In the thorny zone where art and commerce meet, the top-down model of production and distribution is quickly breaking down. The 20th century system with which filmmakers, authors, and musicians got their works to the people is in a frightening and thrilling state of flux. What's increasingly apparent is the weakening of the powerhouse studios, publishers, and labels that once controlled almost everything we watched, read, and heard. Thanks to MP3s and an increased devotion to indie labels, the music industry has been the first to shift to a more decentralized model of production and distribution. In the film industry, cheap digital gear and Netflix are eroding the power base of the big studios. The publishing industry is also reeling, as e-books and self-publishing gain legitimacy and readership. But, if companies like Universal, Random House, and, well, Universal aren't footing the bill for the creation and dissemination of our artistic endeavors, then who is?
Kickstarter has succeeded on the belief that ordinary people will invest their money into funding cool creative projects. In an era when we distrust that giant media corporations fairly compensate their artists, consumers have become jaded about forking over their cash. With Kickstarter, 95% of the pledged funding goes to the artist, so we can once again feel passionate about how our money's being spent. Each project gets its own webpage, which includes text, photos, and often videos about the record hoping to get pressed, the documentary seeking seed money, or the graphic novelist in need of ink. The artists establish their funding goals. Artistic ambitions are kept in check by Kickstarter's all-or-nothing policy. So, if you set a goal of $13,000 for the financing of your film and have had $12,900 pledged by the time your deadline passes, you get nothing.
This exact scenario nearly befell Weston Currie's recent Kickstarter campaign. In 2009, Pitchfork named his music video for Grouper's "Hold the Way" one of the Top 20 on the year. Now he's making his first feature length film with Congress, the story of a fictional haunted town told through those who have died there. The film will also have a strong musical component. Joining Grouper in creating the soundtrack to Congress are Mount Eerie, Andrew Dorsett, and the dark-hued drone-and-chant of Ô Paon. However, all of this would still be a dream in the mind of Weston Currie, had he not reached the 13k plateau in time. As the final day of funding began, he was still three thousand shy. Then a late surge of backers – each one pledging $10 to $100 each – finally pushed Congress over the top, with just four minutes to spare. "I felt like I had pulled ahead on the last lap of a marathon," Currie said, "and Congress' 107 backers were there to toss me up into the air at the finish line."
Richly smoky-voiced New Jersey singer-songwriter Dayna Kurtz has been kicking around the music industry for a little over a decade now, putting out smart and well-crafted records on small labels and scraping by as a professional musician. In another era, she would have been picked up by Elektra or Asylum; her career nurtured by label heads who believed in their artists. Unfortunately, she emerged on the scene around the same time that Napster first started making waves. Kurtz really hit her stride in the early 2000s, right when the recording industry started bailing out their boats (and hogging all the life preservers for themselves). Despite this lack of backing from the big boys, NPR, Paste Magazine, and Rolling Stone's German edition (who knew?) have all taken notice and given her high praise. Kurtz is also one of Steve Almond's favorite artists, and he drooled fanatically over her in his new book, Rock and Roll Will Save Your Life. The reward for all of these accomplishments? She couldn't afford to release her latest album, American Standard, in America – the country where she lives and for which the record is named. Thanks to another Kickstarter success story, Dayna Kurtz will be able to pay off the debt she incurred recording the album and release American Standard domestically. She also netted $2,200 above her goal, which she plans to "kick in towards promotion and perhaps make a vinyl version." Bonus!
Will San Francisco chamber pop band The Family Crest also meet their Kickstarter goal? They're hoping to take in $10,000 in order to finance their debut album, The Village. The band say they chose the website because: "Kickstarter not only brings people into The Family, making The Village a record For The People and By The People; it supports our vision of a music landscape where musicians aren't dependent on industry rules and standards, and are free to produce the music they want, how they want it." The music they make is sweeping, wall-of-sound indie rock that alludes to fellow strings-adorned bands like Tindersticks and Arcade Fire, but The Family Crest establish their own Left Coast identity, nodding to '60s San Francisco Baroque pop and timeless folk-rock, as well. This is lush and intricate music, demanding the breadth of a full-length release. As of this writing, The Family Crest's Kickstarter project is nearly half-funded, with a few weeks left to go. As the eleventh hour drive for Congress has shown, the band are off to a promising start. Still, they aren't going to reach their goal because of an NEA grant or a big advance from Sony. Not to get all telethony here, but, if The Village gets made, it will be because of people like you. Plus, if you pitch in, you'll get cool stuff, like an advance copy of the album, or a shirt, or a night of bowling with the band!
Whether Kickstarter is at the beginning of a revolution or simply leveling the current playing field, they have already facilitated amazing contributions to the arts community. According to co-founder Yancey Strickler, the site has coordinated "nearly $15 million in pledges to grassroots, creative projects." He sums up Kickstarter as "an entire creative economy that's completely self-constructed." This is an overly modest statement. Sure, the artists and backers keep this creative economy rolling, but Kickstarter had to design and implement their user-friendly and highly efficient realm before that economy could exist. Weston Currie understands the power of what Kickstarter is accomplishing, both for artists and fans: "Projects that might otherwise never see the light of day are now finding other means of support: community support. It's a way of connecting with other people's art and becoming a significant part the process. Your backers become part of the team. Every person who donated to Congress is now a producer of the film!" For the price of a couple cappuccinos, that's a beautiful thing.
