The turnaround king turns Portland around.

Yesterday morning, I joined a few hundred colleagues to hear Michael Kaiser, President of the Kennedy Center, give his “Arts In Crisis” talk – a sermon he’s been delivering on a nationwide tour over the past year. Portland was stop number 55 on the gospel circuit, with Portland Center Stage’s Gerding Theatre standing in for the big white tent.

The stop before Portland? Pierre, South Dakota, population 13,000. (Bonus Points for correct pronunciation of Pierre).

Kaiser has been hailed as “the turnaround king” and called a “transformational leader” based on his record of pulling the fat out of the fire for several struggling arts companies. In his talks, his books, and on his blog, he’s been urging arts leaders to keep investing in producing great, exciting art, rather than allowing the challenges of the recession turn us into boring cowards. We also need to continue investing in marketing (“institutional marketing” in particular). "You can't save your way to financial health," he argues.

One of the event's hosts, the Oregon Arts Commission, encouraged me to blog about it, recognizing my tremendous reach as a thought leader. They didn’t know that I would spend a full 45 minutes coming up with the following:

Michael Kaiser is recognized throughout the universe as the gold standard of gurus. He is both the real deal and the beau ideal—an exemplar of expertise and a paragon of perspicacity. There is no other way to describe him other than by using words like nonpareil, or words that mean the same thing. Some may disagree, but none will dispute that he is arguably the apotheosis of arts administration."

My point being that I don’t know what I’m doing.

Then I remember that I’m not a journalist. I’m an aggregator. My job is to point you in the direction of my betters. In this case (as is often the case) there’s none better than Lisa Radon, one of Portland’s finest arts journalists. Lisa tweeted throughout the talk with one hand while taking notes with another and waving to admirers with another. You can read her smart blog post summarizing Kaiser's talk here. Rumor has it that a video of the talk will be available, as will something they want me to believe is actually called a “podcast.”

Honestly, I went to the event with the stainless steel pump that is my heart primed with liquified natural gas. I prepared for the session by stretching my eye-rolling muscles and practicing my deep sigh technique. I jotted a few crib notes to remind me of choice interjections I might want to shout, such as:

"You wish!"
"In what parallel universe?"
"That's a smart observation. NOT!"
"Yeah...right."

Instead, I was transformed. Well, “transformed” is a little strong. Inspired and a motivated may be better adjectives. When I have the time, I might think about writing more on the topic.

The colleagues with whom I spoke afterwards shared the warm glow. One well-respected arts leader (fictional) went so far as to say, "The only thing that would have made the event more inspiring is if Kaiser were Justin Bieber and we were 12 year old girls."

Here are pictures of Michael Kaiser and Justin Bieber making secret hand gestures to their respective fans.

I'd like to buy a vowel...or get immunity.

So I guess there are times in life when it would be nice to be on a reality tv show. The kind where, with some skill and a little luck, you can win an immunity challenge and be somehow protected from the harshness of competition.

But it ain't so. And this economy we're in is taking no prisoners. So while those working in the arts are adding a ton of advocacy work to their already packed plates to lobby for continued support for the work of institutions and artists (and oh, wonders, perhaps even some increase?), the cold hard facts are that, like all businesses in 2009, the arts are belt tightening.

And, as we are fond of saying, our world is about people. So cutting budgets means...you got it. Cutting positions. Today, Portland Center Stage (where I work) was a place where hearts were getting a little cracked and bruised, as 5 staff members jobs were eliminated as a way to try to bring the year in on budget and prepare for a tough year ahead. Already, there is a lot of chatter in the blogosphere about what that means to our mission, who we are as a company, and whether the right choices were made. The reasons for the instant interest are varied, but I would argue that the interest -- even that expressed with mean spirit -- is a by product of success.

One of the positions cut was Literary Director, held by the much beloved (inside PCS and out) Mead Hunter, aka Dr. Fun. Mead is well-known in the Portland arts scene, and rightly so. His intelligence, elegance, generosity and wicked sense of humor are all prized; and he has been a remarkable ambassador for PCS in the community. So there is a lot of sadness, shock and anger about the news that Mead's role at the theater was eliminated -- again, inside PCS and out.

But a little context is needed. FIVE positions were cut today. And while the others may not be as well known outside the company as Mead, they each in their own way made significant contributions to PCS, and making the theater the community asset that it is. And if that asset is to weather this economy and come out strongly the other side, very difficult decisions must be made. As they must in any organization, business or company.

Losing Mead is a tear in the fabric of PCS; the same can be said of the other four positions, in box office, IT, facilities, and artistic. Other positions were reduced earlier this year, in marketing, fundraising, costuming, and production. None were easy, but they were less visible to the outside view.

We are not alone in now being in the position of trying to do our work with fewer resources. But do our work we will, because if we don't commit to that, we're being completely disrespectful to our colleagues past and current; and to the patrons and audiences who are still supporting us and the arts in Portland to the fullest extent they can.

In fact, by many measures PCS is having a great year; subscriptions at a 15 year high, single tickets on pace to be in the top three years of sales. But what we lacked was a crystal ball last spring that would tell us that the economy would go where it has, and tell us not to expect the kind of growth we'd seen the previous two years. That expectation not being met is the root of the problem.

There is no contest we can win to give us immunity from the financial realities of 2009. But we can meet the challenges head on and be here to grow and succeed in the better days that we believe are ahead.