Guest post: "The genuine 'Hungaricum'", by Angéla Hont (Hungary)

The event that definitely marked my first visit to Budapest was the dance-house experience. Seeing people of all ages, but mostly young people, enjoying their Saturday night playing, singing and dancing their folk music was something I had never seen before. It was the energy, the pleasure, the pride, the joy this experience involved that made it truly special. And also the possibility to be part of it, to be taken into the round dance, to try to pick up the steps and enjoy the party in the company of the locals. My friend and colleague Angéla Hont is passionate about her country´s folk culture. As Head of Marketing at the Hungarian Heritage House, she has the possibility to work for the promotion of this valuable heritage, both nationally and internationally (the 2013 Smithsonian Folklife Festival in Wahsington this summer will be celebrating the Hungarian heritage and Angéla will be there). In this guest post she presents the dance-house movement and shares a bit of her passion with us. mv  

Photo: Hungarian Heritage House

I have been in the dance-house movement since the age of 6. It is natural for me that it is part of my professional life and leisure time; it charges me physically and spiritually. I am not the only one to live like this. Thousands of people in Budapest and all over Hungary, as well as in neighboring countries and the whole world (from Australia to South America) share this feeling.

But why could this be important for those who are not part of this subculture? For those who visit Hungary as tourists or come on a business trip? For those who are looking for genuine and unique features while exploring a new country? For those who like to identify a nation with things that are typical only to locals?

Ladies and Gentlemen, because this is Hungary’s unique specialty. All Hungarians can be proud of it and all foreigners can learn it. The dance-house and the resulting dance-house movement is a real Hungaricum.

Talking about Hungary and Hungarians to a foreigner, a number of stereotypes come up, form paprika to the spas, from the Nobel laureates to the view of the Danube with the Parliament, from the goulasch to the puszta, from the poppy-seed bread (mákos guba) to the most beautiful women in the world, from the palinka to the Herend porcelain, from Puskás to Bartók and to Imre Kertész. However, if we are honest to ourselves, we have to admit that, even though we think that these things, lives, and results are outstanding and worth telling the world, none of them is truly unique. Special buildings, food, manufactured goods, beautiful views and people can be found in almost every country; they are just called jalapeño, Grand Canyon, Taj Mahal, Ronaldo, Michelangelo, the Dead Sea or the porcelain of Meissen.

Before explaining why the dance-house is so special, let’s have a short overview of its history for the sake of those not familiar with this unique phenomenon.

The first dance-house was organized in Budapest on 6 May 1972 in the banquet hall of the Book Club on Liszt Ferenc Square, with the contribution of four folk dance ensembles and some professional ethnographers. It might look a rather meager result at first sight, given the multiple layers of our folk culture which were refined during centuries. Yet, it needs to be noted that all this could have not happened without the preceding almost one hundred years: from the first phonograph-recorded folk songs by Béla Vikár (1896), through the world famous oeuvres of Bartók and Kodály, the Gyöngyös Bokréta (Bouquet of Pearls; see here) movement in the 1930’s and 1940’s, to the folk dance research by György Martin and his colleagues. Finally, in the beginning of the 70s, a group of urban youth had the chance to participate in a so-called dance-house in Sic (Romania) and marvel at the special atmosphere of an authentic live music dancing party that is based on improvisation, yet strictly regulated. Wishing to share this experience with their friends, these young men organized the first dance-houses. Having been private events for political reasons at first, dance-houses opened to the public a year later. Since then, anyone could join the dance-houses in Budapest and, within a few years, all over the country. After a decade, the first National Dance-house Festival and Fair was organized (1982) as the parade of folk music, folk dance and handicraft. In order to maintain the high standards and an adequately wide repertory, folk music and dance research increased. Ever since the political changes in 1989, even the most remote villages in the Carpathian Basin can offer the chance to meet elderly residents who did not grow up under the effects of globalization. Folk dance groups boomed, its members spreading in more and more regions. So much so that, by now, dance styles are not only distinguished by regions but by villages or even by their authentic performers.

Folk music education got a huge impetus as well, since dance-houses needed musicians and folk music bands who were able to play the music of several regions all night long. Nowadays, folk music and dance can be learned from elementary school to university level. Dozens of folk music camps offer the possibility to be immersed in the music, handicraft heritage and dances of specific regions (according to the webpage of dance-house Guild, there is a selection of about 60 Hungarian folk art camps available in 2013.) In due course, various institutions and organizations were created all over the country in association to the dance-house movement (e.g. Folk Dance Resource Centre, 1981; Union of Hungarian Folk Art Associations, 1985; “Heritage” Children’s Folk Art Association, 1990). In 2001, the Hungarian Heritage House was founded as the background institution of the Hungarian Ministry of Culture. The community building potential of dance-houses is well proven by the fact that today different generations gather in pubs and cultural centers where Hungarian dance-houses are regularly held, not just in Budapest, but all over Hungary. Moreover, dance-houses are held all over the Carpathian Basin as well as in Japan, USA, Australia, or England.

Before the movement is stigmatized as nationalist, it has to be noted that other ethnic groups living in  Hungary (e.g. Southern Slavs, Greeks, Bulgarians) soon took over this appealing method and started to organize their own dance-houses. Hungarian dance-houses, on the other hand, feature the Hungarian verbunk of Szatmár region, but also ethnic Romanian dances from Méhkerék, Southeastern Hungary, the csángó round dances from Moldova, or Gypsy dances from Nagyecsed.

The dance-house and the dance-house-method built on it – the method of applying rural heritage in the 21^th century society – has been a success; other countries have taken over this practice of Hungarian culture and it also served as a model for the Slovak dance-house movement. The Hungarian dance-house method is part of the UNESCO Register of Best Safeguarding Practices of Intangible Cultural Heritage, thus serving as a role model for other nations to preserve their own cultural heritage in a modern world.

Photo: Hungarian heritage House

And what is a dance-house after all? Dance-house is a cultural space where professionals and beginners, older and younger alike have the chance to dance authentic dances to live folk music and to party together in the way of their ancestors, varying steps which were refined from generation to generation, evolved in a strictly regulated folk culture but always shaped to the individual. Those who don’t know these dances should not be afraid as, in a real dance-house, a dance teacher can be found teaching the steps for beginners so that in a short time they will be able to form their own dance from these steps.

Nowadays, when anywhere in the world children are watching the same animation movies, teenagers are adoring the same pop stars, listening to the same hits, young (and less young) women are searching for inspiration in the same fashion magazines and considering the same top models as their ideals, peolpe are reading the same books and watching the same films, it is an especially great achievement that there are some places where youth in jeans are having fun to their own music and dance with their heart.

I wish that if you come to Hungary you can take this experience and feeling home with you!

Angéla Hont works at the Hungarian Heritage House, a governmental cultural institute founded in 2001 with the purpose of cultivating and promoting the folk tradition of the Carpathian Basin. As Head of Marketing and Sales, she is in charge of establishing institutional co-operations, managing a great variety of programmes and marketing activities. She has also assisted in the preparation of press releases, managing public relations, and developing programme policies for Hungarian State Folk Ensemble, as well as the auxiliary activities of the Theatre. She is the Founder and Secretary of the Association of the Hungarian Heritage House’s Circle of Friends. She holds a Master’s degree in International Studies with a diplomacy major from the Corvinus University of Budapest (formerly known as the Budapest University of Economy) and a Master’s degree in Ethnography from the Eötvös Lorand University. At the age of 6, she started dancing in Bihari János Folk Dance Ensemble, one of the highest-ranking non-professional folk dance groups of Hungary.

A midcrisis night´s dream?

I like the word ‘campaign’, it transmits to me the feeling of an ongoing effort to promote a cause. I don´t like that much the word ‘manifesto’, I tend to associate it to a momentary action, using big abstract words and doing little after. So, I got very curious the other day when I read a subtitle in a Guardian article explaining that “What Next? campaign aims to promote public investment in the arts by making culture a ‘manifesto issue’” (nothing unusual in this, of course, it´s just my prejudice regarding the two words...).

So the article talked about a movement slowly being created by leaders of arts organisations since 2011. They´ve been meeting every Wednesday (just in London, though) and at the time the article was published, they were getting ready for their first large-scale public event. Their main goals: to get every MP involved in the work of their local arts organisations; to draw in the campaign local councillors, businessmen, school and college directors; to harness the voices of audiences, visitors, members. In the words of Alistair Spalding, artistic director of Sadler's Wells theatre, the long-term aim of What Next? is to "actually get the public to understand the value of culture, so that it becomes a manifesto issue… One of the primary aims, which the arts hasn't yet achieved, is to get the public on our side."

I saw a plan here. One that took time to build, but people (arts leaders) worked on it consistently and with a purpose. I am very interested to see how they are now going to go about meeting their goals, one of which particularly cought my attention: “to harness the voices of audiences, visitors, members”. At a time when the British government is once again aiming to pursue culture´s instrumental values (has any government ever given more money to culture because of its – proven - economic benefits?), the What Next? campaign wants to get people on their side, to harness their voices. But, there´s one issue for me here: What are the people expected to talk about? What is the value of culture the campaigners want to ‘get the public to understand’?

John Holden, in his essay Cultural value and the crisis of legitimacy, puts the essence of all this in just a few words: “The answer to the question ‘why fund culture?’ should be ‘because the public wants it’”. Are we ever going to reach this point? Maybe, if cultural professionals started listening (instead of trying to make people understand) and then got involved in a real debate, concentrating on issues that are important for both sides and speaking a language everyone understands. Most people do appreciate a form of cultural expression and they know why it is important in their lives, they know why they value it, they know why they couldn´t live without it. They also know what makes them feel uncomfortable, what is the kind of attitude that makes them feel excluded or unwelcome, what is not for them, for one reason or another.  So, let´s ask them, instead of trying to impose our views, make them understand or tell them what we think is good for them. Let´s listen and then share with them our views on why and how we think our offer meets their needs. Let´s identify our common ground, work together, campaign for something that we all value.

This makes me, inevitably, think of Portugal. In the last two or three years the cultural sector saw the emergence of a couple of so-called movements, more than one manifestos - the usual big and abstract words -, but no ‘aftermath’. There was no careful building of a campaign, no specific goals were either announced or pursued, no consistent and permanent action undertaken. What we share in public is our frustration or fury for losing public funds; our amazement at the fact that people are not coming to see our top quality performance (“don´t they get it?”); our conviction that they don´t care about culture (or rather the ’right’ culture). Is this a way of making friends...? Is this the way of establishing common ground?

Composer António Pinho Vargas wrote on Facebook one of this days (the post was re-published here) that he never uses the word ‘sustainability’ and he is obliged to hear and read it almost every day. I like to read him and I don´t disagree with the general point of his post. I don´t share his feelings and thoughts, though, regarding the word ‘sustainability’, probably because I don´t understand it the way he does: that everything has to pay for itself. And he was questioning: “Can culture be suatainable?”.

This is not what sustainability means when it comes to the cultural sector. Culture alone will never pay for itself, because it´s not a product that becomes more profitable with time (we need the same number of musicians as in the 19^th century to perform Mahler´s symphonies; a concert hall has a specific number of seats and doesn´t grow in order to sell more tickets; etc., etc.). Costs of production and performance keep growing in the cultural sector, while we need to keep the price of tickets at affordable levels. So, our efforts to be sustainable mean that we need to try and fill the always growing gap between expenditure and income (and to depend on one income source is not a good idea, it never was).

This effort has got everything to do with people, the relationship we establish and nurture with society. Sustainability is not about money in the first place; it´s about people. In order to be able to say one day that culture must be funded “because the public wants it”, we still need to work a lot on this relationship. First we need to listen and better understand what people value in their diverse cultural participations.  Following this, our attitude, choices, priorities, the way we speak should unequivocally transmit our wish and will to include them. Our mission should be clear to all, our plans transparent, our choices understandable. And we should be accountable for our actions. This relationship should be about sharing, not imposing. This relationship can only exist because of something we all value.

Still on this blog:

Ministry of Culture: Which culture? Whose culture?

We are for people. Or... are we?

So, what´s the plan?
On public value

 

Guest post: "A question of value", by Rebecca Lamoin (Australia)

More readings:
John Holden, Capturing cultural value
John Holden, Culture and Class

Guest post: "One can´t make omelets without breaking eggs - Regarding the project Temporary Occupations", by Elisa Santos (Maputo - Mindelo - Lisbon)

I enjoyed very much listening to Elisa Santos talking about the Temporary Occupations. Projects like this one, which bring people together around an idea, which look for new ways, which make things happen ‘despite’, they always draw my attention, they transmit enthusiasm to me, they remind me that a lot, so much indeed, is possible when people want to. But there is a limit and Elisa is determined to remind us of it. There is a limit that the will to do should not surpass; because we have a responsibility and because we owe respect, to the works, to the artists and to the audiences. mv 

On Jaimito´s Facebook, 24th of July Av., Maputo, 2011. A citizen is leaving a comment on artist Azagaia´s installation.  (Photo: Ocupações Temporárias)

It is a fallacy, one frequently used in these times of scarce resources, to assume that it is possible to do without means, crossdressing the argument with epithets of innovation and entrepreneurship. The whole exaltation, more or less naive, more or less politcally adjusted, that it is this “magic” that will save us, is a serious contribution towards disinformation, decapitalization and the implementation of a strategy of mediocrity, in any field. This is my firm conviction. And it is equally firm with regards to any field, but even more in what concerns the artistic and cultural field in particular.  

In 2010 I challenged a group of six Mozambican artists to make an exhibition in different molds than the ones they were used to and as an answer to a pressing issue in the city of Maputo which they themselves were proclaiming: the suffocation felt by artists, caused by the lack of spaces of presentation (the existing ones have a closed and repetitive programming) and of audiences (equally closed and repetitive). This suffocation was not related to the quantity of woks produced, but to the incentives for creation, since the spaces for critique, the opportunities for discussion, for the exchange and contact with new languages, tecniques and issues seemed to bypass the circuit of presentation of the capital of Mozambique.

Meeting with artists for the 2010 edition. (Photo: Ocupações Temporárias)

To make an exhibition, or rather six exhibitions, in two months, with a coordination/production totally unknown to the local agents and possible funders, with a group of artists doing a number of other things that would guarantee their living and without an institution formally promoting it, can it be considered venture without means? It may seem like it, but it´s not. The first “version” of Temporary Occupations  - this is the project name – was discussed in meetings on a esplanade, was produced on coffee shop tables and using free public Wi-Fi; its opening date was set to coincide with the Jo’burg Art Fair, in the (perhaps naive) hope that curators, commissioners, buyers, collectors that would attend the event might become interested in Maputo, just around the corner; Facebook and a blog were the main means of promotion and communication. These were the means available. The artists themselves put their own means at the disposal of the project. The first Occupations had a financial support of 3.000USD. In our final report we accounted for the pro bono contributions (production, design and translation, for example), but we were never able to account for all the means that were made available in order to make the Occupations happen.

In 2011 we wanted to risk again. We thought that it would be easier to raise funds, because we had a file that proved our seriousness and transparency in managing the project, the involvement of the participants and the sustainability of the idea, which did not have as a base a fixed, heavy and expensive structure estructure and that, above all, there was a need, that is, it was not a commitment imposed by a calendar, but an action justified in the city´s artistic and cultural context. All arguments were acknowledged, we were praised and pointed out as an interesting case – both in what concerns the essence of the project and its management -, nevertheless, the financial resources, in particular the funds for international cooperation, are aimed at reinforcing institutions and civil society, where we did not fit because we were not a legal entity, that is, the project was not based on a formal organization, did not correspond with the calendars of funding allocations, did not guarantee its existence for the next year. Even though, we persisted and the subject chosen for the Temporary Occupations 20.11 was Precariousness.  The opening took place on the 11^th of September and we had the support of Goethe Institut in Maputo and the Swiss Embassy, in a total of €2000.

View of artist Paulo Kapela´s installation in the streets of Maputo, 2012. (Photo: Ocupações Temporárias)

The conditions for this version of the Occupations were even harder than the previous year´s, nevertheless, it mobilized the artists of 2010 and those of 2011, and once again friends, acquaintances, strangers who had seen us the year before and, once more, there was a lot of investment (also financial) on behalf of those involved. The result was very positive, but, as an international commissioner said, it had reached the limit of what was possible, of what was acceptable. Because there is a limit for the dignity (of the works, of the artists, of the audiences) assessed according to the conditions of presentation, of production and enjoyment of an exhibition.  

In 2012, the Temporary Occupations, under the theme of Foreigners, finally had what one might call “the means”, thanks to the exclusive funding of the Calouste Gulbenkian Foundation, which decided to support the exhibition in Maputo and to propose and promote it in two more countries (Cape Vert and Angola) and also to schedule in 2013, in its head office in Lisbon, a documental exhibition of the whole process. Without these resources, without this support, the Occupations in Maputo wouldn´t have happened, not in the molds they did actually happen, not even in the molds of previous editions. It wouldn´t have been possible to insist on askingalways  for the support of the same people just to prove that we have the capacity to make things happen, when this capacity, although acknowledged in theory, did not get in return the support of those institutions which aim to support this kind of initiatives. Without these means, the Occupations would have terninated in 2011.

All the editions fulfilled the initial objectives: to attract the attention of different audiences that would be confronted with the works in the public space; to confront the artists with new spaces. Although it is not possible to count the number of visitors, the works have undeniably been seen by thousands if people. Another, more specific, audience - that of cultural agents, artists and arts students – also saw the Occupations and there was a lot of conversation, discussions and stands regarding the initiative. To prove this, one may consider the interest expressed regarding the dates and themes of the following edition, the ways to apply, as well as the invitations to talk or write about this initiative.

Although the Temporary Occupations were seen, since their first edition, at distance, from a number of programmers, critics, curators, gallery owners and other artists, we have not managed to gain international notoriety, to draw the attention of new markets, namely the south african one, to give national visibility to the production of contemporary art; these were very big challenges that we wouldn´t be able to reach when the big majority of promotional materials was not translated, there were no catalogues of all the editions, there was not a good technical support or good images of the works, there was not a website or a good archive, allowing to access the information and the documentation of the different exhibitions.

Installation by artist Bento Oliveira at the Porto Grande airport on S.Vicente island, Cape Vert, 2012. (Photo: Ocupações Temporárias)

The great importance of the support received for 2012 and 2013 is exactly the fact that it made available financial and other resources, that made the exhibitions and other actions possible in order to internationalize the artists and to give visibility to a new production stemming from the emergence of an artistic community with new practices, different discourses and other proposals of intervention.  

As I stated in the beginning, the praise of the lack of resources as a potential instigator of creation and production, is false, and it may even become dangerous in what concerns the quality and independence of what is being produced.  The Temporary Occupations would be different with more means, with other menas, but would have never existed, as nothing exists, without means.

The exhibition Temporary Occupations – Documents may be seen at the Gulbenkian Foundation in Lisbon until May 26. Admission is free.

Elisa Santos was an independent cultural producer until 2002, when she took the post of Director of Production at the Teatro do Campo Alegre in Oporto. She worked in projects of cooperation and development in Angola and Mozambique between 2003 and 2012. She is a consultor in the fields of volunteering and cooperation, maintaining her activity as producer in the cultural field.

Safety net(working)

Photo taken from My Firefighter Nation.

When in 2006 I started working in the performing arts field, and as this was a whole new world for me, one of the first things I did, apart from ordering new books, was to look for associations, professional groups, conferences and seminars that would allow me to become better and faster integrated, meet other professionals, find support, ask questions, exchange ideas, acquire new skills. But, apart from a couple of american associations, one of which was organizing an annual world conference on management, I didn´t find anything that could be of help.

I was coming from a very much organized and connected world in that sense, that of museums, where one can find all sorts of models: international associations, national committees, regional and local networks, networks by subject (management, conservation, education, communications, access, etc.); there is also a number of conferences, meetings, seminars, workshops, training courses, where one can get the necessary skills, meet other professionals, extensively share information, get support, build projects, put other people in touch. 

I remember how scary and lonely it felt (apart from very exciting...) when I started working for Lisbon´s São Luiz Municipal Theatre. It was thanks to the help and support of the manager, Rui Catarino, that I managed to find my way. Even though, I did feel the lack of a more extensive and organized professional network - that sense of community, of family, with common concerns and goals - that one finds himself in when entering the museum profession.

Even though, here in Lisbon, those of us working in Communications in different performing arts venues formed a couple of years ago an informal discussion group, called Rehearsal Room. The functioning of the group was rather simple: we would meet once a month, for two hours, in order to discuss a previously chosen subject and many times we would invite a special guest, someone with specific knowledge and experience on the subject to be discussed. Once we exhausted the “big and urgent issues”, our meetings, a bit less regular, served as a get-together, a space and time where we could discuss our concerns and difficulties with colleagues that knew exactly what we thought and felt, that could give advice, share information or simply listen...

I remember once when the subject of the month was publicity. Our guest was a specialist in this field. She was surprised to see that, unlike what happens in other sectors (where competition means that almost everythings is a top secret, unthinkable of sharing with anyone else), we were there mainly to share information, to debate and to help each other. And this is actually one of the specificities of the cultural sector, both in what concernsmuseums and the performing arts. I don´t mean to say that we are not competing with each other, we do. But there is so much more competition for all of us from outside the field, that, in what concerns our primary audiences (and by “primary” I mean those people who usually attend cultural events, who are interested and who like to be informed), we become stronger when we share information and develop common strategies rather than turning our backs to each other.

I strongly believe in networks and I´ve already mentioned some of the reasons why: they can help us be better professionals by providing a (both real and virtual) space of encounter, a space for asking questions, exchanging ideas, acquiring new skills, getting support. This is what they have always meant to me. But I now see more benefits in them.

First of all, they can be the right-scale platform for the younger to express themselves. More than once lately I heard younger colleagues talk about their reticence or discomfort in expressing their views or even asking questions in the big forums (like conferences and seminars) where the “established” and respected specialists in our field are taking part. I´d say it´s natural. Smaller specialist networks and working groups can be just the right size for them to feel more at ease in order to informally discuss their concerns and ideas. And we do need those ideas.

They can also be the most appropriate means for people who share a specific mentality and feel strong about a number of issues, to push their case forward, independent of formal and rigid hierarchies or, I dare say, despite them. Networking means stronger and more decisive lobbying, no matter where individuals stand in a given hierarchical pyramid, in a given structure. Networking means stronger collective leadership.

In life, there are a number of things we simply cannot do alone. Either because we´re not strong enough; or because we haven´t got enough preparation, knowledge, experience or self-confidence; or because our voice is not strong enough. Professional networks may be the cannon that ejects us high and far; and they´re undoubtedly our safety net. This is why I believe that the performing arts have got a lot to learn with museums, and not just in Portugal. Management, communications, education, access are all areas that need to be better developed in order to promote critical thinking and good practices, support newcomers in the field, create the conditions for greater professionalism in areas which are all technical and build a firmer discourse.   

Guest post: "Bombay gets the Blues", by Jay Shah (India)

A blues festival in Bombay? “But why?”, one might think. Or maybe... “Why not?”.  The fact that the festival is organized by the Mahindra Group, though, with my friend and colleague Jay Shah being the driving force behind it, explains that this is not a decision that came about by chance. It´s part of a global company´s strategy, as it relates to more than 100 nationalities of customers and employees, to promote art and to enable conversations across culures. mv

Walter Trout at the Mahindra Blues Festival 2013, Mumbai, India (Photo: Ritam Banerjee)

Mehboob Studios, the iconic Bollywood studios in the heart of Bombay (now known as Mumbai) have been coming alive with the best Blues talent the world has to offer during the Mahindra Blues Festival (MBF) each year for the past three years. Buddy Guy and Taj Mahal were here, so were Robert Randolph, Poppa Chubby, Shemekia Copeland, Ana Popovich, Jimmy Thackery and many more. The Best of Blues, in an unusual venue, in an unusual city, you may surmise.

The MBF is a celebration of an art form in a festival far away from the Mississippi Delta, its place of origin.  In a culture so seemingly different, astounding commonalities have emerged. Bombay is a tough city – but a city of dreamers. Struggle and strife is as abundant as triumph and victories. There may not be a better connect between this genre of music with any city in the world as there is with Bombay. Our audacious vision is to create the biggest destination festival for the Blues outside of the United States. We would like to make Bombay to the Blues what Montreaux is to Jazz.

In the absence of a practice of individual giving to the arts and the preoccupation of the government with greater compulsions of providing basic living essentials to the masses, art and culture have seldom been supported in India. Sporadic acts of benevolence for a particular artist or an art event do occur but this lacks a holistic long term plan or vision. We are convinced that corporate houses must help bridge the gap.

The Mahindra Group, is a USD 15.9 billion federation of companies spanning international geographies and straddling businesses as diverse as automobile and tractor manufacturing to retail finance and holiday resorts. We engage with over a 100 nationalities of customers and employees present in all continents except the Antarctic. As a global company we believe we are in a unique position to enable conversations across cultures and have taken a long term view of promoting art and culture as an  enabler of admiration of our brand. Moreover, our cultural outreach activities are directly linked to business strategy, hence are sustainable. They help create shared value between our brand and our stakeholders, securing a positive mind space for our brand.

For greater success in exploring alternate funding sources, Art institutions may wish to closely analyze business plans of specific companies and help them identify ways in which they can derive long term advantage by supporting a particular art form. If one sees a strategic connect and business benefit, funds will flow and art will thrive.

Dana Fuchs at the Mahindra Blues Festival 2013, Mumbai, India (Photo: Ritam Banerjee)

And what strategic connect does the Blues have to our business you may wonder? Mahindra is the largest manufacturer of tractors in the world. The hobby farmers of the Mississippi Delta are our most discerning customers in the United States. They have begun to relate to us on a different plane. We are not just another foreign company trying to sell them a product. They view us as a brand that takes pride in their heritage, celebrates their culture and helps propagate it in distant lands. Our market share has risen and our customer satisfaction levels are amongst the highest. Our products are of course the best one can buy. But our culture connect has significantly boosted our brand’s likability, there is no doubt.

The most endearing by-product of this festival has been the enthusiasm in which the Bombay audiences have adopted it. The connect they feel with the music is intense. The audience comprises of citizens from all walks of life, age brackets and demographics. As Anand Mahindra, Chairman & Managing Director of the Mahindra Group observes, over the years, this festival has become a movement and has garnered a cult like following. The audiences have become believers, a tribe of followers.

I invite you to watch glimpses of the Mahindra Blues Festival and hear the audience testimonies:

Jay Shah has been with the Mahindra Group for the past 15 years doing a variety of assignments. His current charge is to innovatively use art and culture to connect with Mahindra’s stakeholders throughout the world. He oversees the Mahindra Excellence in Theatre Awards and the Mahindra Blues Festival and leads internal programs such as the Global Recruit Program, Mahindra Rise Awards and Mahindra Has Talent. He is an International Fellow at the Kennedy Center, Washington DC. 

Guest post: "Orchestras in trouble: a think-piece", by Simon Fairclough (UK)

It´s a great pleasure to hear Simon Fairclough talking passionately both about classical music and his job. Simon is an intelligent and committed young professional who wants to make sure that more and more people are able to discover and enjoy the pleasures of classical music. In this post, his analyses the troubles orchestras all over the world are facing nowadays and points out causes and possible ways forward. Among them, the need to find new ways to engage with audiences. mv

Bach´s St. Matthew Passion re-imagined for younger audiences with the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment and  a virtual choir. (Photo: Vocal Futures)

Orchestras are in trouble.  The recent headlines say it all: America’s cash-strapped orchestras: Lamentoso; Melbourne scrambles to save Orchestra Victoria from the pit of despair; Tragedy strikes foremost South African orchestra.  

News from the USA has been particularly bleak.  Lockouts and strikes have hit orchestras from sea to shining sea, and in 2009 the average American symphony’s deficit was $697,000.  When the mighty Philadelphia Orchestra filed for bankruptcy, it became clear that no orchestra was too big or excellent to fail.

But this is by no means a purely American problem.  The Spanish Radio Television Symphony recently unveiled plans to reduce its musicians’ contracts by a third.  In South Africa, the Johannesburg Philharmonic closed down in November, silenced by its debts.  In the UK, the Guildford Philharmonic gave its farewell concert last month after seven decades on stage.  Even in Germany, that most generous state patron of the arts, two radio symphony orchestras are to merge to save money.  

It would be tempting to assume that orchestral music is a dying art-form.  But for every tale of crisis there’s another which reminds us of its broad and continuing appeal.  In 2011 the YouTube Symphony Orchestra performed for 33 million people online — one of Google’s biggest-ever live streaming events.  Venezuela’s El Sistema has built up a cult following worldwide.  For two months every summer crowds pack London’s Royal Albert Hall to hear orchestras performing at the Proms: 300,000 people attended last year.  My own orchestra, the Academy of Ancient Music, thrilled millions when it performed music by Handel at Queen Elizabeth II’s diamond jubilee celebrations last summer.

Why, then, are so many orchestras in crisis?  Four key factors are at play:

1. The financial crisis

The financial crisis has had a particular impact on orchestras owing to their reliance on contributed income.  Earned revenue from ticket sales is not sufficient to cover most orchestras’ costs, and the gap which results — in many cases 50% or more of total turnover — needs to be bridged with a combination of state subsidy, endowment drawdowns and donations from private individuals, companies and foundations.  At this time of economic hardship, it is harder to secure such funding.

2. The ‘cost curse’

It would be wrong however to assume that orchestras’ financial difficulties are purely cyclical.  Over the long term, the gap between earned income and expenditure is growing. The principal reason for this is an economic phenomenon known as the ‘cost curse’.  While in most industries productivity rises over time, a performance of Beethoven’s Eroica takes exactly the same number of orchestral musicians the same amount of time today as it did two centuries ago. Because the wages of orchestral workers, whose productivity has not increased, have risen over time in line with those of other workers, the relative cost of a performance is far greater today than it was then.  There are only two ways to confront the cost curse: cut expenditure year after year or increase income. The favoured approach has traditionally been to attract higher levels of contributed income, but for some time orchestras have been struggling to do so: even in 2005, before the financial crisis, the average American orchestra had an annual deficit of $193,000.

The Academy of Ancient Music was cheered by millions at Queen Elizabeth II´s diamond jubilee pageant. (Photo: Hilary Everett)

3. The challenge of relevance

One reason why this is the case — and perhaps the most intractable reason why so many orchestras are in crisis — is that they have sustained a long-term of loss of relevance to the contemporary world.  The success of El Sistema and the YouTube Symphony demonstrate that the music itself has universal appeal, but traditional concerts present it in arcane, nineteenth-century packaging.  The audience sits in a darkened hush.  Musicians wear ‘white tie and tails’ — an antique dress code dispensed with even by Britain’s royal family almost a century ago. Photography is frequently banned; unfriendly notices instruct audience members not to cough; and unwritten rules exist about when to clap.  The experience seems esoteric and off-putting to many. As audiences have shrunk and aged it has become more difficult to sell tickets, but also to persuade new generations of philanthropists and public sector decision-makers that orchestras remain worthy of the significant subsidy they require.

4. Changing media consumption patterns

A fourth challenge has recently emerged: the demise of the traditional record industry (historically a primary marketing partner for many orchestras), and the associated rise of internet technology.  Classical album sales fell 20.5% between 2011 and 2012.  Recordings, which traditionally generated money as well as fame for orchestras, now require heavy subsidy.  Many fewer are being made. Underlying demand for recorded orchestral content has not however waned (as we have seen, 33 million people logged on to hear the YouTube Symphony in concert).  People simply expect to consume it in new ways.   Most orchestras are still in the early stages of understanding these profound shifts in media consumption patterns — and they are still further from finding ways to monetise new distribution channels.  But if they are to keep their content available in the twenty-first century, they must emulate innovations in the broader entertainment industry.

Looking ahead

Those who worry for the future of orchestral music can take some comfort from the fact that their concerns are not new.  As far back as 1903 the New York Times reported that ‘The orchestral season has been financially a bad one all over the country… there is always a deficit, which public-spirited guarantors are called upon to pay’.  From that day to this, orchestras have innovated to survive, and many are continuing to do so today.  

For three months this summer, the Academy of Ancient Music will take up residence at London’s National Gallery.  Our performances on the hour, every hour will bring paintings in the Vermeer and Music exhibition to life for tens of thousands of visitors.  We’re also experimenting online: over 1.5 million people streamed tracks through our AAMplayer last year.  Our colleagues at the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment recently worked with Vocal Futures on a stunning, multi-media re-imagining of Bach’s St Matthew Passion, aiming to attract younger audiences.  The River Oaks Chamber Orchestra promises a ‘multi-sensory experience’: musicians mingle informally with audience members; a childcare programme runs alongside its 5pm family concerts; and regular ‘music tastings’ enable audience members to enjoy music while tasting wine.  The Philharmonia Orchestra’s re-rite project  enables members of the public to ‘conduct, play and step inside the orchestra’ through sophisticated audio and video projections, and the orchestra recently launched an innovative iPad app.  

The Philharmonia Orchestra´s new iPad app. (Photo: TouchPress)

Nobody has yet found all the answers.  But these and other innovators are making four important realisations:

· Artistic excellence remains a pre-requisite, but it is not enough;

· By distancing the music from its nineteenth-century packaging, orchestras can tap into the broader public interest which inspired 33 million to log on for the YouTube Symphony performance;

· Orchestras which innovate with new media stand the best chance of reaching a mass market and generating profile for themselves and their artists in the post-record industry world;

· The right combination of artistic excellence, contemporary relevance and profile can help orchestras address their financial challenges by driving higher ticket income and inspiring greater levels of support from public and private funders alike.

Simon Fairclough is Head of Fundraising at the Academy of Ancient Music. He has achieved a five-fold increase in the orchestra’s fundraised income in five years, and has secured regular Arts Council support for the first time in its history.  Since 2005 he has also been chairman of the extra-curricular music programme at Cambridge University, where he has doubled the number of ensembles supported, appointed Sir Roger Norrington as Principal Guest Conductor, and transformed the artistic programme through collaborations with the likes of Sir Richard Armstrong, Sir Colin Davis, Sir Mark Elder, Sir Peter Maxwell Davies, Libor Pesek and Bryn Terfel.  He is an International Fellow at the Kennedy Center in Washington, DC.

Say "click"!

When I visited the Museum of Vienna a few weeks ago, what mostly caught my attention was Unter 10, a temporary exhibition of objects from the museum collection that measured under 10 centimetres. I thought it was an original subject for a city museum exhibition. When I arrived at the exhibition entrance, I was very pleased to read the well-written introductory text, to contemplate the excellent graphic design and also a visually impressive panel with rows of hanging magnifying glasses, waiting to be picked up by visitors in order to explore the miniatures exhibition.

I asked two guards near the entrance if I could take a photo of the panels. They looked at each other not really knowing what to answer. The younger one said “I guess so, why not. But again... I am new around here.” The other guard went inside to ask a colleague of his and came back with the verdict: ‘no’. Visitors could not take photos of the exhibition, but, if I wished, I could buy the catalogue... I explained that I didn´t want photos of objects, I just wanted a photo of the entrance panels for my classes. They seemed to feel sorry, but... ‘no’. The next day I wrote to the museum director. I explained what had happened, I said it was a pity the museum wouldn´t allow visitors to take photos and I asked if they could send me a photo of the entrance panels from the museum archive to use for my classes. Not even that, a question of copyright... (?)

It´s a great thing to be able to take photos in museums. In my particular case, because  I am always looking for (good and bad) examples to illustrate my classes. I suppose that many more people take photos for professional reasons (and no, bying the catalogue is not an answer to our needs...). In most museums I visited in the last years, photography was allowed and it was a big relief. I immediately felt more at ease. In some cases, though, when I explained I wanted the photos for my classes, I first had to sign a paper that I wouldn´t use them for commercials purposes. In other cases, museum staff couldn´t make up their minds, asked me to wait until they could talk to someone else and by the time I was leaving the museum thay hadn´t had an answer for me yet...

But I also like to see other visitors taking photos in museums: of a famous work of art, of a favourite work of art, of an exhibit that particularly drew their attention or touched them in a special way or raised their curiosity or will be a reminder of their experience (and no, buying postcards is not the same thing...).

When discussing photography in museum, It´s Time We Met immediately comes to mind: the brilliant initiative of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where photos taken by visitors in the museum enter a competition and are then selected for the museum´s promotional materials. What a great way to engage visitors, to share their enthusiasm, to promote the museum itself (at no cost...). Here in Portugal, our colleague Inês Fialho Brandão also organized a competition on Flickr in 2010, called Museus de Portas Abertas (Museums with Open Doors) for the Municipal Museums of Cascais. Following the success of the initiative, the Municipality decided to lift the ban on museum photography. They don´t seem to have regretted it... At the same time, the Powerhouse Museum shows to be quite understanding with the visitors´ needs to take photos, for personal or professional reasons, and actually encourages them to share them with the museum... (see here) It´s a matter of attitude.

Some museums around the world adapted quickly to the new realities created by digital technology and social media in the way people of all ages experience museum visits. Others are now in the process of adapting, feeling the need to keep up and engage in new ways with their visitors. Other museums stubbornly go against the tide and in some cases, if we ask ‘why’, the museum guards are not able to explain anymore. It seems it´s because it has always been like this and nobody has told them otherwise. One of the funniest moments for me lately was at the National Museum of Ukrainian Art, where at the entrance of each room there was a clear sign (the usual icon of the camera) that photography was not allowed. So, a young visitor was taking photos of every painting with his cell phone and the guards looked at him but didn´t interfere... Does this mean, cameras no way, cell phones OK? I din´t dare to take my camera out...

The case that has intrigued me the most in what concerns photography in museums is that of France. On the one hand, because professionals in the field had actually to address the Ministry of Culture and propose a working group to reflect on this issue (read here and here). I was surprised that there was a need for all that... On the other hand, the rather fundamentalist attitude of Musée d´Orsay – which since 2010 prohibits photography both of objects and the museum building itself - probably explains why things had to be discussed at the highest level. The prohibition at the Musée d´Orsay is officially justified by the fact that guards were finding it hard to control the use of flash, because visitors taking photos were slowing down the pace of everyone else and because there was a danger for the art works. To all this, the President of the Museum, Guy Cogeval, added another – highly questionable – reason: the fact that visitors taking photos would not actually look at the works of art and would not allow others to do so either. “My God”, one may read in a interview published in an exhibition catalogue, “we are going back to a time of barbarity.” (read here).

Photo taken 'unlawfully' by the author at the Musée d´Orsay. Couldn´t resist...

Photography in museums may actually pose some practical problems, but many museums (and even the visitors themselves) seem to have found ways to solve them. It may also raise issues of copyright in what concerns contemporary art - although it´s quite funny to see sometimes that one work of art may not be photographed in one museum, but may be in another... But the fact is that allowing photos has brought a number of benefits both for the museum-visitor relationship and, eventually, for the promotion of the museum itself, through the advertising channel that has always worked best: word-of-mouth. I definitely don´t see an act of barbarity in it. I see people who wish to register an experience (hopefully, a good one), to share it with others. The way one lives this experience may have nothing to do with what the curator had idealised, but that has always been the case in museums, hasn´t it?

Readings

Visiteurs Photographes au Musée, edited by Serge Chaumier, Anne Krebs et Mélanie Roustan, was published in February and brings together a number of very interesting essays grouped in three parts: I. Interdire / autoriser. Le juridique au centre de la controverse?; II. Du côté des visiteurs. Pratiques photographiques et usages des photographies; III. La photographie comme instrument des politiques des publics. Read the presentation of the book by Mélanie Roustan here.

Further readings

La photo au musée, ou l’appropriation

Musées: interdit de photographier

Le musée d’Orsay interdit les photos

Museum photo policies should be as open as possible

Orsay Commons, an interview with Julien Dorra (also in portuguese in Reprograme, p.130)