As I rode the bus to school the other day, I thought about all the strange sights and sounds that one chances to encounter when taking part in the glorious tradition of public transportation. For instance, one Wednesday morning I sat down in the front of the bus in a seat the faces in. In the seat across from me was a rotund man wearing jeans and a windbreaker. Not so strange from that description, but this very hairy man was not wearing a shirt and the windbreaker was open. Suffice to say it was difficult to keep from staring. Five minutes into the ride, I realized he was sitting next to a pet carrier which made me a little nervous.
I have to say I prefer life to be as normal as possible. Anything too out of the ordinary makes me uncomfortable. I think a lot of it has to do with growing up in the Midwest. We like to keep to ourselves and go about our business as usual without drawing too much attention. However, when I step onto some form of public transportation those feelings melt away because I know even at my most insane, I will look normal compared to some of the specimens traveling about the metropolis. As my good friend and partner in culinary crime says, "I always feel like I'm in a sociological experiment."
While I tried not to stare at the natural sweater-wearing man with the purple pet carrier, I couldn't help feeling better about myself and wondering why he wasn't wearing a shirt. This made me reminisce about all the magic I've come across while riding public transportation. Once in Chicago I happened upon a group of Latino, Spanish-speaking trannies. The best part of that ride was that my travel companion having grown up in a shelter where everyone appears normal was so flabbergasted and uncomfortable. I on the other hand was excited to be in a city where such occurrences were considered mainstream, so much so that no one made a big deal except my friend. This past week I was in Boston for the annual Opera America Conference. While I took the T from the airport out to Boston University to meet a friend, I watched a deaf hipster girl sign. I'm pretty sure she wasn't with or signing to anyone in particular, but instead she was absentmindedly thinking "out loud." It made me wish I knew sign language so I could hear her.
These are the situations at the forefront of my mind, but there are many other gems.
Until next time.
--Caro
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Opera in High Definition
A couple weeks ago I had the pleasure of hearing a panel discuss the Metropolitan Opera's HD Broadcast program. The panel included Marc Scorca, President and CEO of Opera America, Marcus Kuechle, Director of Artistic Operations for Cincinnati Opera, and Robin Guarino, CCM Opera Chair and international director, with Majorie Fox, CCM Electronic Media Division Head as mediator. Many of the questions asked were centered around the audience building aspect of the HD broadcasts. Are these broadcasts actually bringing in new audiences? The sentiment expressed by the panel is that this initiative is still very young, being started in the 2006-2007 season, and it is rather early to tell. Throughout the evening's discussion a few points were brought up that I'd like to address here. (If you'd like a review of the session check out these articles: ConcertoNet.com and Cincinnati.com.)
The first issue I'd like to discuss is the lack of age diversity in the broadcast audiences. One gentleman mentioned that youngsters did not want to spend a Saturday afternoon in a theatre. That may be true on several accounts. However, I would like to mention that as a "youngster," one still in school at that, I don't have the time to spend sitting in a theatre on a Saturday afternoon. It isn't that I don't want to, I just don't have the time. I'm usually sitting in my favorite coffee shop writing papers or reading for class on Saturdays and Sundays. Then, when the operas are rebroadcast on Wednesday evenings, I'm actually in class. You can see how this causes a problem or two. However, another gentleman suggested the performances be rebroadcast at a more suitable time for the younger audiences members, such as 1:00am. I do agree that showing an opera in a movie theatre in the late evening would probably be better for capturing the younger demographic, though 1:00am may be a bit extreme.
Thank you to Robin Guarino who mentioned that the $22 ticket price is still pretty expensive for a student. Twenty-two dollars is a lot of money for a someone who has a negative income. If I'm going to spend that much money on an arts event, I'd rather spend it on a live, in house performance. Mr. Kuechle did touch on the idea that going to the opera is still an event for the younger audiences. Again, this is something with which I agree, to an extent. I have to admit I still get very excited to watch an opera in house because I really enjoy the live aspect. Personally, I would much rather go to the actual opera house rather than watch a broadcast because I can choose what to look at. With the broadcast, I only get to look at what the HD Director chose as the appropriate shot. While that allows me to have an intimate view of a duet, I don't get to see how the singers are relating to the rest of the set or the other singers on stage.
Ms. Guarino discussed how today's audiences are much more sophisticated than they were fifty years ago. We expect the sets to be more realistic. We expect a consumptive Violetta to be slender with a sense of fragility and not like she spends her time sitting on her recamier, eating bonbons. What does that mean for the opera industry as a whole? Will this sort of expected realism lend itself to an increase in smaller opera houses that allow for a more intimate setting giving the audience an up close look at the action? Or will we trend towards grandiose spectacle. I hope for the sake of everyone's pocketbook that we do not become excessive. How will the conservatories and music schools react to the need for stronger actors? Will there be an increase in acting class requirements, or will these additional acting classes be substitutes for other classes? Truth be told, acting classes may be more beneficial than most advanced theory classes. How would that affect the staff and faculty associated with teaching such classes -- will they be paid more; will the schools hire more individuals to teach?
If the nation's conservatories and music schools are truly invested in the success of their students, they will provide adequate stage training through acting classes, opera scene workshops and on stage roles. Singers who possess the ability to physically communicate the ideas and emotions in the text of an aria or song have a better advantage than their counterparts. I am not implying that every singer will perform at the Met during an HD broadcast. However, in this transitive time, as more houses are starting their own HD programs, it is imperative that singers be prepared to do what is expected of them. The ultimate goal should be artistry rather than technical perfection. Emotion is not perfect, but it is real. In the quest for realism, in an industry that is based on survival of the fittest, it would be in every artist's interest to become a stronger actor.
--Caro
The first issue I'd like to discuss is the lack of age diversity in the broadcast audiences. One gentleman mentioned that youngsters did not want to spend a Saturday afternoon in a theatre. That may be true on several accounts. However, I would like to mention that as a "youngster," one still in school at that, I don't have the time to spend sitting in a theatre on a Saturday afternoon. It isn't that I don't want to, I just don't have the time. I'm usually sitting in my favorite coffee shop writing papers or reading for class on Saturdays and Sundays. Then, when the operas are rebroadcast on Wednesday evenings, I'm actually in class. You can see how this causes a problem or two. However, another gentleman suggested the performances be rebroadcast at a more suitable time for the younger audiences members, such as 1:00am. I do agree that showing an opera in a movie theatre in the late evening would probably be better for capturing the younger demographic, though 1:00am may be a bit extreme.
Thank you to Robin Guarino who mentioned that the $22 ticket price is still pretty expensive for a student. Twenty-two dollars is a lot of money for a someone who has a negative income. If I'm going to spend that much money on an arts event, I'd rather spend it on a live, in house performance. Mr. Kuechle did touch on the idea that going to the opera is still an event for the younger audiences. Again, this is something with which I agree, to an extent. I have to admit I still get very excited to watch an opera in house because I really enjoy the live aspect. Personally, I would much rather go to the actual opera house rather than watch a broadcast because I can choose what to look at. With the broadcast, I only get to look at what the HD Director chose as the appropriate shot. While that allows me to have an intimate view of a duet, I don't get to see how the singers are relating to the rest of the set or the other singers on stage.
Ms. Guarino discussed how today's audiences are much more sophisticated than they were fifty years ago. We expect the sets to be more realistic. We expect a consumptive Violetta to be slender with a sense of fragility and not like she spends her time sitting on her recamier, eating bonbons. What does that mean for the opera industry as a whole? Will this sort of expected realism lend itself to an increase in smaller opera houses that allow for a more intimate setting giving the audience an up close look at the action? Or will we trend towards grandiose spectacle. I hope for the sake of everyone's pocketbook that we do not become excessive. How will the conservatories and music schools react to the need for stronger actors? Will there be an increase in acting class requirements, or will these additional acting classes be substitutes for other classes? Truth be told, acting classes may be more beneficial than most advanced theory classes. How would that affect the staff and faculty associated with teaching such classes -- will they be paid more; will the schools hire more individuals to teach?
If the nation's conservatories and music schools are truly invested in the success of their students, they will provide adequate stage training through acting classes, opera scene workshops and on stage roles. Singers who possess the ability to physically communicate the ideas and emotions in the text of an aria or song have a better advantage than their counterparts. I am not implying that every singer will perform at the Met during an HD broadcast. However, in this transitive time, as more houses are starting their own HD programs, it is imperative that singers be prepared to do what is expected of them. The ultimate goal should be artistry rather than technical perfection. Emotion is not perfect, but it is real. In the quest for realism, in an industry that is based on survival of the fittest, it would be in every artist's interest to become a stronger actor.
--Caro
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Earth Hour!
In one hour from now the best hour of the year will begin: Earth Hour! What is Earth Hour, you ask. Well let me educate you. At 8:30pm the lights of the world will go dark for one hour. This act of collective solidarity helps us all to remember we are united as global citizens. We have one earth, and for one hour, we honor her.
I have celebrate three Earth Hours in my day. The first, harkens back to my senior year of college. The lights when out and somehow I ended up in the bathtub with my two roommates. They say college is all about experimenting, right? To calm the heart rates of my family members who happen to read my blog, I must clarify. Anne, Dani and I were fully clothed. We decided we wanted to try this cool thing Anne had read about. First you needed to be in a completely dark room. The darkest place in our apartment at the time was the bathroom because it had no windows. Second you needed a camera with a flash. The idea was each person would make a funny face and the flash would go off and you'd be able to see the negative of the funny face. So the three of us climbed into the bathtub. We were quite a sight, twisted this way and that, making faces and such. What a good time*.
This year I plan to sit in my bathtub, fully clothed and read my favorite book of all time, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by candlelight.
Why don't you join the rest of the world in this collective tribute to Lady Earth. Turn off your lights and have a little fun.
--Caro
*For the inquiring minds, we were completely sober.
I have celebrate three Earth Hours in my day. The first, harkens back to my senior year of college. The lights when out and somehow I ended up in the bathtub with my two roommates. They say college is all about experimenting, right? To calm the heart rates of my family members who happen to read my blog, I must clarify. Anne, Dani and I were fully clothed. We decided we wanted to try this cool thing Anne had read about. First you needed to be in a completely dark room. The darkest place in our apartment at the time was the bathroom because it had no windows. Second you needed a camera with a flash. The idea was each person would make a funny face and the flash would go off and you'd be able to see the negative of the funny face. So the three of us climbed into the bathtub. We were quite a sight, twisted this way and that, making faces and such. What a good time*.
This year I plan to sit in my bathtub, fully clothed and read my favorite book of all time, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by candlelight.
Why don't you join the rest of the world in this collective tribute to Lady Earth. Turn off your lights and have a little fun.
--Caro
*For the inquiring minds, we were completely sober.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
How Art Can Save the World
As I was sipping on my bold coffee blend from my favorite local organic, fair trade coffee shop Aquarius Star, I was catching up on all my blog subscriptions on google reader and this post caught my eye: Solving World Disasters through Art. This post is from "Books of Adam," a blog written by a fellow misanthrope, Adam Ellis, who chooses to bestow the goings-on of his life upon the undeserving, but ultimately grateful community of the internets.
When I first saw the title I thought to myself, "I love art! The world's pretty boss. How do I save the world with art?!" Naturally, I clicked on the link and read Adam's post. He delightfully insulted the American people and their obsession with reality television while simultaneously asking for the world to provide support the Japanese people. Adam has created a few drawings and put them up for auction on eBay. All proceeds will go to the rescue efforts in Japan via International Medical Corp.
So, you have a choice. You can either go to eBay and vote on any one of these three picture (personally, I'm a fan of the Sailor Moon one) or you can text REDCROSS to 90999 (US) to donate $10 to help Japan.
It's up to you. Be a global citizen. Help out the country that brought us George Tekai, Godzilla, and Mario Brothers.
--Caro
When I first saw the title I thought to myself, "I love art! The world's pretty boss. How do I save the world with art?!" Naturally, I clicked on the link and read Adam's post. He delightfully insulted the American people and their obsession with reality television while simultaneously asking for the world to provide support the Japanese people. Adam has created a few drawings and put them up for auction on eBay. All proceeds will go to the rescue efforts in Japan via International Medical Corp.
So, you have a choice. You can either go to eBay and vote on any one of these three picture (personally, I'm a fan of the Sailor Moon one) or you can text REDCROSS to 90999 (US) to donate $10 to help Japan.
It's up to you. Be a global citizen. Help out the country that brought us George Tekai, Godzilla, and Mario Brothers.
--Caro
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Second Star to the Right and Straight on 'Til Morning
I really enjoy making lists. I have them all over my apartment -- in my planner, on my refrigerator, on the wall behind my computer, note cards on my desk, excel spreadsheets, etc. I could single handedly keep 3M in business with all the Post-It Notes I use. Each list is different. I have my daily "Things To Accomplish: 'Day of the Week' Edition list, my recipes to try list, the accompanying grocery list, books I want to read, music I want to purchase, movies I want to see, articles I want to read, things I need to research for my thesis. The list making never ends.
The closer I am to finishing school, the longer my things to do/acquire when I'm a "real adult” list becomes. You might say, "But Carolyne, you are an adult. You've been able to vote for almost 6 years. You can legally drink. Contracts are valid when you sign then, provided you've met the four requirements of a contract and you're not entering into a deal with a minor and something or other about life necessities." Yes, all those are true, but I still don't really feel like a real adult. I can't rent a car without extraordinary insurance fees. I still don't pay for my own health insurance. I don't have a real job. Frankly, I've never had a full time job for more than four months at a time. I still operate at a deficit. Again, you may say, "But Carolyne, lots of people are in debt. It's almost like a mark of being a real adult -- going to school for something that may never pay off. Also, with unemployment rates as high as they are, you won't be the only adult without a job!" Again, that is true, but I have a certain list of things I need to do or acquire before I feel I’ve become a real adult. I've already made a couple steps in that direction. I own coasters and I purchased curtains. I pay rent and other bills every month. So what are these other mysterious real adult qualifications? Let me write you a brief list.
- Subscribe to the Sunday Times.
- Subscribe to at least 3 art organizations, or be a member.
- Keep a plant alive.
- Have a career (or job) that has benefits!!! -- also having the same full time job for at least one year
- Pay back student loans.
- Start investing
- Owning a real couch/love seat instead of a futon.
- Matching silverware.
- Actually being able to put money into my savings account and keep it there.
- Subscribe to magazines, particularly Opera News, Classical Singer, Cooking Light, The New Yorker, Marie Claire, Time, and The Economist.
- Colonoscopy. Need I say more?
This is not an all inclusive list. It doesn't even really begin to scratch the surface. Clearly some of the things on my list won't, well shouldn't, be crossed off for many, many years. That begs the question, do we ever become "real adults?"
In my life experience I have seen many adults act like children. Even the most mature individuals still behave like a tantrum throwing four year old because someone told them no. Are we really just children in adult bodies? Is "adult" a societal concept we've created over the years to distinguish ourselves from children? When does childhood really end? A good friend of mine brought up an interesting point saying, "Your childhood seems to affect everything that happens in your adulthood. We are constantly referring to what happened to us when we were kids whether we're trying to recreate it or change it." That's very true. Some parents live vicariously through their own children because they had terrible childhoods. Adult versus child is a very interesting concept. Are we confusing “grown up” or “mature” with “adult?” Are we really trying to identify the point at which a person stops thinking only of themselves and starts considering other people? Believe you me, it sure as hell isn't 18. Perhaps this is something, like how many licks it takes to get the the tootsie roll center of a tootsie pop, the world will never know.
--Caro
--Caro
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Donde esta Maria?
Dr. Maria DiPalma is a large reason I decided to attend Simpson College. I came down to Indianola for my audition on April 19, 2005. Maria greeted my mother and me, introduced herself and told me about the audition process. The moment my eyes laid upon Maria I knew Simpson would be the school for me. She was wearing the coolest shoes I'd ever seen a professor wear! Admittedly, I hadn't seen many professors, but these shoes were awesome. They had giant rhinestones all over them! Also, without even knowing her last name, I could tell Dr. DiPalma was Italian. She looked a lot like some of the women in my family -- conveniently my mother happens to be full-blood Italian. Unfortunately, you can't tell I'm half Italian thanks to my dad's English/German/Irish genes. I digress. After Maria explained the audition process she asked if I had any questions. I cannot recall what I said, but I can only assume it was funny because I remember Maria laughing or cackling, rather. Maria is a cackler.
For anyone who has known me more than 30 seconds should be well aware of how nerdy I am. So what I’m about to tell you should be no shock. Truthfully, I should probably be ashamed to admit this, but I'm not. When I first got to Simpson in the fall of 2005, I pretended I was at Hogwarts. Like Hogwarts for Harry, Simpson was this new magical (metaphorically) escape from what I considered to be the torturous clutches of rural Iowa. I tried to match my professors to the characters in the Harry Potter series. Maria DiPalma was clearly the understated badass that is Minerva McGonagall. Knowing I had my own version of Professor McGonagall was strangely comforting to me. Maria’s office was full of eclectic oddities like little metal spiders or a stegosaurus figurine or the boar’s head that we used for the madrigal dinner. She always had coffee mugs and teacups strewn around the office. I never told Maria about this comparison, but I can only imagine she’d be pleased to hear about it.
I was never in Maria’s studio, but she was my advisor. We had a mutual understanding that I would figure out my schedule and she’d sign me up for the classes. There wasn’t much advising. Every once in awhile, Maria would recommend I sign up for a different section of a class because she liked that professor better. The only time she really warned me against taking a specific class was for my senior colloquium. This is a capstone at Simpson where seniors take a class that helps them to define who they are and what their contributions to society as a whole can be. Yank, yank, right? Anyway, I was signing up for “Crafting Your Life” with one of the school chaplains. Maria told me point blank that I would hate this class and she didn’t think it would be a good idea for me to take it citing that it was “very touchy –feely and about finger painting.” Unfortunately, this was the only senior colloquium that would fit in my schedule. I would love to say that Maria was wrong and this class was a wonderful learning experience for me and allowed me to grow mentally, creatively and spiritually. However, Maria was 100% right. I hated every damn minute of that class.
It was a project in this class that got me sent to Maria’s office like I was a truant teenager. We were assigned a cornerstone project where each student to create a power point presentation about each of the general education classes we had taken throughout our time at Simpson. At the time the presentation was completed I still had three cornerstones left to take. After I turned in my project, my professor e-mailed informing me that my project was incomplete and I had 24 hours to add the three pictures and paragraphs or I’d fail. Believe you me I wrote an angry response to my professor outlining her syllabus; stating that I had in fact completed the project to her specifications and that if she wanted something different she should have so. Turns out she had changed the project during the one class I missed the whole semester. The next day there was a note for me on the board summoning me to Maria’s office. I figured she needed to talk to me about some props for the opera, except she didn’t. She informed me that my senior colloquium professor had essentially tattled on me and requested Maria give me a talking-to. Though she agreed with my assessment of the situation, Maria warned me against the consequences of e-mailing while angry. She made me apologize to my professor and told me to pretend like I was interacting with a donor – it would be good practice for me. Maria offered me some sage advice that day when she said, “Carolyne, stupid people don’t like it when you point out their stupidity.” Truer words were never spoken, Maria.
It has been a few days since I learned that Maria has stopped her chemo treatments and moved into a hospice center this week after a nine year battle with cancer. While the idea that this could happen has been sitting in the back of my mind, I always believed she'd kick cancer in groin and prevail triumphantly. Dr. DiPalma isn't one to take shit from anyone. She's a tough, straight-shooting broad – a wonderful role model. I can only imagine as she passes on from this world to the next that she’ll be making a grand entrance at a party wearing some elaborately fabulous ensemble with some equally amazing shoes. Someone will hand her a very dirty martini. Someone else will tell a dirty joke, and Maria’s cackle will be heard throughout kingdom come.
For anyone who has known me more than 30 seconds should be well aware of how nerdy I am. So what I’m about to tell you should be no shock. Truthfully, I should probably be ashamed to admit this, but I'm not. When I first got to Simpson in the fall of 2005, I pretended I was at Hogwarts. Like Hogwarts for Harry, Simpson was this new magical (metaphorically) escape from what I considered to be the torturous clutches of rural Iowa. I tried to match my professors to the characters in the Harry Potter series. Maria DiPalma was clearly the understated badass that is Minerva McGonagall. Knowing I had my own version of Professor McGonagall was strangely comforting to me. Maria’s office was full of eclectic oddities like little metal spiders or a stegosaurus figurine or the boar’s head that we used for the madrigal dinner. She always had coffee mugs and teacups strewn around the office. I never told Maria about this comparison, but I can only imagine she’d be pleased to hear about it.
I was never in Maria’s studio, but she was my advisor. We had a mutual understanding that I would figure out my schedule and she’d sign me up for the classes. There wasn’t much advising. Every once in awhile, Maria would recommend I sign up for a different section of a class because she liked that professor better. The only time she really warned me against taking a specific class was for my senior colloquium. This is a capstone at Simpson where seniors take a class that helps them to define who they are and what their contributions to society as a whole can be. Yank, yank, right? Anyway, I was signing up for “Crafting Your Life” with one of the school chaplains. Maria told me point blank that I would hate this class and she didn’t think it would be a good idea for me to take it citing that it was “very touchy –feely and about finger painting.” Unfortunately, this was the only senior colloquium that would fit in my schedule. I would love to say that Maria was wrong and this class was a wonderful learning experience for me and allowed me to grow mentally, creatively and spiritually. However, Maria was 100% right. I hated every damn minute of that class.
It was a project in this class that got me sent to Maria’s office like I was a truant teenager. We were assigned a cornerstone project where each student to create a power point presentation about each of the general education classes we had taken throughout our time at Simpson. At the time the presentation was completed I still had three cornerstones left to take. After I turned in my project, my professor e-mailed informing me that my project was incomplete and I had 24 hours to add the three pictures and paragraphs or I’d fail. Believe you me I wrote an angry response to my professor outlining her syllabus; stating that I had in fact completed the project to her specifications and that if she wanted something different she should have so. Turns out she had changed the project during the one class I missed the whole semester. The next day there was a note for me on the board summoning me to Maria’s office. I figured she needed to talk to me about some props for the opera, except she didn’t. She informed me that my senior colloquium professor had essentially tattled on me and requested Maria give me a talking-to. Though she agreed with my assessment of the situation, Maria warned me against the consequences of e-mailing while angry. She made me apologize to my professor and told me to pretend like I was interacting with a donor – it would be good practice for me. Maria offered me some sage advice that day when she said, “Carolyne, stupid people don’t like it when you point out their stupidity.” Truer words were never spoken, Maria.
It has been a few days since I learned that Maria has stopped her chemo treatments and moved into a hospice center this week after a nine year battle with cancer. While the idea that this could happen has been sitting in the back of my mind, I always believed she'd kick cancer in groin and prevail triumphantly. Dr. DiPalma isn't one to take shit from anyone. She's a tough, straight-shooting broad – a wonderful role model. I can only imagine as she passes on from this world to the next that she’ll be making a grand entrance at a party wearing some elaborately fabulous ensemble with some equally amazing shoes. Someone will hand her a very dirty martini. Someone else will tell a dirty joke, and Maria’s cackle will be heard throughout kingdom come.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Does Non-profit Mean Unaccountable?
I recently read a blog post by Diane Ragsdale in which she discusses the amount of nonprofit arts organizations and the funding pool in which they exist. She accurately used the metaphor of "too many fish in the pond." In a simple economic look at our sub-sector, we have a surplus and not enough demand. While the arts help make a community vibrant, is there a point at which we have too much? Is our market so saturated with arts organizations that our audiences, current and potential, are so overwhelmed to the point of indifference? This begs the time old question: quality versus quantity? If our revenue streams vis a vis individual and corporate contributions were more focused on a smaller number of organizations, would the quality improve? Would more people be willing to donate if there were fewer organizations asking for money?
Is there something we as citizens can do to deal with this potential problem? I've been thinking about the possibility of a policy that could help cut down on the number of arts organizations. Before you get your panties of righteousness in a bunch, hear me out. There is a definite problem with arts organizations being poorly managed and having to close their doors as a result. The worse the economy gets the more organizations are forced to file for bankruptcy or dramatically scale back their seasons or cease to exist altogether. The strongest factor in this problem is the reliance upon public funding. Ragsdale suggests that "the lack of ‘ownership’ in the nonprofit system too often seems to result in a lack of ‘accountability.’" Meaning that because nonprofits are for public benefit with boards of directors seeing over the administrative staff there isn't always a clear communication stream nor a clear sense of ownership.
Is there something we as citizens can do to deal with this potential problem? I've been thinking about the possibility of a policy that could help cut down on the number of arts organizations. Before you get your panties of righteousness in a bunch, hear me out. There is a definite problem with arts organizations being poorly managed and having to close their doors as a result. The worse the economy gets the more organizations are forced to file for bankruptcy or dramatically scale back their seasons or cease to exist altogether. The strongest factor in this problem is the reliance upon public funding. Ragsdale suggests that "the lack of ‘ownership’ in the nonprofit system too often seems to result in a lack of ‘accountability.’" Meaning that because nonprofits are for public benefit with boards of directors seeing over the administrative staff there isn't always a clear communication stream nor a clear sense of ownership.
I am suggesting that we, the public, demand accountability of our nonprofit organizations. They are here for us, why not insist upon not only quality products and services, but quality management? With the installation of some sort of policy that requires nonprofits to be more accountable, we would stipulate that companies do what they can to mitigate the possibility of running a deficit. I know we already have some regulations in place such as tax filings, etc. However, so many companies continually end their fiscal year in the red and don't do anything to change their practices. Perhaps what I'm suggesting is the establishment of implications, consequences for poor management. I am not completely sure how this will happen in our capitalistic free market. Maybe Adam Smith's invisible hand needs speed up and use the proverbial fly swatter to help eliminate these mismanaged nonprofits from the market place for good. I'm not sure how to solve this problem, but it's definitely something to think about.
--Caro
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