The reaction to my column was predictable. It ranged from “well, he would say that, wouldn’t he” (I am the CEO of the National Arts Festival) to outright hostility. Sports sponsorship is big bucks, propped up by a juggernaut of mega agencies who earn large commissions from every deal, sporting codes hungry for cheques, TV channels chasing viewers and Marketing Managers ferociously protecting their decisions in case their bosses start asking uncomfortable questions. About value (why is this so much?); about return on investment (what’s in it for us?); about scale (do we really need to go this big?); about clutter (which one is our logo?); and about relevance (we’re a bank, that’s a bicep).
Recently the sporting world has begun to feel the pinch. ABSA have retracted from some of their rugby properties, SASOL have forgone the opportunity to pay for Divvie’s elocution lessons, and Standard Bank have exited their relationship with the country’s biggest soccer brands and cricket. (Disclaimer: Standard Bank are one of the sponsors of the National Arts Festival, of which I am CEO as I’ve already mentioned.)

These are all – unfortunately for the sporting codes – wise and sensible decisions for the companies involved. In Standard Bank’s case they had no option. After announcing that they had to retrench 2000 staff (always a painful choice of last resort for a company) there was no way they could justify standing up in front of the media a few months later happily announcing that they were sinking hundreds of millions into sport. There would have been a riot in the media, from customers and the unions. It was perhaps unfortunate timing as both contracts were up for renewal in the first quarter of next year, maybe if they had another year to run and things had stabilised a bit they might not have had to withdraw completely. But that sort of conjecture isn’t helpful – what’s done is done.

The challenge now facing all those brands, and the many others who are critically evaluating their investment in sport, is how to replace them cost-effectively, responsibly and trying to retain some level of brand presence in the marketplace. The answer is self-evident: Arts sponsorships. Yes, I would say that wouldn’t I? But it is an argument backed up by steady logic.

Sponsorships are, or should be, about quality customer engagement and putting your brand into the heart of an experience passionately embraced by your customers and potential customers. Once you’ve acquired the rights, activation becomes the mantra and success will be measured by how your sponsorship has grown market share. That’s Marketing 101.

Marketing 2.0 goes one step further. It requires you to use sponsorships to deepen relationships, to make your brand integral to, but not disruptive to, the experience, and to become part of the multitude of communities that crop up on social media platforms like Facebook and Twitter to amplify your investment. In short to become part of the community enjoying the experience not the obnoxious outsider brandalizing the experience at every turn.

You’ll notice that I use the word “experience” a lot, rather than “event”, “match”, “festival” or “fixture”. Smart brands understand that the experience is all.

So why does the arts offer a better experience than sport? I’m not going to begin that argument because it’s too subjective. What is backed by fact is the statement that the arts offers a more cost effective experience. To “own” a big sport can cost upward of R100m. To “own” a festival or genre can cost as little as R1m (obviously I’m picking the extremes to make a point, but that’s because the extremes are there for the picking). Value is what the market now needs. People who love sport love sport, people who love arts love arts, and some people enjoy both. Let’s not get into a schoolyard debate about whether it is better to be on the first team rugby or in the inter-house play competition. For those who take part, each is equally important. And the audiences equally valuable to a sponsor.

Advocates of sports sponsorships have a classic fall back: television. Matches are televised, exponentially increasing a brand’s reach and justifying the big ticket. If they’re going to use that argument, though, they need to frame it in the context of responsible sponsorship. They have to prove that having your logo on television deepens the relationship between brand and customer. They have to prove that stadium signage enhances the experience. They have to prove that viewers firstly notice their logo amidst all the clutter, then acknowledge the brand or product attached to it, and then act upon what they have seen. A tough ask. In my opinion, none of those are provable because they’re simply not true. They are clever tools slipped into a contract to make the cost seem more justifiable. Instead, viewers notice, talk about and repeat a simple, low-budget spot dropped in to the rugby breaks with the catchy line “Pump by die dam pump, pump, pump”. How galling for those dropping big cash to own the team, the stadium and the coveted broadcasting rights.
Corporates aren’t buying into the myth any more, as we have seen. To paraphrase Warren Buffet, it is when the tide is low that you can see who isn’t wearing a swimsuit. Right now the tide is lower than it has ever been. And the sporting world is Sandy Bay.
On the other hand there are dozens, possibly hundreds, of festivals, production houses, theatres and artists crafting life-changing experiences for South Africans every single day. And South Africans are flocking to them. Some corporates clocked this ages ago and are reaping the rewards. But there is still opportunity for more. The arts world is ripe for a big brand with plenty of experience of amplifying and activating a sponsorship to get out of the wings and onto the stage. (Scrum metaphors are so last year.) And we have nice swimsuits.

Sponsorship, as we all know, is about marketing which is about business. And business is about numbers and delivering the best return on your shareholder’s investment. In this second of my two-part series, I take a look at how a tiny slice of your sports budget can make a massive impact in the arts world.
Why would any corporate spend millions to get their logo on the jersey of a sports team (a logo that might get noticed, but is considered by the consumer as adjacent to the experience, not integral to it) when they can spend a fraction of that to become part of creating an arts event, production or festival that speaks directly to the heart of the consumer?

Doesn’t add up

It doesn’t add up, which is why extravagant sport sponsorships are barely tolerated in today’s consumer-conscious media.

Part of the blame, it must be said, lies at the feet of the arts community itself. For years it has been battered into a position where it apologises for the sponsorship it seeks. And for the same period of time it has singularly failed to recognise why corporates sponsor anything – not to feel good about themselves (although the pictures do liven up an annual report) but rather to drive sales.

It’s that simple.

And too few of those who seek sponsorship for their arts projects are prepared to recognise that and partner with corporates to help them reach their objectives.

Artists sometimes act as if marketing is a dirty word that will somehow tarnish their credibility. By the same token, sponsors make a hash of it when they get on the wrong side of the experience. As an audience is enjoying a moment of magic, the last thing they want is an intrusion or interruption. But they will respond warmly to a sponsor who brands an event with integrity, saying “Enjoy that? We did too, and we’re glad we could make it possible.”

Secret sauce

That “being on the same side of the experience” is the secret sauce that makes the difference between an effective arts sponsorship and an intrusive one. Some SA corporates have gotten it right – witness Cell C’s inner city art projects, Old Mutual’s customised once-in-a-lifetime music events, and Exclusive Book’s Homebru.

Others, which I won’t go into here, have gotten it wrong, being the sponsorship world’s equivalent of your daughter’s brash boyfriend arriving drunk at a christening in a Bokke beanie. The difference is mature, intelligent activation that earns consumer respect, not disdain.

In part oneI established that the arts market is uncluttered and ripe for the sponsorship picking. If it weren’t already self-evident, let’s unpack the economics of the debate.

To put your company logo on the jersey of a top football club in South Africa will probably (conservatively) cost you R50 million over a couple of years. Then you need to activate the sponsorship and shout about it, which doubles the bill.

The question, then, is this. What could R100 million get you in the arts, and is it better than putting your logo on the jersey of a soccer team?

Own outright

The secret is that, for the cost of the hypothetical football team, you could own outright most, if not all, of the biggest arts events in South Africa, including the National Arts Festival in Grahamstown; KKNK in Oudtshoorn; Aardklop in Potchefstroom; Johannesburg’s Dance Umbrella and the Cape Town International Jazz Festival .

And you would still have some change.

Then, with some smart (not expensive) activation around the event, you could find ways of touching and engaging hundreds of thousands of consumers. All of that, or your logo on a soccer jersey or golf shirt which may or may not get noticed by the fans?

Given that equation, I’m surprised that more financial directors aren’t pushing their marketing directors out the door to brush up on the arts.

Before I get bullied in the playground next time I go to a marketing gathering, let me state clearly and unequivocally that there is a place for sports sponsorship in the marketing mix. Clever brands – such as Standard Bank – have known this for years.

Standard Bank realises that a well-rounded portfolio of sponsorships isn’t just about cutting across a multitude of sporting codes and getting its logo on television, but rather about finding opportunities to touch South Africans whatever their passion, be it cricket, soccer, jazz or theatre. That’s a mature mix, a powerful mix, and one that pays off for it in survey after survey and which puts it at the top of the leaderboard of iconic SA brands.

Magic thread

Another fine example of creating that magic thread between event and spectator is Vodacom’s inspired “official supporter of South African supporters” campaign. In an instant, with a single clever line, it achieves that sense of “we’re on the same side here”.

When you strike gold in the arts world, the rewards are exponentially huge relative to the cost. You become a stand-out brand in a focused, usually educated and probably affluent market. And, because it comes at a relatively lower cost, you can take a few more risks. You can spend on the “safe bets” – the big festivals and the big productions – and throw in a couple of gambles knowing that some of them will pay off – a production here, a tour there, wrapping your marketing spend up in a CSI cloak as you give a leg up to some of the hundreds of community groups who know how the arts can help them restore their dignity and pride, but don’t have the resources to make it happen.

You can do all of that and not come close to the cost of that single soccer jersey.

And because you’re spending carefully and astutely on something that virtually everyone agrees is vital to nation building and identity, chances are you’ll keep your CEO off the front page of the papers…

At a fraction of the price of sport, and with potentially the same (if not greater) ability to move the jaded, brand-exhausted consumer along a “purchase now” trajectory, sponsoring the arts has become the smart marketers’ godsend.

Ripe for the picking

Right now there are hundreds of arts projects ripe for the picking. They range from multi-discipline festivals (the big safe bets with considerable media muscle and public support) through to startup events with huge potential; theatre companies who perform 365 days a year in venues around the country; community theatre groups trying to make a go of it; individual productions that will help you dip a big toe into the arts space; and a multitude of music, jazz and other focused festivals that attract hundreds of thousands of your customers.

No SA brand serious about its future relevance can afford to leave the arts out of the mix. No SA brand serious about delivering shareholder value cannot seriously reconsider its spend on sport. And there are no excuses not to enter this, the most uncluttered of marketing spaces still available.

It is the most cost-effective marketing vehicle in tough economic times. It has the added benefit of not only being the most powerful weapon in a marketing toolbox, but of doing good at the same time. All compelling reasons to get on the bandwagon.

Whereas Coca-Cola and Cingular had created reasons for their existence, Ford had struggled to find a solid and justifiable role. What we learned was that if a brand is part of a story line, our brains will accept the role of the brand and remember its presence. However, if a brand and its role don’t support the story line, the opposite will happen: Our brains will simply erase it. That’s the way we survive and keep from ending up like zombies, considering the average of 2,000 brand messages we are exposed to every day.

What resonates for me is something which underscored a gathering of sponsors at the world’s biggest annual sponsorship conference in Chicago not too long ago – and that is that sponsors need to embed themselves into entertainment the consumer craves. Not as an add-on or afterthought, but as a genuine “value adder” to the entertainment. So when Motorola sponsored Robbie Williams’ recent trip to South Africa, and got a 30-second big screen ad before he came on stage, they got it wrong. They were tackily adding themselves to the experience, rather than become integral to it. That’s the generous assessment. The cynical one is that they did themselves harm by intruding on the consumer’s experience. There’s a delicious word for it – they “brandalized” the event.

Clever sponsors get the difference. They won’t just write out cheques and sit back to admire their name in lights. They actually engage with what they’re sponsoring, and look for ways of enhancing the consumer experience. They realise that, at times, it is better to be discrete and low-key; at other times they can go big and bold. It is a small, but important distinction and being able to tell the opportunities apart make the difference between a mature sponsor and an opportunistic one.

Examples of great sponsorships like that abound – 702′s Walk the Talk; Pick ‘n Pay/Argus Cycle Tour; V-Festival (when it, ahem, actually happens); Old Mutual Encounters; and of course, my personal favourite for obvious reasons, the Standard Bank Young Artist Awards. Those are all sponsors who add value through their involvement – they don’t just hijack the event for their own branding purposes. They act with integrity. We need more of that.

“What a co-incidence,” I said, “That’s my name too.”
“I’ll just get your key.”

Off she hurried. I’m loath to use the world “bustled” because that conjours up images of a rotund B&B owner, wiping on her crisp apron the floury evidence of warm and crusty bread having just been popped into the oven while clucking around her guests like long lost friends. Ms R Water was nothing like that. Ash dripping from her top lip, she hurried through a western-style pub door behind the desk with poodles in tow. “He’s here,” I heard her announce to the gathered staff at the back. I’m sure I heard a celebratory “Whoop”. Dewy-eyed she returned with my key and instructions to follow her to my room.

The journey through the hotel backyard to my room was an adventure in itself. Stepping over dogs, rabbits and, I swear, a mongoose, I nodded sagely when my hostess gestured to a peacock or Guinea Fowl or something (fauna and flora have never been my strong point, so take that mongoose thing with a pinch of salt) and told me that they were likely to walk on my roof tonight and wake me up. As it turned out they didn’t. What did wake me up – repeatedly and relentlessly – was a rooster that decided to “cock a doodle doo” himself to a hoarse whisper on the half hour, every half hour from 2am, just outside my window. Walking to my car the next morning, grumpy from my interrupted sleep, I spied the smug rooster, well, let me call a cock a cock — I spied the smug cock under a nearby tree. Its night of hard work had worn it out, and so it now lay in a deep slumber of its own. I tiptoed over to it, leaned forward and positioned my mouth more or less where I imagined its ear to be. Or maybe it was its ass. Anyway, I leaned toward a tightened orifice. At the top of my lungs I yelled “BOKKE”. Nothing. No dramatic flurry of feathers or that useless panicky thing cocks do with their wings. Zilch. Unsatisfied by my experience with the cock, but quietly pleased at scoring a point over nature, I stood and turned toward my car to see a flutter of frilly curtain in the office window. I gave the spying receptionist a wave and a cheery smile, threw my room key at the mongoose and hopped into my car to start the dusty trek to Potch.

I was in the area as part of my ongoing attempt to get a handle on South African arts festivals. When a small town like Potch stages Aardklop, which tens of thousands of people flock to in the name of the arts, then it’s worth taking a look to see what they’re doing right and what I can learn from them for the benefit of my own employer.

Before arriving, a journalist told me of the outcry that ensued after he reported that Aardklop was like a giant “Kerk Bazaar”. That may be a little harsh, and a comparison that conveniently ignores the cultural passion that runs through the festival. But I can see how he arrived at that description. The massive “Fees Terrein” is basically a patch of lawn enclosed by several streets that have been shut down, giving way to marqueed and caravanned food and craft stalls. While impressive in its size, there’s not much by way of variety. It seems that sosaties are big in Potch. Lamb sosaties, beef sosaties and chicken sosaties. Sosaties on a bun and then, cunningly and to give the illusion of choice, two sosaties on a bun. Sosaties made and sold by a staggering number of NG Kerks and their derivative offshoots (Reformde, Gereformde, Hergereformde and so on). Others braaied on long rows of sizzling grids and sold by means of signs promising that, of all the sosaties in Potch, these are the best — until the next few steps, anyway. Now don’t get me wrong, I love sosaties as much as the next man. But a slice of Bovril toast would have been good in between. They could even sell it on a stick if it makes someone feel better.

And then there was “Mr Mushroom”. Now Mr M is a creative thinker. Obviously well aware of this crowd’s love of food on a stick, he wacked up not just one two or three, but four stalls selling what can only be described as a crumbed mushroom sosatie. Genius.
In case you’re wondering what has precipitated the national stick shortage, I can reassure you that, after Aardklop, supplies will return to normal.

So the food is all well and good, but what of the art? What indeed. I counted a healthy 98 productions on the Festival programme – a good mix between music, theatre, lectures and dance with a sprinkling of children’s theatre thrown in. And there were lots of recognisable names on the bill, such as Sharleen Surtee Richards, Lionel Newton, Frank Opperman, Zane Meas and Chris Chameleon. There’s also powerful, touching and tear-jerkingly beautiful work, like the Lara Bye directed Yellowman. But, and this is likely to be a contentious observation, as with the ABSA Klein Karoo Nasionale Kunstefees in Oudtshoorn, it’s not these 98 productions that give the festival its identity. It’s the multitude of music stages that spring up around town like mushrooms (I told you Mr. M was good). It’s the devastating truth of many of these Festivals that the arts take a back seat. In the front are a procession of pretty boy Westlife wannabees, singing and strumming songs that, to my ear anyway, all blend into one. Now I love live music. I really, really love it. When it is performed by the real deal – non-plasticky South African artists with genuine talent. And it’s not a language thing. I count Karen Zoid, Koos Kombuis, Chris Chameleon and Valiant Swart among my all-time favourite acts, regardless of the language in which they sing. So there’s nothing more depressing to me than stepping out of a mind-blowing performance by Valiant Swart, who I saw playing to a paltry audience of about 20 people in Oudtshoorn earlier this year, and coming face to face with a 5 000 strong crowd weeping over the Cambells and that musical abomination Japie or Gawie or whatever his name is (you know, the one with the hair who massacres Bryan Adams’s songs. If you don’t know him, you certainly know the type). It’s just wrong.

Now I’m not suggesting that festivals should swim against the tsunami of populism. It is what it is. If the masses want to flock together to watch Kurt Darren and Ghapi (that’s the guy) then they must do that and they will be urged along by mindless television talent searches, which, by the way, I love. No-one said I had to be fair or consistent. Salivating big record companies will milk the opportunity and achieve stratospheric CD sales. Sponsors see all the commotion and pay a premium to put their brands in the heart of the experience. Everyone’s happy and that’s all fine. But when that’s the dominating feature of a gathering of people, then you’re not at an arts festival with some music. You’re at a music festival with some arts. So let’s call it that.

Some will argue that what happens on music stages counts as the arts. And they are probably right, especially if you apply a broad definition of the arts that covers anything that is an expression of self, be it on canvas, through song or words. But I’m not talking about philosophy here, I’m talking branding. If you’re staging an event, you should call it something that reflects either the prevailing impression that is created of what you are, or it should describe what you want to be. I think too many events in South Africa pass themselves off as “Arts Festivals” to loosen the purse strings of those who want to get behind the arts. But in staging the event, they tend to default to the crowd-pleasing (read “ticket selling”) shows that stretch the definition.

That said, I have the utmost respect for the men and women who run other festivals in this country. I’ve met a lot of them and they’re constantly under the terrifying triple-whip of funding, logistics and ticket sales. They tend to do it with aplomb and passion, which is why it works. And my hat goes off to the sponsors too who are under increasing pressure to get “bang for their buck” and find a way of moving money off massive sport budgets to the arts. Between them, the major festivals and their sponsors are responsible for tens of millions of rand finding its way into the pockets of our artists, writers, directors and producers and anyone who gets on a stage in front of an audience deserves a cut. Yes, if I’m being honest, even Ghapi. Maybe.

And while on the subject of honesty, a note to the owners of the Rapid Waters Hotel. May I suggest a name change? There was nothing rapid or watery about where I stayed. Let’s be honest, it wasn’t very hotel-ly either. Since we’re all on a learning curve, here’s a tip. In Grahamstown there’s a guesthouse called “The Cockhouse”. I’m sure they’ll let you use the name.