to the masses? A case study of Carmen the Opera. Marketing Intelligence & Planning 12: 13–18. Dewey, J. (2009). Art as Experience. New York: Perigee Books. Elias, N. and E. G. Dunning (1986). Leisure in the spare-time spectrum. In N. Elias and E. G. Dunning (eds) Quest for Excitement: Sport and Leisure in the Civilizing Process. Oxford: Blackwell: 91–125. Flowers, K. (2013). Co-opera-Co: our story so far. Retrieved 13 January 2013, from: http://www.co-operaco.org/html/about.html Fraser, P. J. (2004). The marketing of opera. In F. Kerrigan, P. J. Fraser and M. Ozbilgin (eds) Arts Marketing. London: Butterworth-Heinemann: 68–97. Fryer, P. (2005). The Opera Singer and the Silent Film. Jefferson, NC: McFarland. Gambling, T. and G. Andrews (1984). Does Baumol’s disease exist? Some findings from the Royal Shakespeare Company. Journal of Cultural Economics 8(2): 73–91. Gilbert, S. (2009). Opera for Everybody: The Story of English National Opera. London: Faber and Faber. Glass, P. (1999). Composing for the opera: conversation with John Howell. In B. Marranca and G. Dasgupta (eds) Conversations on Art and Performance. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press: 195–204. Hand, C. (2009). Modelling patterns of attendance at performing arts events: the case of music in the United Kingdom. Creative Industries Journal 2(3): 259–271. Hand, C. (2011). Do arts audiences act like consumers? Managing Leisure 16(2): 88–97. Heilbrun, J. and W. Hendon (1984). Once more with feeling: the arts boom revisited. In W. Hendon et al. (eds) The Economics of Cultural Industries. University of Akron, OH: Association for Cultural Economics: 34–46. Higgins, C. (2011). The battle for the big screen. The Guardian Media, 8 December: 13. Hill, E., C. O’Sullivan and T. O’Sullivan (2003). Creative Arts Marketing. London: Butterworth-Heinemann. Jobst, J. and S. Boerner (2011). Understanding customer satisfaction in opera: first steps toward a model. International Journal of Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Marketing 16(1): 50–69. Jones, L. (2000). Market orientation – A case study of three UK opera companies. International Journal of Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Marketing 5(4): 348–364. Kaiser, M. M. (2008). The Art of the Turnaround: Creating and Maintaining Healthy Arts Organizations. Waltham, MA: Brandeis University Press. Larsen, G. and R. Lawson (2010). Evolving perspectives on music consumption. In D. O’Reilly and F. Kerrigan (eds) Marketing the Arts: A Fresh Approach. London: Routledge: 190–204. Library of Congress (2012). History of media technology and opera. Retrieved 9 January, from: http:// www.loc.gov/rr/scitech/SciRefGuides/opera-technology.html Moser, S. C. (1983). The appeal and cost of opera. Higher Education Quarterly 37(3): 187–200. Oakes, S. (2003). Demographic and sponsorship considerations for jazz and classical music festivals. Service Industries Journal 23(3): 165–178. O’Reilly, D. (2011). Mapping the arts marketing literature. Arts Marketing: An International Journal 1(1): 26–38. Padmore, E. (2002). Experiences in opera management. Talk at Calder Bookshop, London. Palmer, J. (2004). Judith Weir. Private Views: Artists Working Today. London: Serpent’s Tail: 183–188. Parker, R. and C. Abbate (eds) (2012). A History of Opera: The Last Four Hundred Years. London: Allen Lane. Reedijk, A. (2013). Interview: General Director, Scottish Opera. Glasgow: Opera Scotland. Robinson, J. P. (1993). Arts Participation in America 1982–1992. Washington, DC: National Endowment for the Arts. Robinson, K. (ed.) (1982). The Arts in Schools: Principles, Practice and Provision. London: Calouste Gulbenkian Foundation. Ross, A. (2008). The Rest is Noise: Listening to the Twentieth Century. London: Fourth Estate. Rössel, J. (2011). Cultural capital and the variety of modes of cultural consumption in the opera audience. Sociological Quarterly 52(1): 83–103. Royal Opera House (2013). Tickets. Retrieved 18 January, from: http://www.roh.org.uk/visit/tickets Scollen, R. (2007). Regional voices talk theatre: audience development for the performing arts. International Journal of Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Marketing 13(1): 45–56. Senici, E. (2010). Porn style? Space and time in live opera videos. Opera Quarterly 26(1): 63–80. Snowman, D. (2009). The Gilded Stage: A Social History of Opera. London: Atlantic Books.

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INDEX

Academy Awards 291 access to the arts 31, 133 Adidas 105 Adorno, Theodor 72–3, 185, 344 advertising 386 aesthetic experience 35, 110, 189, 198; see also arts experience of individuals Amazon 277–8, 281 Antwerp 53 Apple (company) 105 art, definitions of 52, 184, 344 Art Basel fair 350–3, 359 art dealers 367 art fairs 298, 353–61; increasing number and importance of 354; reasons for galleries’ participation in 356–60; selection processes for 356–8; see also Art Basel fair art galleries 104, 303–4; fine art and commercial types 364; see also museums and galleries art market 345, 350–1; artists’ need to know about 372; gate-keeping role in 365–6 art publications 298 art schools 348 “art strikes” 20–1 artistic mode of production 26 artistic temperament 34 artists: lives of 51, 54; as marketers and entrepreneurs 51–6; view of arts marketing 71–7 Artleaks 22 arts consumers 186–8 arts consumption 183–91; active nature of 205, 376; benefits from 132, 189; definition of 184–6; domain of 186–7; practices of 188–9 Arts Council England 36, 41, 234, 334–5, 400 arts experience of individuals 204–13; see also intrinsic benefits from the arts experience

arts festivals 334–41; special nature of 335–7; special nature of participants in 337–41 arts marketing: definitions of 29, 37; as distinct from arts creation 92; importance of 5–9 arts organizations: competition between 102, 114; entrepreneurial marketing applied to 101–2; managers’ careers in 59–69; nature of 59–60 artworks and the artworld 296–9 attendance at arts performances: decision-making about 112–13; decline in 162–3, 168 auctioneers 301 auctions and auction houses 14, 299–303, 365 audience building 94, 188 audience development 33–4, 44–5, 55–6 audience engagement, strategies for 142–9, 166, 205, 213–14 audience experience 212; surveying and measurement of 204–5, 209–11, 378–80 audience motivation 215–17, 378–9 audience valuation of the performing arts 109–16; prediction of 115 Augustine, St 256 Australian Art Collector (magazine) 298 auteur theory 287 authenticity: concept of 266, 350; management of 347–9 autoethnography 256–61; symbiotic relationship with the arts 261–7; value for arts managers 267–9 autonomy: of arts organizations 318–20; individual 30, 34–5, 38–45 avant-garde art 24 axiology 195 Ballard, J. G. 279 Bartoli, Cecilia de 60 Baudrillard, Jean 8

405

Index Baumol–Bowen thesis 17 beauty, Kant’s conception of 35 Becker, Howard 25, 27, 346, 348, 356 Belgium 318 La Belle Noiseuse (film) 264 benefits from the arts 132, 188; see also intrinsic benefits Benjamin, Walter 243–5, 250–2 Bentham, Jeremy 41, 43 Bergman, Ingmar 265 Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra 392 Bezos, Jeff 277–8 Biggs, Peter 72 Blake, William 44 blogs 157–8, 172 Bloom, Lisa 248 “blue ocean” strategy 106 BMW (company) 244 book buyers 279 book marketing 281–2 Boston Museum of Fine Arts 243, 245, 250 Bourdieu, Pierre 27, 339–40, 346–7, 356 Bowie, David 190 brand communities 148 brand design 85 branding 84–6; of artists 345–7, 350–1, 369–70 Brecht, Bertolt 376 bribery 31 British Museum 249 Britten, Benjamin 336 Brooklyn Academy of Music 85 Bruckheimer, Jerry 287 bullying 34 Burns Sadek Research 235–6 business models 18 business sponsorship 6, 73 Cameron, James 287 Canada 318, 321, 334 Cannes Film Festival 335 career development: for artists 72, 348; for arts managers 59–69 Carey, John 35–6, 41–2 carnival and the carnivalesque 336–8 Carrotworkers’ Collective 22 Caruso, Enrico 398 celebrity culture 350 Cézanne, Paul 7 Chicago Lyric Opera 387 Chicago Symphony Orchestra 390–1 choice architecture 39–40 Chonko, Lawrence B. 30–3 Christie’s 247, 299, 301 “churn” in membership 237–9 classical art 187 classical music concerts 111–12

co-creation of meaning and value 96, 167–8, 195, 205, 212, 267–8, 380–2 cognitive dissonance 102 collecting of art 187, 243–52; using digital technology 247–50 collectively-oriented artistic practices 21–3 commercialization 74 commissioning editors 279 commodification of art 350 communities see brand communities; consumption communities; cyber-communities competition between arts organizations 102, 114 concert-going 111–12 concert promotion 384–8 conspicuous consumption 110 consumer behaviour, definition of 186 consumer involvement in the arts 96 consumer motivation towards the arts 214–29 consumption: determinants of 16; productive role of 4 consumption communities 8 consumption criteria in arts marketing 194–203 contemporary art 187 contextual mode of learning 312 conventionality indices 126–7 Co-Opera Co. 400 cooperatives of artists 22 copyright 17, 188 core values 82 cost functions 17 cost-plus pricing model 113 creative destruction 105 creative industries 71–2, 77, 183, 330 creative marketing 103 “creative orientations” model (Hirschman) 76–7 creative teams in film-making 286–7 creativity: as part of everyone’s life 164; self-oriented and peer-oriented 76–7 critical marketing studies 37–9 Critical Theory 38–9 critics: impact of 290–2; role of 25, 146 cross-cultural research 217, 227 crowdfunding 153 crowding-out of private donations 129–30; by government grants 120–3 Cruise, Tom 286 cultural capital 339–40 cultural economics 12–18; definition of 13; future prospects for 17–18 cultural experiences, motivation-benefit model of 222–8 cultural inclusion 139–40 cultural industries 345 cultural intermediaries 8 cultural organizations, changing role of 165–8 cultural production 4–9, 346 cultural values 111–12, 227–8

406

Index “Curatorgate” 303–4 customer lifetime value (CLV) 311 customer orientation 73–7, 194 customer profitability analysis (CPA) 311 customer relationship management (CRM) 100, 115, 311, 378 customer satisfaction 90–3, 205, 213, 310–11 customer value 92–3, 194–9; theory of 195–6; typology of 194–9; see also customer lifetime value cyber-communities 164 Dalí, Salvador 54, 56, 183, 195 dance 7, 84 Danto, Arthur 296 Day for Night (film) 264 decentered subject 5–6 defamiliarization theory 44 demand for cultural goods 13–15 Denmark 317–18 Department for Culture, Media and Sport (DCMS), UK 328 des Barres, Pamela 190 Dessau Opera House 396 Dickens, Charles 41 “difficult brands” framework 143–4 digital art 250 digital economy, the 17–18 digital patina 246 digitization and digitized copies 248–52 DiMaggio, P. J. 61, 63, 348 direct mailing 385 discounted tickets 114 disruptive marketing 104–5 double bottom line 89 downloading of media content 188–9 Duchamp, Marcel 20, 344 Durand-Ruel, Paul 302 eBay 14, 247 e-books 281 econometric techniques 12 ecstasy in the theory of customer value 198 Edinburgh International Festival 335 educational role of art institutions 306–7, 312–13, 400 elitism 35–6, 41, 197–8, 394 Emin, Tracey 54 emotion-based marketing 33, 103–4 emotional responses to arts products 112 endogenous price fixing 320 endorsement process for artists 346–7 English Touring Opera 398 entertainment and entertainment venues 34–5, 44–5, 93, 194, 198 entrepreneurial marketing 52, 55, 99–102; application to arts organizations 101–2;

concepts related to 103–6; definition of 101 entrepreneurship 51–6; organizational 104 environmental turbulence 102 epiphany 265–6 ethics 29–45, 198, 303–4 ethnography, definition of 259; see also autoethnography exchange process 24, 94–5, 185 exhibitionism in the theory of customer value 197 exogenous price fixing 320–1, 324 experience economy (Pine and Gilmore) 206 experience goods 15–16, 109, 113, 376, 382 experience journey concept 204, 212–13 experience marketing 335 experiential appreciation of art 306 experientialism in arts consumption 184, 186 extended self of the artist 350–1; see also artists; branding; career development; endorsement process; mission; visual artists extrinsic value of consumption 110 fairness in arts marketing 31 fans and fandom 189–91 FedEx 105 Ferragamo brand 244 festivals see film festivals Fiddle Festival of Britain 336 Fiesta San Antonio 338 Fifty Shades of Grey 275–6 film festivals 292 film marketing 31, 285–93; definition of 285 films: age classification for 287; awards given to 291; creative teams for 286–7; release strategies for 287–90; reviews of 290–2; star performers in 286; see also Oscars financial data, use of 311–12 fine art marketing 296–304; “legitimating authorities” for 365; pricing in 297–301; by specialist galleries 364 fixed costs 16–17 folk music 339 “folksonomy” 246 forgeries 344 forums 172 Foucault, Michel 269 fragmentation in arts production and consumption 6–8 France 318, 321 Franco, Damien 366 frequent customers 93 “Friends” schemes 233–4 fundraising 40, 44, 123–5, 129–30 Gagosian Gallery 247, 357 Gaugin, Paul 299 gentrification 26

407

Index Glasgow International Festival of Visual Art 335 Glass, Philip 397 Glastonbury Festival 335 Globe Theatre 188 Gould, Glenn 195 government policy for the arts 6 government support for the arts 120–30; types of 127–9 groupies 190–1 Guggenheim Museums 84 Haben und Brauchen 22 Hanks, Tom 291 “happenings” 9 Harley Davidson brand 148 Hay Festival 335 heavy metal music 189 “high art” 183, 186, 194, 244, 335, 393 “high culture” 35, 41 High Voltage Festival 188 Hirst, Damien 6, 54, 74, 244, 247, 299–300, 303 Hodgkins, Howard 347 Hong Kong Philharmonic Orchestra 391 Humane Society of the United States 177 hyperrealism 8–9 identity construction 5; see also organizational identity image, organizational 84–6 immersive theater 381 Impressionist painters 347, 351, 365 inclusive organizations 133 income effects on consumer demand 14–15, 113 inertia selling 40 “information processing” model of consumption 184 insider trading 301, 304 intangible products 376 intellectual property rights 33 International Ballet Festival of Miami 335 Internet technology 6, 246–7, 251, 366–8 intrinsic benefits from the arts experience 204, 207–9, 212–13 Italy 318 Jobs, Steve 282 Johnson, Lyndon B. 119 Jopling, Jay 303 Journal of Cultural Economics 12–13 Kant, Immanuel 29, 35, 41–5 Keller, Sam 357 Kennedy, John F. 119 Kfar Blum Chamber Music Festival 339 Kindle Direct Publishing (KDP) 277–8 Kinkade, Thomas 54

Klein, Yves 20 Kunstmarkt, Cologne 353 Land, Chris 26 late modernity 4 League of Symphony Orchestras 126 learning, measurement of 312 Lefebvre, H. 337 “legitimating authorities” for distribution of fine art 365 Leonardo da Vinci 60 Levitt, Ted 195, 276 Library of Congress 246 liminality 336–7 literary agents 277 live arts and entertainments, characteristics of 16 live movies 9 live web streaming of performances 381–2, 399, 401 London 2012 Festival 335 London Fashion Week 356 Los Angeles Philharmonic 85 Louis Vuitton brand 244 luxury goods 14 Lyotard, Jean-François 7, 257–8 McCartney, Paul 195 Malinowski, Bronislaw 259 Malraux, André 243 Manet, Edouard 54 Manhattan 26 market segmentation theory 337–8 market share 308 marketing: as an amoral technology 37, 40; at a local level 39–40; nature of 94 “marketing concept” 183 marketing mix 75, 100, 318, 382 Marxist theory 24–5 Mauss, Marcel 25 May, Susan 300 meaning, creation of 8; see also co-creation Melbourne Arts Centre 133–40 Melbourne Festival 335 Melbourne Writers Festival 153 membership schemes of arts organizations 233–40; characteristics of 234–5; constraints on 236; drivers and motives for 235–6; future prospects for 240; lapsing from 237–40; wider issues for 238–40 message boards 172 metrics 310–13 Metropolitan Museum of Art 187 Metropolitan Opera 381, 395, 399 Metzger, Gustav 20–1 Mill, John Stuart 41 Miller, Clara 82

408

Index Mills, Dennis 247 mission, organizational and artistic 34, 45, 81–5, 89–96 mission creep 82 mission statements 89–94 Mix It Up (MIU) program 134–9 modern art 7 modernity 4–5 Montaigne, Michel de 262 moral purpose of arts marketing 29–30 moral worth of the arts 34–6 Morrissey 31 motivation: multidimensional, multistage process approach to 220–8; of theatre audiences 215–17, 378–9; see also consumer motivation towards the arts Multicultural Arts Victoria (MAV) 133–9 multicultural groups’ attendance at arts events 132–40 Murakami, Takashi 244, 247 Museum of British Road Transport 324 Museum of Modern Art (MoMA), New York 85 museums 151, 243, 248–52, 303; digital 249–52; measurement of performance 306–14; pricing strategies 316–31; staff of 300 museums and galleries: admission charges for 317–30; free entry to 321–30 Museums, Libraries and Archives (MLA) Council 36 music: collecting of 245–6; consumption of 185–6, 189 Naadam Festival 338 Nantel, Jaques 29 national culture 227–8 National Endowment for the Arts (NEA), US 36, 119, 126–7, 162 National Information Standards Organization (NISO), US 249 National Theatre, London 381 Nazi Germany 35 neoclassical economics 24 Netherlands, the 317–18 networking 61 New Orleans Jazz Festival 335 new public management 329 New York Philharmonic Orchestra 85, 389–90 Newell, Jenny 250 Newman, Danny 234, 387 Newman, John Henry 41 Nike (company) 244 Notes for an African Oresteia (film) 264 obsessive fan behaviour 33 d’Offay, Anthony 302 Old Master paintings 344–5

opera 105, 126, 189, 393–401; complex nature of 393–4; consumers of 395–6; financing of 394–5; future prospects for 400–1; marketing and promotion of 397–8; see also English Touring Opera; Royal Opera House; Scottish Opera; Sydney Opera House Opera Australia 155–9 orchestras 85, 126, 384–92; case studies of 389–92 organizational identity 81–4; consistency with projected identity 83–4; definition of 81; internal disagreements about 83 Orkney Ceilidh Festival 335 Oscars 291 Ovid 51 Page, Larry 282 Parsons, Betty 302 partnering theory 237 partnership arrangements linked to arts events 132–40; arguments against 134 Pasolini, Pier Paolo 264 pastiche 7, 258 patronage of the arts 17, 73 Patterson, James 278 “pay what you want” pricing strategy 115–16 peak-load pricing 115 Pepi, Michael 303 performance measurement 96; see also museums performance studies 376 performing arts, nature of 143 peripheral aspects of arts experiences 104, 112, 317, 319, 322–4, 329 “persistent presence” strategy 143–5 Persona (film) 265 personnel issues in the arts 33–4 Perth Institute of Contemporary Arts (PICA) 94 Petr, C. 236 Pettersen, J. S. 356 Philadelphia Orchestra 85 Picasso, Pablo 7, 54, 56, 345 Pinter, Harold 195 Pitta, D. 106 Plato 252, 256 Pliny the Elder 51 “pluri-signified” products 345 Pop Art 7 popular culture 165, 194, 244 popular music 185–6 Portland Museum of Art 249 poster promotions 385 postmodern art 7–9 postmodern marketing 338–9 postmodernism 3–9, 257–8 post-performance feedback 147 Poulter, Emma K. 249 Pountney, David 400 Pozible crowdfunding site 153–7

409

Index Pratt, Mary Louise 259 Precarious Workers Brigade (PWB) 22 Price, Gary 250 price discrimination 114 pricing 13–14, 32–3; by artists of their own work 74; of arts products 109, 113–16; of concert subscriptions 387; of fine art 297–301; for museums 308, 316–31; see also cost-plus pricing model; “pay what you want” pricing strategy; peak-load pricing; value-based pricing model proactive orientation 101 “promoters” of the arts 32 public goods 121 The Public Theatre 84–5 publishing houses 276–9 Putnam, David 234 quality of artistic productions 16 Queen Victoria Market, Melbourne 221–2 “ramping” 301–2 Raphael 344 rational addiction approach to demand 15 rational choice model of consumption 184 reading styles 186 Reason, M. 376 reference prices 114; see also pricing: of arts products relationship marketing 39, 55, 84, 144 release strategies for films 287–90 repertoire, choice of 33, 126–7 representational and anti-representational art 7 reproduction of works of art 243 reselling of tickets 33 return on assets (ROA) measure 308 reviews of films 290–2 risk homeostasis 40–1 risk-taking in the arts 101, 205 rites of passage 336 Rivette, Jacques 264 Robbie Burns Day in Australia 337 Robinson, Laura 249 Rowling, J. K. 282 Royal Opera House, Covent Garden 394, 398–9 Royal Shakespeare Company 17 rural marketing 377 Russell, Leon 190 Saatchi, Maurice and Charles 25 Saatchi Online 366 Saatchi Sensation Exhibition 303 Salle, David 302 Salzburg Festival 335, 339 scaled-down artistic compositions 16 scarcity in markets 13 Schnabel, Julian 302 Scottish Opera 395, 400

seat attributes, value placed on 115 sell through analysis 308–10 selling one’s self as an artist 351 selling orientation in the arts 195 service dominant (S-D) logic 207 Sidmouth Folk Week 335 signifier and signified 8 Simmel, Georg 4, 24 “simulcasting” 381; see also live web streaming “small worlds” strategy 144 social benefits of artistic experience 36, 96 social bookmarking 172 social capital 340, 346–9 social event sites 172 social inclusion 132–4, 140 social marketing 37, 40, 44 social media 144–8, 161–8, 170–9; definition of 170–1; listening to conversations on 175–6; metrics derived from 177–8; organizations’ involvement with 173–8; users of 171–2 social networking sites 172 social news sites 172 social psychology 220–2 socially co-constructed value 346–7, 351 Socrates 252, 256 Sónar Festivals 335 Sotheby’s 247, 299–301 Southbank Centre 235–6 souvenirs for tourists 33 Spain 322 spectatorship as an active process 376 stakeholders 73, 82–6, 101, 297, 316, 335–6, 346 star performers in films 286; see also “superstars” of the art world Stiglitz, Joseph 300 Stone, Sharon 286 subjective well-being (SWB) 18 subliminal marketing 39 subscription brochures 388 subscription renewals 40 subscription schemes 114, 234, 384–8; see also membership schemes of arts organizations subsidies for the arts and cultural institutions 17, 119, 394; forms of 127–9 “superstars” of the art world 300–1, 346 Survey of Public Participation in the Arts (SPPA), US 162–3 Svejenova, S. 348 Sydney Opera House 84 symbolic products 376 Tate Galleries 85, 233 tax exemptions 119–20, 128–30 Teatro Colón, Buenos Aires 395–6 Te Papa Museum 152–3, 158–9 The Terminal (film) 291

410

Index theatre, co-production in 380–1; see also Royal Shakespeare Company theatre audiences 338–9; in rural areas 377–8; motivation of 378–9 theatre marketing 375–82; trends in 380–2 Théâtre du Soleil 377 Theory of Reasoned Action (TRA) 226 Third Eye Blind 14 touring theatre 377 tourist motivation studies 214–29 trade fairs, literature on 355–6 traditional form of arts marketing 100 transmedia storytelling 293 “tribal marketing” 339 Truffaut, François 264 Tunick, Spencer 74 Tusa, John 36 Unge Kunstnere og Kunstformidlere 22 unrelated business income tax (UBIT) 128 Utilitarianism 29, 41–5 valuation of arts products 109; see also audience valuation of the performing arts value: audience perceptions of 379–80; definition of 110; types of 83; of visual art 344–51 value added in an artistic performance 95 value-based pricing model 113 value production through art 23–5 Vanilla, Cherry 190 Vasari, Giorgio 51

Venice Biennale 298 Verona opera festival 336 visual artists, distribution of artworks by 364–72 Wagner, Richard 394, 398 Wallace, David Foster 275, 283 Walmsley, B. 33, 44, 214 Warhol, Andy 54, 195, 244, 299, 345, 350–1 Waterman, S. 339–41 Waterstone’s (booksellers) 278 Web 2.0 technology 144, 146–7, 151–2, 157–9 web-based technologies, use of 142–59; historical evolution of 144–5 websites, artists’ 368–71 Weintraub, A. 368 Weir, Judith 397 Welfare State International 30 Winnipeg Fringe Theatre Festival 340 WOMADelaide 335 word-of-mouth (WOM) recommendations 288, 291–2 Working Artists in the Greater Economy (WAGE) 22 world music 339 The X-Factor (television show) 336 young people’s attendance at performances 113 YouTube 249 Zeta-Jones, Catherine 291 Zola, Émile 302

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