Who’s More Fucked?

“Economic downturn” is a fantastic euphemism: It sounds like a
small frown, a furrowed brow, in what’s becoming a grade-A,
freak-the-hell-out situation. And when corporations and fat cats start
cutting their budgets, opera tickets and museum donations are the first
to go. (Not to mention all of us who won’t even be able to afford to go
out anymore. Netflix über alles!) So what is going to get
hit worst? Will the collapse of WaMu sink SAM? Will the Rep go
belly-up? Will restaurants even exist anymore? Welcome to the pity
party. BYOB.

—The Editors

The survey was brief and depressing. Theater fundraisers and arts
administrators said everything looked bleak. Individual giving: down.
Corporate giving: “shit.” Foundation giving: wobbly, as low interest
rates are killing portfolios. Subscription revenue: been declining for
15 years, is declining faster. Ben Moore, managing director at the Rep,
says it’s selling roughly the same number of subscription packages this
year, but people are signing up for three- and four-play packages
instead of full seasons—which means that household economies are
suffering. Both Moore and Carlo Scandiuzzi, the executive director at
ACT, suspect things will keep getting worse. “Next year, you’re going
to see a different organization at the Rep,” Moore sighed. “I’ve been
in the business for 40 years and people who are in the know say they’ve
never seen anything like this.” Then, early this week, the Rep
announced it would close its autumn blockbuster—The Three
Musketeers—a week early because it couldn’t afford to keep it
open. Big theater is fucked. BRENDAN KILEY

Fringe theater is the cockroach of the art world—nimble,
adaptable, quick to die in individual iterations, but impossible to
kill as a whole. (No matter how hard we try.) Ticket revenues are down
for some fringe theaters (Art-attack Ensemble) and up for others
(Annex). Company members are having to take extra jobs and work extra
hours, leaving less time for extracurricular art-making. (Which may
change if unemployment spikes.) The silver lining: cheaper real estate.
If theaters keep operating like small music bars, keeping prices down
and drinks handy, they should weather the storm. And for the real
cockroach companies—who beg, borrow, squat, and steal—it
could be a golden age. BRENDAN KILEY

According to Billboard, CD sales declined 11 percent through
the first half of 2008, although this dip was smaller than that which
occurred for the same period in 2007 (15.1 percent). What has gone up?
Legal digital albums (34.4 percent) and individual tracks (30 percent)
and vinyl purchases (46.2 percent, according to the RIAA—note
that vinyl sales have been rising, even as it’s getting more expensive
to manufacture it). While three of the four major labels slightly lost
market share, indie labels jumped from 12.9 to 13.9 percent. In fact,
local indie Sub Pop had one of its strongest years ever in 2007 and is
doing well this year, too, according to vice president of sales Andy
Kotowicz. Many of Sub Pop’s acts tour like beasts, including

Seattle’s Fleet Foxes, whose debut album passed 100,000 in sales
in early October.

At brick-and-mortar music retail shops, sales plummeted about
10–20 percent in the local stores surveyed, but vinyl sales
continue to surge. Manager David Miranda of Everyday Music’s Capitol
Hill outlet notes, “Now we’re doing like $12,000 a month in new vinyl
sales, whereas in July 2006 we were doing zero. That’s one of the
reasons we’re maintaining our numbers. If we just sold CDs, I don’t
think we’d be able to maintain.” He also cites an increase in turntable
sales.

Music venues haven’t gone unscathed by the economic downturn,
either. The Triple Door’s talent booker Scott Giampino says the club’s
“ticket sales are on par with last year [its best ever], but costs of
operations,
equipment, supplies, and labor are all up.
Dramatically.” Small venues like the Comet and the Sunset will probably
be fine—depressions are for drinking. DAVE SEGAL

In art, it’s about the shoe: At the Frye Art Museum, it’s dropping
already; at the Henry Art Gallery, department heads are preparing for
it to drop; and at Seattle Art Museum, there’s no official position
about the shoe.

Jennifer Aydelott, SAM’s director of development, answered specific
questions via e-mail: “Yes, we have noticed some decreased gifts, but
we have also noticed increased giving as well.” SAM spokeswoman Nicole
Griffin said there is no indication yet that the WaMu collapse will
have an adverse effect on the museum. SAM receives $1.8 million in rent
from the bank annually; the museum, as of now, expects to hold the same
lease with JPMorgan Chase. (WaMu was not an annual-fund donor; it
sponsored one-off events.) Griffin also said the endowment is down, but
she couldn’t say by how much, and she added that the fact that the
museum does not have a larger endowment (it only accounts for 20
percent of the museum’s income) may be a silver lining in this case.
“We’re in a wait-and-see mode,” Griffin said.

Meanwhile Henry director Sylvia Wolf said the museum has made no
staff cuts—yet. The Frye, according to director Midge Bowman,
recently had to axe its experimental teen-education program, largely
because rentals are down at the warehouses the free museum owns, which
provide a large part of its income.

Commercial galleries are apprehensively gearing up for the giant
annual fair Art Basel
Miami Beach, which is usually a cash cow
(business at London’s Frieze Fair was slow recently, but the two may
not be comparable, dealer Greg Kucera said), and anxiously awaiting the
outcome of the election to see which way consumers will go. “By Miami,
maybe the country will be on an optimistic spending spree,” Kucera
said. “If McCain gets in, then we’re just screwed and everybody knows
it.”

As for individual artists, they live lean and on day jobs in the
first place. They get support from organizations like Artist Trust,
which just announced its largest round of grants ever, and solidarity
from collectives like SOIL, which just beat its previous annual auction
record (making $28,000 in art sales).

The shoe in art: erratic. JEN GRAVES

Well, let’s be honest here. Film probably isn’t the most
fucked (sorry, theater). I mean, movies are movies. People go to
movies. Hollywood isn’t going out of business. We might see some
changes in the types of wide-release films that get made: heavy
on escapism, rags-to-riches, talking animals, stuff that makes middle
America feel cozy inside. And as for luxury enterprises like Redmond’s
soon-to-open Gold Class Cinema—where tickets are $35 (weeding out
the riffraff, you see) and patrons sip champagne in plush
recliners—um, good luck, guys.

Our smaller local theaters—the ones that won’t be screening
megamonsters like
Beverly Hills Chihuahua 2: The Legend of
Curly’s Gold or whatever—might not fare so well. Though SIFF
artistic director Carl Spence calls the film industry
“recession-proof,” it sounds like indie theaters are getting ready for
a few lean years. “We will be doing fewer double features,” says
Guerren Marter, owner of the Grand Illusion. “We will be working closer
with the indie film scene to try to curate special events. We will also
try to lower our costs for film rental (and shipping, which is a big
expense), by showing more video. But we have a new $6,000 video
projector—courtesy of a King County grant—so it will still
look great.” Plus, says Susie Purves, managing director of Northwest
Film Forum, “A Northwest Film Forum member can see a movie for $6. Ten
bucks gets you the film and a beer after the show. That is hard to
beat.” LINDY WEST

The recent flourishing of independent filmmaking in Seattle has
almost entirely been supported by private equity. True, Northwest Film
Forum has a start-to-finish grant and offers filmmakers access to free
or inexpensive equipment, but outside of that opportunity there’s
practically nothing in the way of assistance and financing. Vulcan
Productions, which is based in Seattle and owned by the billionaire
Paul Allen, has had little to no role in the local filmmaking scene, as
it only has eyes for standard films that will make a standard
impression on a standard audience. Seattle filmmakers cannot, like
their Canadian counterparts, turn to the government for help. What’s
left? Private individuals with cash to spare.

Zoo, a film I made with the director Robinson Devor, was only
made after THINKFilm offered us a negative pickup (money after the film
was done—and even getting that check was not easy). Without
direct help from Garr Godfrey and Ben Exworthy, Zoo would not
have been finished. The investment they made in Zoo was five
times more than what I make in a year. Films are fucking expensive! You
need at least $150,000 to accomplish a decent-looking picture.
Cthulhu cost over $1 million, Police Beat, another film I
made with Robinson Devor, cost over $250,000. Yes, Hollywood might
laugh at such sums, but in Seattle they are terrific amounts of
money.

With the stock market crashing, and more and more people rushing to
protect whatever savings or investments they have left, the only source
of money for independent filmmaking in Seattle will be lost. This year,
at least four independent films were produced here. Next year I will be
surprised if even one is made. CHARLES MUDEDE

Bookstores, as a rule, aren’t a tremendously profitable endeavor in
the first place, and they generally suffer less in recessions. Michael
Wells, the owner of Bailey/Coy Books, has recently returned a great
deal of old stock to publishers—”Our shelves are thinner than I
would’ve liked at this time of year,” he says—but that’s standard
retail procedure when times are tough.

Two bookstores are expanding their services—Elliott Bay Book
Company is remodeling their downstairs cafe into a bistro, to be
managed by Brasa’s Tamara Murphy, and Ravenna Third Place Books is
replacing their cafe with Vios, a Greek restaurant. Though the
expansion was planned “before the economy turned from its shaky flight
pass into a full-blown nosedive,” Third Place managing partner Robert
Sindelar says the new restaurant will help people “come together to
interact with their neighbors,” which he insists is an important
function of a bookstore in tough economic times. Whether launching a
new restaurant is the way to enhance community in a recession remains
to be seen.

The chance that your favorite neighborhood used-bookstore is going
to go out of business is relatively tiny. Kristina Barnes, the owner of
South Lake Union’s Inner Chapters Bookstore and Cafe, says, “Used
bookstores have a big advantage during hard economic times.” Jamie
Lutton, owner of Twice Sold Tales, says foot traffic at the new Capitol
Hill store is “sort of slow,” but in pace with the neighborhood, and
their sales remain “about the same.” PAUL CONSTANT

The belt-tightening is already happening, going out to dinner is the
definition of a luxury, and yes, Seattle, all those restaurants do make
you look fat. Closures over the last couple months include Coupage,
Pike’s Bar & Grill, Blackbird Bistro, Villa Victoria, and Veil. The
couple of months before that: QUBE, Market Street Grill, Zagi’s Pizza,
the Wellington, Mixtura, Mistral (though the owner’s planning a new
place, which, if he’s smart, he’ll seriously scale back). Note the
geographic dispersal, as well as the price range: from Columbia City to
Ballard, superexpensive to practically takeout. Note also that lots of
these places were well reviewed: What reviewers say couldn’t matter
less to ol’ Market Forces.

Restaurants always come and go, for a variety of reasons, but
there’s going to be a lot of going. Eric Bahn of Monsoon estimates
business for everyone across the board will be down 20 to 30 percent
(“Everybody will have to change their lifestyle”). Those opening new
places have reason for trepidation; these are projects started many
moons back, and there’s no backing out. Bahn’s opening a second Monsoon
in Bellevue next month, about which he says, “It doesn’t look very
cheerful.” Bellevue has also got an imminent new 125-seat El Gaucho
(with six private rooms) and a 200-seat pricey place called Pearl
opening and, well, Bellevue’s not that rich. In the city,
Capitol Hill’s looking overserved: Newcomers Poppy and Spinasse will be
joined by an Ethan Stowell place (Anchovies and Olives), an endeavor
from the Purple people (Barrio), and another Linda Derschang spot (yet
to be named). These will all be within five blocks of each other, and
within 10 blocks of approximately 27 other restaurants. When I posted
on Slog in July forecasting doom, commenter blank12357 responded,
“There will be blood in Madrona. Coupage, Dulces, Crémant, St.
Clouds, Cafe Soleil, Bistro Turkuaz, and the Hi Spot are all stacked on
top of each other, but the street is never busy, and there’s not much
else going on there to bring people out.” Coupage is already gone.
(Crémant just started serving brunch—longer hours are one
way to try to stay afloat. The Capitol Hill Monsoon just started a
happy hour—ditto, and good for newly impoverished would-be
regular customers.)

According to Nancy Leson at the Seattle Times, an Edmonds
restaurant—the Shell Creek Grill—just initiated a
pay-what-you-like policy in order to get bodies at the tables.
Desperation has rarely smelled quite so strong. Restaurants: I’m sorry,
but YIKES. BETHANY JEAN CLEMENT

Providing they’re not stupid-high-concept—that is,
stupid-high-priced—bars will be fine. A drink at a bar is a tiny,
inexpensive tropical isle in a sea of penury. The company of others
while drinking is a solace, and getting drunk with strangers can turn
them into people you’re having sex with, and sex is (ideally) free fun.
People will drink in bars until they’re homeless, and even after. I’m
going to a bar right now. BETHANY JEAN CLEMENT