I cleaned up the studio and finished the prototype flower. It sucked. But Margy and I made Selfie kits and she left to deliver twenty to a local enterprise that’s really jumped on board our project. After she left, I chilled the balance of the day away.
This morning I wrote a scathing critique of the arts council’s brochure advertising the upcoming festival of workshops. I see it as a masterpiece of form over function and inappropriate for an organization dedicated to fiscal prudence that’s lost money on its past three festivals.
I sent it to a single board member but I do not like being a shit disturber. However, I know from personal conversations with the majority of board members, that they are freaked out about debt and registration for the coming festival is low.
I defined the essential dilemma: Either the arts council is over programming or current marketing practices are failing. When I considered that, I decided my critique of their only marketing tool was justified.
I don’t feel the brochure is effective for sales. It’s a festival of workshops called TheIsland of the ArtsFestivalor IOTA. The name conveys no information whatsoever and the brochure makes a bad situation worse by advertising nothing but that name on the cover—the prime advertising real estate of their only marketing tool. And there is no ‘call to action;’ there’s no “Register now to avoid disappointment!” kind of thing. It’s good design but bad sales design.
I was on pins and needles till Margy responded; she was very grateful for my thoughts. I went for the dog walk hugely relieved. She’s meeting with the executive director to talk about her concerns and then we’ll wait to see how the IOTA festival goes. If it loses money, I suspect there’ll be a major powwow about the future of their programming/marketing.
The essential questions are: 1) Does the arts council over-program or are poor marketing practices the cause of financial failure? And 2) Can more programming be an effective fundraising policy?
Pooey! I ran out of water. My cistern is dry when it shouldn’t be and I have no idea how to do what, to fix it. I’ve ordered water to come from Nanaimo by truck; that’ll solve the short-term problem, but I’ve to discover why the cistern went dry—why the well stopped working. Like dealing with a Deer carcass; I’m challenged by rural problems. I’m going to have to add checking on my cistern to my routine.
And my personal alarm is broken. Maybe I should not have written my critique to Margy. My karma seems to be bad for some reason.