February 10, 2010

Short Story on Imperialism

Marcus held his time card between his thumb and middle finger, gently pressing against the slip so that it formed a slight crease. His hands, dark and angular from years of wear, pressed down upon the card, flattening it on the surface of the wooden table as he marked the time. With the corners of his eyes drooping from a dearth of sleep, Marcus gazed listlessly outside the window. At one time, the lush vegetation and the distant crags ignited his passions, evoking memories of old sailors' tales and boyish aspirations. Now, they turned stale in the pale sunlight, dulled by the banality of routine labor.

Like many of the less studious young men in his village, Marcus joined the construction gang after a few unsuccessful years in grade school. These blue-collar crowds, individuals caked with earth and drenched in sweat, roamed the streets and cities, occasionally finding work but mainly causing trouble. Gangs like Marcus' were known for their quick hands and robust constitution. Which is precisely why they were called upon to serve the nation's budding colonies. Every day, hundreds of vessels would embark for the new world, upon whose decks were all sorts of vagabonds and exiles looking to start a new life. Over the hills of these new lands, hastily-wrought buildings and huts sprang up overnight, safe under the watchful eyes of town mayors who doubled as militia colonels.

Life was strict, bound by Puritan law and unbreakable codes of conduct. The word of a superior was final; consequences for disobedience were not only harsh but indeed gruesome. Marcus hated his life. What was once hope for a more settled future turned into the begrudging realization of no escape. Even after ten years of service, neither Marcus nor his comrades received one shilling extra in wage, which was in itself fixed no matter what task he performed. The few women who resided within these colonies were required by law to cover their bodies entirely, revealing only their doleful eyes. Even the colonization itself seemed flawed; Marcus occasionally felt a sense of deja-vu as he plodded upon lands that never changed, that never indicated any sign of progress.

On this day, Marcus hovered next to the town planner as he waited for instructions on his new project. This particular town was to be built on a small peninsula, bound by cold blue waters and held onto the mainland by an isthmus no wider than six bodies. Despite its isolation, the peninsula held resources that were valuable to the colonists. Marcus assumed that the planner would emphasize the construction of homes and gathering communities.

We must imagine his shock as he received his orders: to march with his fellow workers across the isthmus to the mainland and lay the foundations for a small fort. But we haven't any shelter for our weary colonists! His protests fell to deaf ears. Evidently, another group of colonists had taken shelter upon the mainland, and the mayor realized that conflict over the area's natural resources was bound to occur. Damn Frenchmen.

Marcus set for the mainland. To his either side, the gentle waters splashed against the land, forming puddles of mud along the thin coastline. Behind him, the blinking lights of town grew ever distant, finally disappearing under a hood of gray fog. Marcus remembered the fear he felt the first time he left for the wilderness; what a foolish lad he had been! After all, fear now represented the possibility of change to his routine, placid life. Fear was his only means of escape.

Hardly had Marcus began working when he was knocked to the floor by a zergling. Zerglings, what the fuck? He knew it was too late to save himself, but he sounded the alarm to his fellow SCVs. Fuckin' red changed races at the last minute... We've just been 4 pooled! The remaining workers scrambled towards base, as one lucky barracks lifted just before it could be brought down to red. Marcus knew this was probably GG, but if the SCVs at home could micro well enough, they might be able to hold back the rush and leave the zerg economically behind. Marcus smiled with his dying breath. Damn noobs...

August 26, 2009

RAISIN BRAHMS!?


Anybody who watches TV shows on hulu will have seen these new "Raisin Brahms" commercials:


I laughed too when I saw it the first couple of times. What's great is that the commercial uses Brahms rather than one of those composers you get sick of hearing all the time (i.e. Mozart, Beethoven). The more I see it, though, the less it makes sense to me -- not just the video itself (an obvious spoof on our favorite Kool-Aid commercials), but the whole marketing strategy behind this campaign. Consider the following:

1.) This.














By feeding your children the arts, you may risk their eligibility for international sporting events (I couldn't find a picture of the little girl growing the same thick beard). I guess the message is that the arts make your kids more mature, but if anything, this might extend that stereotype of classical music being mainly for "old people."

2.) Hulu audiences are not very similar to the family portrayed in the commercial. Can you imagine the dazed, robotic parents in that segment even understanding how to operate a computer, much less watching family-friendly shows like Shaq vs. or Hell's Kitchen? I don't see this video striking resonance with too many viewers.

3.) The commercial is just plain silly. While I appreciate the good use of humor in advancing a cause, I'm not so sure that a commercial like this one clearly communicates the actual contents of the arts. In fact, it strikes me as a desparate attempt to expand arts viewership during a bad economy by portraying the classical arts as something that they're not. Developing fine arts audiences has never been a quick and easy process, and I think this commercial tries too hard to take that shortcut -- a move that could ultimately undermine its own intent.

August 23, 2009

Exploring Wegmans



Today, I went on a journey across the northern neighborhoods of Baltimore to visit the El Dorado of supermarket chains: Wegmans. Although most Wegmans stores are located further up north in Pennsylvania or New York, their corporate strategy department was absolutely astute in extending their services to this part of the States.

[Come to think of it, a lot of chains that centralize in one US region but have "frontier" locations elsewhere tend to be very high-quality. Rockfish comes to mind.]

The first thing I noticed about Wegmans was that it is located inside a shopping center alongside such stores as White&Black and Banana Republic. Now as you all probably know from experience, this is extremely unusual for a supermarket; most are the focal point of smaller strip malls. But the location doesn't seem to detract otherwise busy mall shoppers from dropping by. In fact, Wegmans may have been one of the most crowded markets I've ever been to. Wegmans is so crowded that many people arrive in pairs but shop alone so that their partners can drive up to the front doors and pick up groceries there. As a punishment for not knowing to doing so, I had to park my car a good quarter-mile away.

As I walked inside, I immediately realized why people were so enamored with this place. Wegmans is not a supermarket -- it is a shrine dedicated to the passion of food. Sure, you have all the indicators of quality service: friendly and helpful staff, clean environment, and beautiful displays. But those are not the reasons why Wegmans is great.

First, Wegmans has a zealous dedication to fresh ingredients that is unmatched by any other store, even Whole Foods or Trader Joes. The qualifer here is "fresh" -- rather than adopting the "my shit is holier than your shit because it was made without splicing DNA" attitude, Wegmans takes a more practical approach: giving chefs the best stuff. The ripe avocados here, for instance, are actually ripe and ready-to-guacamolize. Labels on fruits and vegetables disclose not only whether they are organic, but also where they were grown. The great thing is that, unlike at organic specialty stores, you have much more choice over whether to buy organic (I hate this term, by the way -- what's the opposite of organic, inorganic? That makes my fuji apples sound like they're actually alkaline metals). After all, in good cooking, organic is secondary to fresh, and much more expensive.

Second, Wegmans takes this fresh approach a step further by applying it to all products, not just fruits and vegetables. The deli, for instance, adopts the model of those farmers markets where you take a number and make your order upon being called up. The workers slice the meat in front of your eyes and sometimes give you a little extra for the same price. The bakery is the same; goods over a day old are not kept around. Wegmans has some great cafes on hand. Locals (despite the selection bias) are unanimous in saying that Wegmans' sandwiches and soups are the best in the area, and even the pizza shop gets recognition for using wholesome ingredients.

Finally, Wegmans is not only a place to buy great stuff, but also a resource center for those who love cooking. The store offers easy access to recipes and even hosts classes: fine cooking, cooking for busy parents, etc... It also opens until midnight on all days, so late workers and procrastinators can all get their fill.

As an extra, try searching for news on Wegmans. Rather than finding news about robberies or product recalls, you might find out about their alternative energy investments or their general badassery.

I'll be sure to return here, maybe as early as next week. My only other alternatives, anyhow, are not-so-Safeway and re-Tardget. Even though the store is 15 miles away from where I live, the trip was more than worth it.

---

Special thanks to Hannah Richardson for telling me about this place!


August 15, 2009

Selling or Serving?

Last summer, I sat among a row of cubicles in the corporate compartment that is 445 12th Street SW, Washington DC. The big news of the day was the nationwide transition to DTV. Even though everybody knew that it was happening, and that it was (at that time) happening on February 18th, 2009, nobody really knew what the new policy meant for them. In actuality, it was very simple: if you watched TV with an antenna, you needed to apply for a coupon that would knock $40 off a digital converter box. If you watched cable or satellite TV, on the other hand, you were fine. Of course, government policies always have a way of being misconstrued by the public (see Obama Healthcare, 2009). We heard the most outlandish claims from crazy people, from the [insert representative organization] who believed that the policies was enacted to repress [insert minority group], or better yet, the radicals who believed that the government was trying to spy on American households.

Here comes the Federal Communications Comisssion to the rescue! I still remember the presentations we would give: "Back then, color revolutionized TV. On February 18th, 2009, digital will be the new revolution. Is your household prepared?" The cubicle-dweller's best friend is his dull gray telephone, and I made scores of calls each day to libraries, senior centers, minority conventions, and anybody who would possibly be interested in having a federal agent over to talk about the next big thing. We wanted to make the transition easy for consumers, and while we succeeded, I felt at times the guilt of a shameful kid cleaning the underwear that he soiled himself, for representing the body responsible for forcing the people to change in the first place.

A year later, I'm sitting at an office-icle (esentially a cubicle built for live customer service), wielding yet another dull gray phone, working my rotation as an Admissions Officer. The position is more or less sales; the purpose is to get students to enroll at the university. Like before, I am making calls to people on a list - not exactly cold calls in either case, but nonetheless approaches toward strangers. I try to work off people's motivations, or build off someone's dissatisfaction with their lives, to convince them that a higher degree is exactly what they need.

The irony is that I feel less of a salesman now than I did last year, this despite that the FCC's mission revolves around serving the people, despite that people actually pay us money here at the university, despite that our training here is essentially a compilation of sales best practices. Mainly, its because I don't feel like I'm imposing here. Its funny how capitalism works: with this little incentive called money, we are forced to listen to the consumer's needs much more than we would if we could just blanket a policy over the country, even though the policy is designed to make things better for people. Of course, we always hear about sales being deceiving to the consumer - salesmen hide information, or fail to mention important details. Yet at least in this industry, there is little margn for such practice. Competition is fierce, with both large for-profit schools and community colleges in the fray, and legal consequences of deceit can be especially frightening.

The reason I make this comparison is that despite all that we hear about corporate greed and organizational detachedness from "Main Street," even though some of these accusations may indeed prove true, there are moments when business genuinely makes someone's life better, and it offers them opportunities that they could not have gotten otherwise. Yesterday, I enrolled a student, A., who moved to Baltimore from Somalia seven years ago in pursuit of a better life. Yet despite the newfound political stablity, she has found herself unable to advance very far, with only a limited grasp of English and no college degree. She works full-time six days a week at a parking garage, and her husband does not fare much better as a taxi driver in a dangerous sector of town. Her young daughter is her hope for the future, yet she can barely provide for the child at the very moment. A community college or public school could not have catered to these strict needs. Yet we found a solution, and I remember A. trying hard to repress her joy but being unable to do so as she grasped her class schedule in one hand and her daughter's shoulder in the other.

Not to say that where I work is perfect, or even anywhere remotely close, but its refreshing to be in business and occasionally get to see beyond the numbers and charts a moment where the service actually makes someone happy. That's the core value any service organization has got to remember as it grows. The customer does not need to enjoy the service, the organization needs to ensure that she does.

July 28, 2009

ROSEWOOD - Chapter 2


Built in the 1800s, the Rosewood Center finally shut down last year after a tumultuous and controversy-ridden history.


Few cities capture the spirit of "has-been" more than Owings Mills. Structures that were considered mansions in past lives dot the landscape, consumed by mossy vines. Rusty industrial relics remind visitors of a gilded past now exposed and depleted. Lawns of weedy tallgrass partially cover the dusty brick walls of low-income and minority communities.

And then there is the Rosewood Center. Built in 1888, the mental asylum grew to the size of a large university, with its own cafeteria, recreational center, even its own clinic. Yet the management quickly learned of its inability to lead such a facility. Stories of torture, abuse, and even rape surfaced throughout the institution's life, destroying its reputation little by little, until finally in 2006 the Rosewood Center was forced to close its doors. Now, three years later, the center's colonial-style buildings reek of neglect and slowly crumble into nothingness.

Ethan knew nothing of this when he jogged through the campus. It was a mild, sunny day, and the weather suited a brisk run. Although he noticed the Center's unkempt yards and dilapidated buildings, he figured that he was in an abandoned college or boarding school.

As he headed up the main road's shattered sidewalk, Ethan noticed what appeared to be a running track some one hundred meters to the left. The obsidian track, partially shrouded by trees, lay in a grassy depression. Although the day was fairly windy, the air around it seemed to stand still. Birds and insects appeared to avoid the track enclave altogether.

Yet the most obvious indicators never seem to deter our headstrong hero, who decided that the track would be ideal for running suicides. A weightlifter, he tried whenever possible to complement his training with anaerobic sets instead of long-distance cardio. And he had just found his proving grounds.

Just then, the shriek of a loud siren startled Ethan, who fell backwards. Struggling to gain composure, he pushed himself upwards to find a white van marked with the words "Baltimore Security." The driver, a middle-aged, grizzly black man, stepped out, perhaps amused at how little effort he needed to knock the younger man to the floor.

"You can't go that way. I know it looks abandoned, but this land belongs to the government now."

Ethan dusted his sleveless t-shirt off, slightly embarassed. "What's so special about this place?"

"This used to be the School for the Feeble Minded. A mental hospital for all kinds of crazy people. There was one lady who died losing all her blood after pulling out all her toenails with her bare hands. Another man went mad during lunch and gutted his caretaker with a cafeteria fork. Come to think of it, that happened twi-"

"Okay I get the picture!" Ethan snapped, somewhat disgusted. "Why did they shut this place down? Where else would those people go for help?"

The security officer's hoary brows tightened as he stared Ethan in the eyes. "They weren't getting any help here. People were tortured, they were mocked, raped, and abused at this center. Their beds were stuffed with asbestos so that they would pass away sooner and make room for new victims. You're in a twisted place. Stay away."

Some people shy away from what they fear. Others, like Ethan, take it as a challenge. The greatest adventures, after all, lie outside their comfort zones. Rejection only increases their curiosity and intrigue. So it was no surprise that scarcely one hour later, Ethan returned to the Rosewood Center, sneaking toward the obsidian track, past the security officers' watch.


July 27, 2009

ROSEWOOD - Chapter 1


The Rosewood Center in Owings Mills, Md. Formerly known as the Asylum and Training School for the Feeble Minded.




(based on a true story)

Ethan rushed his blue SUV down the I-795 corridor toward his new apartment in Owings Mills. The cardboard boxes full of books and furniture rattled as he careened past the all-too-comfortable Maryland drivers, those poor ambitionless spirits who satisfied themselves with poorly conceived speed limits. Always challenge the status quo, he affirmed to himself. He was reminded of a professor's favorite quote: Mankind thrives on creative destruction.

Although he looked forward to his new job as an academic dean, Ethan neither liked nor cared for the city of Owings Mills. "Just a sleepy suburb full of minorities and welfare babies," he would complain as he searched on the internet for a proper apartment. Most of his friends agreed; they were, after all, graduates of a prestigious and driven university, stewards of their future career aspirations to become brain surgeons and law partners. Yet Ethan did not flock with them to the usual cities where young professionals congregated. More than anybody, he longed for control, and he longed to stand out. He did not want to blend in with the scene in New York City or Chicago. Ethan wanted to become "the man," even if it meant coming to a dump like Owings Mills.

The apartment manager did not bother looking up as Ethan approached her desk, nor did she greet him. Ethan stood perplexed, unaccustomed to being ignored. In three weeks she'll know - no, they'll all know my name. Yet she continued to stare listlessly at her computer screen.

"Excuse me?" Ethan demanded. "I'm here for my apartment. I can't wait all day for you to daydream!" Ethan was not abrasive by nature, but he justified his behavior with a theory that combativeness was the only way to succeed in a competitive business environment. Although his aggressive approach landed him many enemies, he realized that even the worst adversaries respected his quick decisionmaking and inpenetrable facade. And respect was the most valuable commodity.

But the apartment manager barely seemed to notice. She continued to stare blankly into her computer screen. "Excuse me!" Ethan repeated. The manager looked at him apathetically. Without moving her lips, she quietly unclenched her fist to reveal a perfect set of Room 33 G keys. What a customer service disaster, Ethan thought to himself. He grabbed the keys and headed toward his room.

"Enjoy Owings Mills, Mr. Ethan."
Though he did not admit it, something about her voice made Ethan uneasy.




July 08, 2009

A Must-Have Writing Toy


This is essentially a decision tree for words; not only will you find all the meanings, associations, and synonyms of a particular word, but it gives you a neat web of how all these are connected. If you're ever stuck in a writer's block and don't trust the synonyms list on Microsoft Word, try this out. At the very least, you'll save yourself from the embarassment of making erroneous word choices.

July 02, 2009

July 11th Star Wars Concert!



Featuring the ASO at their new venue deluxe, the Verizon Wireless Ampitheatre. I'm extremely excited for this performance; not only will they play the original John Williams suite but also selections from Holst's The Planets and Richard Strauss' Also Sprach Zarathustra!

To put these works into perspective, Holst's Mars influenced the soundtrack to the movie Gladiator so much that the Holst society sued composer Hans Zimmer for copyright infringement. Kinda silly, in my mind, when most music can find its roots in some past work. Take the famous Ode de Joy theme, for instance: Beethoven borrowed that melody nearly verbatim from a popular drinking song.

Strauss' music, on the other hand, was actually used verbatim for the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey. Might have seen it in a few used car financing commercials as well. All in all, should turn out to be an awesome concert.

On a final note, although it's exciting to see the high turnout rates that these outdoors pops concerts usually get, unfortunately they don't usually translate to greater ticket sales for classical concerts. This hardly means that they are a strategic failure, though, since the orchestra not only gets plenty of pops revenue but also strengthens its role in its community, which ultimately leads to greater political and financial support during trying economic times ("in THIS economy..."). Just goes to show that orchestras can better navigate the waters by setting missions and goals outside the traditional classical spectrum.


June 17, 2009

This is not an orchestra economics post...

One of the more salient contributions of cultural economics to the field in general is the formal conceptualization of "addictive preferences," or in non-academic terms, acquired tastes. Tastes for the arts, and fine arts in particular, often fall into this category because demand for these goods increases with past exposure. This has been shown both in individual case studies and in audience segmentation studies.

This is where all references to cultural economics stop, since I'm actually here to talk about another addictive preference today: alcohol! Specifically, how the hell did I become a whiskey (whisky for the Irish) man? Like the arts, whiskey drinking involves a lot of patience, experimentation, and in some cases, failure (do NOT buy Grant's unless you want to study last night's dinner!). What puzzles many is that whiskey, frankly, tastes kind of shitty the first time you have it; why go through so much work when there are clearly greater opportunities for pleasure? Even if you, the newbie (assuming you're one of my regular readers), were to sip the finest 30-year single malt, you wouldn't have the taste buds to make a clear, articulation distinction between this ostentatious luxury and a bottle (or as those collegiate plebians call it, a "handle") of Jim Beam.

FYI, Jim Beam's aftertaste resembles a mouthful of canned corn. Malts don't.

My only answer is that the process of experimentation is an investment to a much greater return. Nobody asks, for instance, why a dorky male would try so hard and fail multiple times to lose his virginity when there are easy substitutes out there (porn). Or why an investor would continue to work his money even though his past ventures have evaporated a small fortune (ok, some do ask). Put simply, however, the reward justifies the means.

This still begs the next question, though: how in the world could I possibly know that whiskey will be a good reward? This, I can only blame instinct. Maybe its an inherent appreciation for the subtle - I am an arts guy after all. Maybe I prefer the classy, yet masculine social context of whiskey over the trampling testosterone of beer and the starving, frigid revolutionist of vodka. But the reasons are buried in my subconcious. Who knows. Time for another glass of 'fiddich.


June 12, 2009

Farewell, ASA

Don't let the title mislead you. Despite the good times, I am not here to reminisce about my two years as an ASA officer.

No, this article isn't about me (despite my promise in the my previous post mere hours ago). This article is about Duke's Asian Students Association as an organization, one that has not looked out towards its environment in ages and suddenly finds itself immersed in unfamiliar waters. This article is not a targeted rant at any past leader, since the underlying forces that have led to this current state have creeped stealthily off the radar, and old initiatives that worked in the past still seemed to work, albeit with dropping standards and efficiency every year. Rather, this article identifies how a changing Duke no longer allows the ASA to be what it once was, and it prescribes solutions that may fix the current problem. None of these solutions can involve keeping the ASA in its current form and mission, though; this is why I say farewell today.

What's at issue here? Put simply, the ASA has little power to create a constituency on campus. The idealized ASA wants to focus on four pillars: social, cultural, political, and community. Each pillar has a specific goal, yet the organization is no longer able to adequately acheive these goals. Two forces have been at work here:

1.) The rising Asian population at Duke. Once a school with fewer than 10% able to claim Far Eastern descent, Duke has recently shifted admissions policies and now welcomes freshman classes with over 30% Asians. On the surface, this seems like a good thing for the Asian Students Association - more "constituents!" Many will argue that Asian students have a tendency to self-segregate, and consequently more should self-segregate within the umbrella of the ASA. With a small Asian population, this may be true, as Asian students find a degree of familiarity and empathy with other Asian students they cannot find anywhere else, and having an organization to facilitate making these connections makes sense. A larger Asian population, though, means greater segregation within the race. With so many Asians around, it no longer makes sense to make friends solely because of race. Other factors like ethnicity, active interests, hobbies, or religion play a much larger role in creating communities than race. As an exercise, imagine yourself (if you're Asian!) in a small town with two other Asians - you're much more likely to be friends with these two specific individuals than if the town consisted entirely of Asians. To put it obviously, there's a greater chance that you'll find Asians with interests and personalities more compatible with yours in the second scenario. And of course, with a larger population, theres also a degree of backlash against self-segregation, and you'll find many Asian students who are thoroughly disgusted with the idea of a racially-segregating organization in the first place. This leads to the second force:

2.) The rise of student groups. From 2005-2009, the number of student groups on campus has doubled. Many groups are able to form close, involved communities. IV, for example, thrives on members' religious connections, while groups like the Taiwanese Students Association and the Thai Students Organization can unify members based on their ethnicity and country of origin. These groups are thus much more attractive to different students than the Asian Students Association, which has no unifying power besides race. The recent emergence of groups like the Chinese Students Association only further compounds this competition for membership and involvement.

These forces have profound consequences for the ASA's ability to complete its goals.

A.) Community. In the past few years, ASA execs have found it increasingly difficult to attract interest towards the organization, either through freshman events or through engaging an older population. Start-of-year programs, whether under the guise of FAMLI or big-little siblings, ultimately fail because freshmen have better alternatives than to get involved with an organization that connects little with them. I often hear opposing arguments that there are pockets of success within these programs, that there are instances where dedicated upperclassmen befriend freshmen who ultimately get involved with ASA. This argument is equivalent to saying that GM is a successful company because it sold a car to my uncle. Of course, there are freshmen who may come to ASA meetings at first and seem genuinely interested in ASA. Most of them stop caring once officer elections are over. There are also freshmen who make friends with upperclassmen because of shared hobbies or interests. This means the ASA is irrelevant in the scenario. Yes, the ASA program might have created the friendship, but no, it is neither the purpose of the program nor is it to the benefit of ASA. I've only talked about freshman community in this argument so far because any upperclass community generally consists of execs + which friends they could pull in that day. By that age, most people are already turned off.

B.) Cultural. Outside of LNY, other cultural groups take away some of the ASA's monopoly over cultural events. Some events, like hot pot night, still succeed heartily, while others flop. This is because increased cultural competition forces events to become more interesting and relevant to students' preferences. Simply offering culture, in other words, is not enough; the culture offered must be able to attract students. I know this is common sense, but it hasn't always been used, and I suspect this is because ASA sometimes believes it still owns a cultural monopoly.

C.) Political. Groups like DEAN and Common Ground who specialize in political discourse are able to provide quality events that easily compete with ASA's offerings. Furthermore, with a disparate Asian population as described above, there is little demand for ASA to serve as a "representative" organization. In other words, this is why we don't see a "white students organization" speak up whenever there is reverse discrimination. Yes, the BSA is a counter-example to what I've just argued, but lets face it, African-Americans unify more as a race because of historical factors, factors that do not influence the Asian-American population.

D.) Social. ASA is able to attract a certain population to its social events if the event itself is attractive. Again, this is pretty intuitive. Again, the rise of new student groups and the segmentation of the Asian population means that quality is more important than ever, and that simply being the hot spot for Asians doesn't cut it anymore.

What kind of role, then, fits the ASA in this kind of environment? Many have argued that there is no longer any need for an Asian Students Association. I disagree, there are several advantages an ASA could have that other cultural organizations may lack.

Scale - ASA can produce large-scale events like LNY, major charity drives, and high-profile speakers (ex. Russell Peters) because of its large scale and budget. The task would not be as approchable for individual cultural groups, both due to money and due to the number of acts related to their own culture they could field. It is much more efficient for a central organization like the ASA to oversee the production of these programs. The ASA's scale is also helpful in lobbying for Academic initiatives like an East Asian studies program.

Scope - Although East Asian cultures are unique in themselves, they share close similarities that are missing in other cultures. Therefore, great possibility exists for cross-cultural inquiry or collaboration. For example, a disaster relief project by the VSA may want to expand its reach to other East Asian cultural groups. In these cases, an organization like the ASA can advantageously move to increase communication among cultural groups or facilitate partnerships between them. ASA's inclusive scope also means that it can serve as a conduit of communication between Duke administration, student government bodies, and East Asian cultural groups.

A successful ASA, therefore, depends on its ability to a.) create successful cultural, academic, and social programming, and b.) foster communication and collaboration among ethnic or cultural student groups. Creating an "Asian community" within the general student body is irrelevant in this new environment; there is no market for such a product when there is no demand. In fact, focusing on programming rather than recruitment may help overall involvement in ASA, as the door opens up towards those who have broad interest in Asian cultures, not just those of Asian descent. Likewise, "representation" of the Asian population at Duke does not work when the population does not see itself as part of the ASA.

How to approach this rebuilding is the task of the new executive board. The personnel quality is there, but the temptation of reverting to status quo always remains.


From D-town back to D-town

I'm such an infrequent blogger, and when I do write I tend to produce analytical articles detailing the sustainability of symphony orchestras or the mental processes behind musical performance. It's difficult for me to separate my passions from my daily life; even the simplest logic will thus lead you to conclude that I am, indeed, a pretty big dork (+1 for using a semicolon!). But obviously, life isn't all about Baumol's Cost-Disease, and for those of you who care to follow up with me, I know that these Additional Pylons have been a bit of a disappointment.

To that end, I've decided that I Must Construct Additional Pylons into a more personal space. Of course I'll have plenty to write about music, as you would probably expect, and of course I'll talk about things like organizational strategy and education management (it is my job after all!). But since you are presumably reading this blog to keep up with me, Yi (Ethan) Xiang, you'll get what you want - plenty more of me (in a non-pornographic way).

So what's been going on here in the humid confines of Duluth, Georgia? Not too much. My daytime consists of long exercise routines at (much too) sunny Pickneyville Park or in the ultra-modern, renovated YMCA weight room. That is usually followed with some reading and GMAT studying. At night, I might go out for a drink or a mini-adventure with Matt, and of course, there's lounging around with the guys in channel scu. I've been on some interesting expeditions since graduation, however, from learning to ride a trotting horse in south Georgia to gathering 60 pounds of old, unused clothing in my attic for the local donation center (my, have I grown. and shrank. and grown again).

A few more events of note:

1. The Blattella asahinai has found its way to Georgia! The Asian Cockroach, that is. Has wings, can fly, attracted to light. Most of the time, you have to look out for roaches - they run away from light and hide under cracks. But the Asian Cockroach finds YOU! As you may be the only source of light in your otherwise energy-saving household, this guy will nonchalantly hover into your office room and select your laptop as its landing pad. Asian roaches also have higher armor upgrades than their American counterparts and are resistant to concus- er, chemcal damage. Not that my house is a roach lounge or anything; these things just happen more often when you live near the forest.

2. Been working on some video game music. The biggest challenge, to me at least, is that game music is more catchy than interesting. An interesting harmony is full of surprises and leads to a musical conclusion in unexpected ways. Example: "I Dreamed a Dream" from Les Miserables, when the tune modulates from Eb Major to F minor! ("But the tigers come at night...") In contrast, a "catchy" tune is almost always, in musical theory language, I-VI(IV6)-IV(II6)-V-I (ex. "Bleeding Love") or I-V-VI-III-VI-I-IV-V (canon in D). Although less frequent, there are of course other patterns, and I ultimately went with something a little jazzier. Stay tuned for more news on the product.



June 01, 2009

The Economic Disease of American Orchestras (Part I)

This is Part I of a two-part series. Part I focuses on defining and challenging the cost-disease, while Part II examines its strategic implications for symphony orchestras.

Part I: What is the Cost-Disease?

If cultural academia proves accurate, then the fine arts, and symphony orchestras in particular, may be more outdated than anybody once thought. Although they have not degraded culturally or artistically, their business models seem less and less sustainable every year. We often hear how orchestras struggle to pull in audiences; demand has not kept up in a world with modernizing musical tastes. Yet this is only part of the story. Just recently, an Andrew Mellon Foundation report found that even if the average symphony were able to fill all of it seats, it could not recoup enough revenue to match its costs. Intuitively, this seems like a problem, yet we are reminded that nonprofits by definition do not make money. The longtime symphony observer will note that orchestras can fill the gap with various private and public funding mechanisms. But the problem is, orchestras were more self-sufficient in the past!

Baumol and Bowen studied this long-term trend in the 1960s. They found that the fundamental problem with performing arts was that the sector had little productivity increase; an orchestra in 1900 cannot perform a Beethoven symphony any more efficiently than an orchestra in 2009. By constructing an economic model that distinguished the productive and nonproductive (including the arts) sectors, they discovered that rising productivity led to higher wages in both sectors. Cost of living increased across the broad spectrum, and the nonproductive sector found itself mired with higher fixed costs every year. On the other hand, while the productive sector saw increased revenues from higher productivity, the nonproductive sector’s revenues remained relatively flat (relative demand does not change in this model). Ultimately, this led to less production (read: fewer concerts) in the nonproductive sector as managers substituted away from the arts toward more productive activities. Baumol later revised the model and found that production could indeed increase due to the income effect (performing organizations put on more shows to try and recoup income), but that revenue nevertheless accounted for a decreasing fraction of costs, and in particular labor costs.

Empirical evidence since that time suggests that costs have indeed risen faster than revenue. Many orchestras today will admit that they have this problem; though some fault may go towards aggressive labor unions or guest artist agents, the underlying problem cannot be denied. Performances have increased overall due to the founding of many more orchestras (with some federal and state funding solutions) as well as the increased support of private and corporate philanthropy, which is generally a good thing. Yet, with rising costs, is it possible for all these new orchestras to stay in business? Can private philanthropy continue to patch up an ever-widening gap between costs and reveues? Can demand somehow increase enough to bridge this gap?

Of course, the cost-disease theory has its fair share of objections. Some point out that labeling the arts as a “nonproductive” sector is a mistake; there are constantly new product and process innovations. While I believe that this is true of the sector as a whole, the classical arts, and especially symphony orchestras, do not readily reap these gains. The rise of recordings, for one, has been touted as a productivity innovation. Yet the benefits of this innovation distribute asymmetrically; smaller orchestras cannot compete with the brand name and mass recognition of the Chicago Symphonies and the Berlin Philharmonics of the world. This is compounded by the fact that there is a limited classical repertoire for all orchestras to capitalize on. Looking at financial data, most symphonies without international recognition indeed make little revenue from their record sales. What about repertoire innovations? Many orchestras rightfully include room for new composers and modern works in their concert schedules, but their impact is mitigated in several ways. First of all, while these innovations increase demand for the orchestra, they do not necessarily make the orchestra more efficient. Second, the definition of “orchestra” constrains the scope and nature of these innovations. For instance, new repertoire cannot save orchestras from the costs of 80 full-time musicians. Finally, this repertoire has difficulty penetrating the “high culture” stigma of a symphony orchestra. It is the orchestral experience, not simply the music itself, that determines the audience base, and this overall experience is oftentimes just too elitist or stuffy for the average concertgoer despite innovative music.

The arts as a whole are productive - new phenomena like digital music, youtube, and ever-changing musical innovations continue to be profitable. If the arts were another business sector, there would be creative destruction - symphonies might have been phased out of most regions and reduced to a few large cities, as both managers and audiences go toward the more profitable. Yet the mission and nature of classical music and symphony orchestras today is one of preservation. The gap between costs and revenues (known as the "performance income gap") therefore continues to rise, and demand has so far only been able to fill it through philanthropy. While I don't presume to announce that the sky is falling atop the roofs of symphony halls, I will say that the financial operating environment of symphony orchestras is gradually changing, regardless of economic fluctuations like the current one.

(stay tuned for part 2)

April 16, 2009

Musings on Performance

Sometime between the Duke Chamber Players' final concert of the season and my own senior piano recital, I realized how much a musician could learn at Duke. The musicology department, for one, has earned a reputation for excellence over the past years, especially with distinguished professors and researchers like Stephen Jaffe and Larry Todd. The community of student musicians and performance faculty has grown considerably as well; look no further than the rising quality of each Duke Symphony Orchestra concert or in the emergence of new groups like the DCP or the Duke New Music Ensemble. Sharing ideas and performances with such a community ultimately helps all members understand their music better.

What must not be understated, though, is the sheer volume of performances most students undertake. Symphony orchestra and DCP both perform twice a semester. Chamber music, area recitals, personal recitals, and auditions comprise one additional performance. Tack onto this list numerous recital accompanments, gigs, and outreach performances, and it would appear that the most involved performers may be out in front of audiences on average once or twice a week! Suffice it to say, I've had weeks here where I probably spent more time on stage than in class.

Performance, contrary to intuition, does not occur note-to-note. In fact, I don't think most human minds are capable of processing notes at performance speed; such an approach would very likely trip up the musician. Instead, the stage mind thinks in abstract concepts. Performers learn to subconciously group together notes into blocks or phrases, and memory triggers, often the end notes of prior phrases, guide them through a piece. These blocks, or concepts, are not easily perceivable or describable; on stage, they are translated into music through visualization and through emotion. Although the performer does not think by notes, he or she is generally aware of what notes are currently being executed, and thus is able to tweak individual notes during the execution of a particular concept. This is what gives live performance its spontaneity and excitement.

Obviously, this depiction of performance holds consequences for the idea of practicing. Practice is no longer simply a quest for perfection in execution, it is rather a means of building and refining these subjective concepts. These ideas are both conciously and unconciously developed through practice, whether in the formation of a certain phrase contour or in the determination of an ideal attack for a particular note. Performers bulid these details into their concepts rather than think of them conciously during a concert. Likewise, muscle memory is built within the framework of these concepts; look no further than musicians who often have difficult times starting a performance at the middle of a phrase.

As one becomes a more adept performer, he or she is able to conceve of larger and larger phrases and concepts at a time while simultaneously fine-tuning his or her ability to notice and tweak details. Larger conceptions generally mean that a piece is more unified, as the parts, the individual phrases, are seen as components to a whole. Good performers also become more comfortable with their conceptions so that to audiences, their execution looks simple and easy.

These skills can really only develop on stage in front of a real audience; they cannot develop through practice, since practice is altogether a different cognitive process. Thus, the performance time I've had over the last four years has been absolutely invaluable; stage time has been just as valuable a teacher as anything else. I know that opinions sometimes differ on whether private lessons can help much here at Duke, especially given limited practice time and instructor time. But lessons are not the only way to develop musicality. Perform, don't just practice.

December 08, 2008

Red Cliff Review




A couple days ago, I finally watched John Woo's version of Red Cliff, the $80 million epic based off of the Chronicle of the Three Kingdoms, or San Guo Zhi. While previous Three Kingdoms films have all taken from the fictional novel Romance of the Three Kingdoms (San Guo Yan Yi), Woo told interviewers that his film was more realistic and avoided the traditional black-and-white symbolism that the novel endorsed. As a huge fan of San Guo Yan Yi, I naturally wanted to see this new, more grounded version of the decisive Chi Bi battles.

Instead, I walked away craving the original 1980s Romance videos (which I watched on youtube hours before my thesis was due). Red Cliff was a great movie - the acting was for the most part good, the effects were astounding, and Lin Chi-ling is a cutie:). What it lacked, ironically, was realism. In the end, I felt that the old Chinese series, based nearly exactly off San Guo Yan Yi, was both more believable and more realistic, despite its ties to the novel rather than history. Here's why:

1. Things that make you go o_O
In comparison with actual history and San Guo Yan Yi, Red Cliff might have been the most otherworldly. The battle itself, for example (Shu/Wu army vs. Wei army):

History: 50,000 vs. 240,000
San Guo Yan Yi: 100,000 vs. 800,000
Red Cliff: 1* vs. billions

*Guan Yu, the halberd-wielding half-man half-beard
























o_O. Seriously, there was a scene where an exasperated Zhang Fei begs for reinforcements, until the camera then pans to a wall of shields vigilantly parting to make way for the noble Beard. Except... he's alone. Even the horses knew failure and stayed away. And yet, Guan Yu fights his way to Cao Cao's inner circle, where Cao Cao's hundreds of elite champions could not stop him.



2. Hollywood Music
From the movie's start, a full orchestra reminds us time and time again of the main theme: a symphonic, part-noble and part-melancholy work of grandeur. In other words, hollywood stuff. This contrasts to the TV series' simple, guzhen-based pieces. I might be a music snob, but holywood music, though enjoyable, is far from reality. Stick with the authentic stuff.




3. Strategists need Makeovers

Guys like Zhuge Liang and Zhou Yu were supposed to be not only the intellectual cream, but also some cocky badasses who knew exactly how to take over the world. Just take a look at Zhuge Liang's future resume:
- Successfully invaded the Kingdom of Shu
- Captured barbarian leader seven times
- Scared Zhou Yu to death with mental prowess. This is not a figure of speech; he actually gives the poor guy a stroke by proving he's more brilliant.
Red Cliff Zhuge Liang spends his free time helping animals give birth. Seriously?









The thing is, having a more badass chief strategist actually makes San Guo Yan Yi more believable than Red Cliff. Badass Zhuge Liang makes you believe a few thousand men can utterly annihilate a million-strong army, or that a handful of fishing boats can alight an entire fleet of battleships. Confidence, even arrogance, is what drives his character. Wimpy Zhuge Liang hides behind his one-man army (i.e. Guan Yu) and shys away from man-to-man conflict, much less total war. You just can't imagine him burning entire regiments to death or slaughtering old men with his knowledge of Confucian literature (go to 5:30).

More Zhuge Liang
And this




Symphony Orchestras and Market Segmentation

*This is an older entry that I wrote while I was still working on the thesis (still feels weird talking about thesis in past tense). The subject didn't really pertain to my thesis topic, but I felt it was important enough to warrant discussion.

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In the past few weeks, I've spoken with several symphony orchestra CFOs and Vice Presidents about their strategies on hiring guest soloists - musicians who symphonies contract to perform virtuosic works like concertos or arias on a per-concert basis. As it turns out, many orchestras base these policies on a commonly-referenced statistic: classical music audiences are driven by composition, not performance. What this means is that people who attend symphony concerts go primarily because they want to hear a particular piece rather than a particular soloist.

Audiences of pop music, on the other hand, are different. They attend concerts based on who the performer is; the work performed is secondary.

How does this factoid drive policy? Basically, symphonies will skimp on spending for the best soloists and instead pick up "emerging talents" to perform more popular works. In fact, this policy has some advantages. First of all, it's cost-cutting: many symphonies are already running budget deficits, and spending on more expensive soloists may not be the most sensible decision in the short-run. The strategy also allows symphonies to “incubate” young performers; a constant influx of new performers may raise standards and challenge the status quo.

My doubts lie with the actual meaning of the statistic. When these surveys were conducted, only those who currently attended classical concerts were polled. So the only definitive conclusion is that current classical audiences are driven by composition. The studies ignore potential classical audiences and assume that all music audiences are the same. Why adopt this static viewpoint?

In fact, current classical audiences belong to different market segments than pops audiences. The average age of a symphony audience, for one, is much higher. Occupation, income, and race are also vastly different. It is not safe to say, therefore, that classical audiences who are not currently attending many symphony performances are composition-driven. If there are performer-driven classical audiences, then they might only show up to symphony concerts with esteemed soloists. Through my experience, I’ve met both kinds of classical audiences, composition and performance aficionados alike. My best guess is that younger audiences tend to be more performance-driven than older ones – this hypothesis would in fact explain the results of the aforementioned studies.

From an academic standpoint, further research needs to be conducted. Ideally, we would want to know the general characteristics and tastes of everybody who would be interested in attending a symphony concert. Managers should be interested in knowing the market segments of both current audiences and potential audiences – this knowledge would help them conduct targeted marketing. When they only study their existing audiences, many symphony orchestras are ignoring the big picture and catering to only a fraction of their potential patrons.

It is crucial to understand the preferences of both existing and new audiences. The classics face deficits not only due to rising costs of living but also to decreased revenue growth. This knowledge could expand symphonies’ audience bases and increase not only ticket revenue but patronage as well, currently orchestras’ largest source of income.

I’m not necessarily recommending for symphonies to spend more for good soloists. The strategy might only work on a case-by-case basis. However, symphonies could take a longer-term approach by exploring new market segments rather than limiting its research to existing segments. The latter approach might alienate an entire generation of classical patrons and hurt orchestras’ long term sustainability.