There are, of course, two schools of thought when it comes to the concert experience. Both of these schools happen to be the progeny of the administrators, not the public, which is good reason to dismiss both schools, or drop out I suppose. The first is that a performance of the fine arts is a hallowed and scared experience that demands absolute concentration. Lights are blacked out, seating is cramped so as to prevent snoozing, and a strict code of etiquette whereby coughs are stifled until the pause between movements. Despite the snarky way that I’ve painted this picture, I am a subscriber of this school.

The second school is perhaps more in touch with the human touchy feely side of the concert experience, which, being a Midwesterner, I instinctively avoid. As it is with nearly all pop music today, the concert experience of yester-year was a participatory experience, with the masses communing, in a way, with the music, the performers, and each other. It might be argued that this experience is what drives popularity. It is certainly easier to personally connect with an art form when it is sweating all over you and spilling beer on your backpack than when it is dispensed carefully from the other side of a velvet rope, but what is lost in that experience?

Sitting in a meeting today, a rather telling question was asked. We have a new program that will take place outside of the usual theatre in what has been termed a ‘found space’ (think Opera Under the Overpass, but with more Chiavari chairs), and without the austere surroundings, someone asked if patrons could take their wine into the performance. The discussion went very quickly from logistical to philosophical (“Is this the kind of company we want to be?”). Perhaps the dignity of some performance settings are appropriate for the kind of social exchange which wine and words tend to spark, but there is also something to be said for the last bastion of silence and attention where every flavour of a masterpiece can be experienced.

In keeping with habit, I am unable to pose a solution or even a firm position on the matter. I merely thin k it’s a worthwhile idea for discussion.

At the premiere of Mozart's Die Zauberflöte.

Let’s begin by thinking about who used to read the reviews. The answer is simple: everyone, with the exception of the proud few who “don’t read the reviews”. The critic as cultural aficionado was respected for their informed opinion, and received nearly endless buy-in from their readers. A good review spurred ticket sales; a bad review meant a catastrophe at the box office. There’s no telling when this golden age ended, but it surely has.

Fast forward to present day. Do any of us form our opinions or tastes based on the recommendations of some distant and allegedly qualified expert? That very notion flies in the face of the predominant individualist movement. We all prefer to make up our own minds, or at most, consult a trusted friend or colleague. Perhaps this is the result of generations of over-parenting, or the notion that anyone’s opinion can be bought. Whatever the case, arts criticism, at least in the formalized, printed version, finds itself in the previously foreign land of obscurity. More and more media outlets are firing their arts commentators or relegating them to a 3-in column above the funnies. So what, if anything, is to be done? I feel like I do too much pontificating on this blog, so rather than suggesting another ‘best practice’, I say this: Critics of art and music provide vital feedback for artists, they engage the audience in a dialogue about the art, and most importantly and counter-intuitively, they help us to form our own opinions.

Dr. Abreu, image courtesy of www.tedprize.org

The now world-famous educational program that has revolutionized music education and brought us super stars like Gustavo Dudamel and the Simón Bolívar Symphony Orchestra has finally arrived in the United States.  The New England Conservatory of Music, located in Boston, has been exploring this partnership for several years. Dr. José Antonio Abreu, the founder of the Venezuelan based foundation, was awarded an honorary doctorate by the conservatory in 2002, and in 2007, the Simón Bolívar Symphony Orchestra under the direction of ‘the Dude’ himself performed at NEC’s Jordan Hall.

The program, titled El Sistema USA, is beginning by educating 50 ‘fellows’ over the next 5 years, who will each institute “núcleos” around the country, typically where music education is limited or non-existent. The first class of ten arrived in Boston for the start of classes last week, and their diverse backgrounds and common desire to replicate the ingenious program make for a hopeful and exciting group of folks.

I am, admittedly, a cynic in many things, and tend not to be caught up in hyped-up news items. But I have to say, I’ve never felt so hopeful, nay, joyful, about anything of this nature. This fresh approach of music education represents not simply a positive change for music education, or even for classical music, but ultimately for American society. I am neither the first nor the last to do so, but with all my heart, I wish those 10 students at NEC the very best of luck in this most important mission.

The current process for acquiring work visas for international artists is unnecessarily long, difficult, costly of time and money, predicated largely on whim and objective decision, and carries no guarantee for success. The economic effects of receiving a rejected visa application can be devastating for both the traveling artist and the host organization. Furthermore, the application processing time line precludes the possibility of a “back-up plan” since the application process is so lengthy.

I understand the perceived need for border security and protection against defectors, but this issue not only represents a strain on cultural organizations, particularly world music organizations, who rely on talent from abroad, but also sends an extraordinarily-negative message about the American opinion of art and cultural exchange. Now, as it did during each of the previous wars in which the U.S. was involved, art needs to serve as an ambassador (think van Kliburn, Bernstein, Maya Lin).

Here are some suggestions for reform, courtesy of Americans for the Arts:

-UCIS visa application forms O and P should be updated to more accurately reflect the nature of artists’ work.

-Training of UCIS employees should be reorganized and made uniform so as to eliminate bias and objectivity where possible.

-Reduce the application turn-around time and Premium Processing fee (currently $1,000) to reduce economic risk to struggling arts organizations.

To advocate for this issue, contact your state congressman or Americans for the Arts representative.

Soprano Kelly Kaduce in the 2009 OTSL production of "Salome"

Just in the nick of time, and just as has always happened, a new class of arts administrators are coming to the fore with creative solutions to their organization’s financial woes. This is not a new concept, as arts leaders have been constant observers of the duel bottom line (finances vs. artistic integrity). If they hadn’t, we’d be in a very different place today. The shiny side of the dull, recession-weary penny is that the arts are doing more with less, and are reflecting on their products, taking nothing for granted.

The Opera Theatre of St. Louis recently announced their 34^th consecutive season ending with a balanced budget while still producing one of their most artistically pleasing seasons yet. Boston Lyric Opera overcame a significant deficit to balance the budget, and added productions in the process. These are, of course, the happy stories, which are unrepresentative of the larger picture. Several visual and performing arts institutions folded, and not always as a result of mismanagement.

So what makes some companies float while others flounder? No idea. But the thing that arts organizations who survive such times as these all seem to recognize is that, as the famed dramaturg John Conklin writes, “Adverse circumstances offer surprising opportunities to distinguish a Company and build more meaningful relationships with audiences, providing a strong foundation of fiscal responsibility and dedicated stakeholders exists.”

The Nutcrackers and La bohème’s that I so frequently decry are not the foundations of great art, but the crutch upon which we think we must rely. Creativity and responsible management are the true solution.

The focal point of this discussion is, of course, the Metropolitan Opera’s opening production of Puccini’s Tosca, and the many and varied responses to it. Perhaps the most striking an cogent of these responses came from the Met’s Peter Gelb and from the NY Times columnist Anthony Tommasini, who fire a shot across the bows of opera WAGs everywhere: art moves forward, so get over it!

Especially now, as art in America is once again shunted to one side so that ‘the necessities’ can be supported, art administrators and especially patrons play a key role in calling for that which will make art relevant and vital; new works. The logistical considerations of new productions whilst the box office numbers are in the tank are numerous, but another Monet exhibition, Nutcracker, or Beethoven cycle, will do little for the arts in the long run.

If I were to have the privilege of reading a music history text a hundred years after my death, I for one would like to see more from our time than nostalgia and cautious subsistence.

Check out all these volunteers - the Metropolitan Opera House 2007 production of 'War and Peace' used 227 Volunteers

Hyperbolic? Perhaps, but the point I’m trying to get across is that successful careers in the arts are made by more than talent. Especially in regional arts markets such as Minneapolis, Austin, Philadelphia, and to a lesser extent, Boston, aspiring professional musicians and artists have the dual benefit and curse of being able to know everyone in town- and for everyone to know them. This is where the art of the introduction and audition come into play.

For a typical artistic administrator, 99% of the bit roles, chorus spots, and spare audition opportunities (you know, the kind of gigs recent grads get) are offered on the basis of name familiarity, rumor, and hearsay. It’s hard to get a company introduction, and even harder to make a good impression when all they have is your resume, a headshot, and perhaps a recording, which won’t be listened to. For this reason, I call upon the aspiring artists of the world to think small. Especially now, when it is so hard to make a decent living in the arts, think about the ways you can present your name and your face.

Volunteer for supernumerary roles, help at the open house, accept a chorus spot even though you’ve moved on in your career, offer to help copy music! Glamorous? No. The absolute best way to gain experience and be introduced? Definitely. We are not so fortunate as our preceding generation to have graduated into a booming economy where dreams come true over night and the next promotion is just around the corner. If you don’t think you’ll be recognized for these little things, trying Google searching for “managing generation x”, and tell me if the amount of material you find doesn’t point to a certain yearning for the employees of yesteryear by the upper management Boomers.

It’s a tough proposition, but there are more people than ever working towards a career in the arts. Those of us who are too proud to role up our sleeves will quickly be out of work.

With Labor Day now past and the autumn winds returning, another season of performances and exhibitions is almost within reach. We’re all thinking a little harder about how we spend our money, but one could certainly be forgiven for thinking that this may finally be the year when the arts keep their collective head above water. After all, there is much to look forward to. Exciting new maestros take up their batons with both the Los Angeles Philharmonic and New York Philharmonic, the NEA will have a chance to flex its recently appropriated muscles, and arts managers survey a somewhat sunnier financial landscape.

I don’t mean to paint a falsely- rosy picture. At this time last year, we still had opera in Baltimore, Connecticut, and Orlando. Thousands of arts employees were still working their hearts out at museum and orchestra offices from Boston to San Francisco, oblivious to their impending dismissals. As with any recession, there comes a lot of pain and regret for which there is rarely anyone to blame. These are unavoidable truths for an industry that is routinely described with words such as ‘irrelevant’ and ‘bygone’.

It is with this mixture of what economists and pundits call ‘cautious optimism’ that art administrators and supporters are called upon once again to take up the banner for the arts. John V. Bennett, arts columnist for the Los Angeles Times, puts it quite nicely in his September 2004 article where he posits: “Today’s classical-music leadership has largely abdicated its responsibility for self-advocacy. If [the arts] want to maintain their standing in the cultural sphere, they’ll have to fight for it.”

Be advised: this battle begins in the galleries and concert halls, but it is won in homes and schools across the country. Now more than ever before, those of us who are touched by the power of fine art need to be outspoken advocates in our communities, homes, schools, and places of work. By doing so, we can ensure many happy opening nights to come. Toi Toi Toi for 09/10!

Erik Johnson serves as Artistic Associate for Boston Lyric Opera. You can find more on Erik here.