Bruce Whitacre

While corporate philanthropy has long ago shifted from community charity to strategic, carefully designed programs, a fundamental question of authenticity can undermine the soundest strategies.

If the association between a company and a cause, or the social impact of the company's action does not resonate with consumers and other stakeholders, what is the point of the best-laid plans?

This question was examined at a recent panel convened by Barron's and the Luxury Marketing Council, a collaborative organization of leading brands. Discussion was led by journalist and author Richard C. Morais, editor of Barron's Penta, a quarterly magazine and website serving wealthy families. In this context, Morais addressed the inherent contradiction facing luxury brands and philanthropy -- high end products are often marketed as expressions and rewards for one's self, and this can create dissonance for philanthropic projects focused on others. Customers of these brands are also often philanthropists themselves and they are attuned to these inconsistencies.

As Page Snow, Chief Philanthropic Officer at Foundation Source, illustrated, "Individuals of wealth are approached constantly for various causes, and their BS detector becomes very finely tuned, especially at higher levels of wealth."

In their acceptance speeches at the 2016 BCA 10 Awards, twelve industry leaders spoke about what being honored at the 2016 BCA 10 means to them and why they encourage and seek out opportunities to bring the arts into their worlds.

"We believe that everyone in this room is art. And when art and the folks in this room come together, we spark innovation; we inspire youth. We celebrate and heal communities. We stimulate economies. We sustain this great nation."

Throughout this Blog Salon, you’ve heard testimony from arts leaders across the country: creatives working in street symphonies and theater companies in LA; administrators building community practices in Florida and Boston; artists and curators invested in equity work from Portland to Washington, DC, and all points in between. By using this Blog Salon as a platform, the ELC is combating the dominant narrative that power in the arts exists only in the hands of a historically white, historically male, historically wealthy minority. We’re collectively organizing our experiences into a larger tapestry to change the story. Another intention: all of this year’s contributors identify as People of Color (POC). By centering experiences of POC who are artists, administrators, and experts, we’re attempting to course-correct decades of exclusion, disenfranchisement, and marginalization our communities have experienced working in the arts. 

This year marked the 15^th anniversary of the Public Art Network (PAN) Year in Review, which annually recognizes outstanding public art projects that represent the most compelling work for the year from across the country. Over the years we have had over a thousand applications. Each year, a jury of up to three art professionals reviewed and selected projects to highlight. This week we are posting blogs directly from those involved in the creation of the projects in PAN Year in Review selected by our three art professionals, Peggy Kendellen (Public Art Program Manager at the Regional Arts & Cultural Council) Laurie Jo Reynolds (artist) and Ernest C. Wong (landscape architecture and urban planning professional) and presented on June 11th at the Americans for the Arts Public Art & Placemaking Preconference in Chicago.

When I finally pivoted into arts administration, inching my way closer toward being a full-time creative, I was a bit surprised to find how much the sector was struggling with issues of diversification. Over time, I suppose I had grown accustomed to an industry that had no issue tackling diversification head-on and I expected the arts, the champion of inclusion, would be the same way. I am fortunate enough to oversee two great projects at ArtsBoston which help to drive the change we desperately need in greater Boston’s arts sector. For the ArtsBoston Audience Lab, diversification (specifically audiences of color) began with a Theory of Change—a blueprint designed in collaboration with the ten participating organizations in the Lab. When organizations state that they want more “diversity” in their audiences, we ask them to think a step further.

As I look to my past to see what my task as an arts leader is for the future, I cannot help but think of cultural equity. Succession planning is creating a series of feeder groups up and down the entire leadership pipeline of an organization. While concern for senior leadership positions is what comes to mind, it is the intentional retention of key staff members and volunteers, coupled with sufficient and professional development, that the sector needs. By reading this week’s Blog Salon, you have witnessed evidence from change makers both seasoned and emerging—artists and administrators working across disciplines and sectors from all across the country. As a whole, these individuals are making waves and laying the foundation for cultural equity in their organizations, their communities, the field, and the nation.

There is generally a perception that the arts are a progressive, forward-thinking sector. The attention to racial equity by many arts and cultural institutions may contribute to this. However, in local, state, and federal arts agencies, we’re often bound to the policies and practices largely created and upheld by white people—and far from progressive. While working in the public sector for much of my arts administration career, I have been complicit in adhering to largely inequitable practices—especially when it comes to grant funding. And while my fellow public sector arts administrators and I get excited by moving the needle—even just a little—to make our policies and practices more equitable, we’re still not addressing the core structures that created these inequities in the first place. We focus our attention on moving the needle within these structures, but hasn’t history shown us that these structures don’t (and won’t) work to get us to a more equitable reality?

I am an artist by training, art historian by education, (former/on-hiatus) arts administrator by chance, creative placemaker by practice, and lifelong supporter of the arts by choice. And while most of my career has been in the arts, I’ve never been employed by an arts organization. Most of my life has also involved the arts. Aside from a failed attempt to be a ballerina when I was five, my childhood was defined by art classes and encouraging teachers. Despite having continuous opportunities to pursue artistic and creative interests, I never thought my hometown of Columbia, South Carolina, was a place to experience a diverse or growing arts and culture sector. I wanted to see more people in the arts who looked like me or had a story similar to mine. I also wanted to see the arts outside of purely arts spaces, to be less confined, and to be more accessible to the greater public. However, I had no idea what my career path in the arts would look like, only that I did not want to be a professional artist, nor work in a traditional museum or gallery after college.

I lived in a blanket of fear and anxiety as an artist for the first decade of my career. I remember when my dance teacher told me I wasn’t good enough to get into a prestigious dance school in South Florida. I auditioned for theater instead to ensure my acceptance. I remember booking a national commercial in college for a rhythmic dance routine. My sound and precision were perfect. They used my sound and one of my castmate’s “looks” for the actual principal. She was ethnically ambiguous, which sells more product. Both of these moments seeded doubt in my abilities to succeed in the industry. I always knew it was important to write a vision. Write it down, make it plain. One day, I looked up at a journal full of ideas—planned out with extravagance—and realized that I had not acted on a single one of them. I was only putting pen to paper while in complete awe at the people around me who were actually making things happen.

I was born and raised in West Philadelphia. Yes … like the song. On the day I was born, my Nigerian pharmacist turned American accountant father, my US-born IRS specialist sometimes saleswoman mother, and my then-teenage and new to the US sister gave me names—a hospital-room nod to traditional Yoruba naming ceremonies. One of my many names, Abiola, roughly indicates a child that brings wealth and honor, and my parents always treated me as though I could. Growing up, I was in and out of braces and the hospital, stood out physically, and was top of the class. Elementary school was rough. Still, I saw every new encounter as a potential friendship and had an insatiable desire to learn and create—which my parents fostered. When I’d say as a child that I wanted to be a writer, dancer, artist, and veterinarian, they’d say “ok.” At school, I was whatever label peers landed on for the day, but in our home, I was a writer, sculptor, dancer, singer, researcher, and more.

According to a December 2018 report from the World Economic Forum, by 2020—next year!—half of the global workforce will be made up of millennials. Despite the growing number of upwardly mobile millennials, young people are often overlooked as candidates for board seats in arts (and other) organizations. Most organizations are hyper aware of creating a well-balanced board, representing increasingly diverse communities. While we continue to actively address (and we must) race and gender diversity, age diversity is rarely considered. Leaving potential young board members out can be detrimental to an arts organization. A young board member brings energy, creativity and a fresh perspective. They often have a greater sense of inclusion. They can act as a peer to a young staff or to young visitors and attendees. Young board members also have a very deep social influence and can use it to promote programming, ideas, and giving. In a small community, like Lynchburg, social chatter can quickly increase attendance and helps to keep our organization top of mind.

I vividly recall my first meeting with Isela Sotelo and Manuel (“Manny”) Prieto, the outgoing and current Executive Directors of LAMusArt. They introduced me to the issues that LAMusArt and other arts organizations face, such as the need for better engagement of Millennials and younger generations, as well as the need to build a more diverse pipeline of board leadership. Traditional board member duties have often been limited to raising large donations; however, the dynamic and evolving nonprofit arts and cultural landscape demands that arts leadership look to their boards for deeper engagement, creative thinking and problem-solving, and fresh ideas in order to grow and thrive into the future. I shared with them the desire and passion that I and other young professionals have to make a more sustained impact on nonprofit organizations, contributing new and innovative ideas and building new leadership skills—goals that many existing one-off volunteering opportunities fail to meet. From that conversation, the idea for our Young Professionals Advisory Board (YPAB) was born. 

The post-graduation years are considered a rite of passage, where emerging artists navigate crushing poverty, unpaid internships, uninformed financial decisions, and rejection in order to emerge as bona fide artists. People use words like sacrifice and bootstraps. You’re expected to work for free in order to demonstrate your work ethic and “make connections” with important people. These connections, we’re told over and over, lead to paid jobs. Just not yet. Let’s look closely at these expectations through the lens of equity, diversity, and inclusion. In a field that is still white and male-dominated despite encouraging signs of change, those who hold privilege (economic, racial, gender, social, etc.) are better positioned to take the unpaid internships, get that one-on-one meeting with the artistic director, or convince the seasoned leader to take them on as an assistant. How can we better prepare aspiring artists from all backgrounds to enter this field?

I firmly believe that leaders happen at every level within an organization, and that the attributes for leadership can be found in entry-level employees just as frequently as they can be found in top-level executives. Working in the arts, we’re fortunate that passionate and dedicated people are drawn to our mission-driven organizations. If an employee demonstrates a connection to the work and a desire to make an impact within the organization, they have all the raw material needed to become a successful leader. Each individual employee will have a different set of natural talents, meaning there is no one-size-fits-all approach to determine what they need for their own growth, but it begins with direct, frequent, and open communication. It’s amazing what a manager can learn by simply asking their employee what they need and how to help empower them to achieve it.

Revolutionary Amilcar Cabral once said, “Tell no lies, claim no easy victories.” As the leader of the Partido Africano para a Independência da Guiné e Cabo Verde (PAIGC), Cabral fought against Portuguese colonial forces in Cape Verde and Guinea Bissau, and had a unique vision of the role of artists and culture bearers in the struggle for liberation and self-determination of his people. His is a quote I continue to carry every day in both my creative practice and as Cultural Affairs Manager for the City of Providence Department of Art, Culture + Tourism. If cultural equity is a human right, then I believe our work in a local arts agency is, at the end of the day, human rights work. And while our work doesn’t have to feel heavy all the time – Emma Goldman told us to dance! – work ensuring publicly supported arts and culture shouldn’t feel easy.

Welcome to the 2019 Emerging Arts Leaders Blog Salon! This year, we have approached a number of emerging leaders in the field to reflect and respond to the theme: “Own your past, shape your future.” You will hear from a number of emerging leaders and change agents in the field who are forging a new path for the arts in America. Along with the theme, we have also asked all our blog salon participants the question, “How is history shaping the future of the arts in your community?” In the coming days you will hear from a number of brilliant emerging leaders who are working to mold and shape the future. This is being done through deliberate, mindful, and creative leadership that is creating discomfort (in a positive way). They are taking what they have been handed, creating dialogue, and forging a path for a stronger tomorrow.

I conducted my first survey of local arts agencies in 1991. It was all paper in those days. We didn’t even ask for fax numbers because too few had one! Over the years we have fielded dozens of local arts agency (LAA) surveys—some were short and easy to fill out and provided useful information, but lacked adequate depth; others were comprehensive and extremely informative, but were too long and hard for respondents to complete. While the paper surveys became online surveys and technology has made distribution more expansive, what remains as pressing as ever is the need for reliable, relevant, and easily accessible information about the LAAs—research that provides early alerts about new trends, drives discourse about how the industry is evolving, and simply allows LAAs to see how they compare to their peers. In 2018, Americans for the Arts implemented a new annual survey to accomplish just this—The Profile of Local Arts Agencies. There are multiple ways you can put the Profile findings to work for you! 

My Feminist mom learned in the working world of the 1970s what it was like to move through patriarchal spaces. Women leaders: those times, they have not fully “a-changed”. You will be belittled, left out. Your appearance is foremost in their minds. Worst of all, other women will cut you down. Confident women: you will be called loud. You are told to moderate your confidence level, called strident. You are not the problem. It’s their expectations that are the problem. In art, we must all be activists. We “fight” not just for funding and support, but also to be included at all planning tables. We should fight to speak for those whose voices may not be in the room—or who are never invited in the first place.