Paying what you can for the arts

Radiohead made a splash by offering its recent album on a "pay what you want" basis. And it worked: Internet marketing research company comScore estimated that 2 out of 5 downloaders paid for the new album. The average was $6, and 12 percent paid $8-$12. And Radiohead made a decent profit, according to various analysts online.

But Radiohead's business model is hardly new. For years, many arts and entertainment venues around town have counted on their fans' good graces to boost the bottom line. Local theaters such as Seattle Repertory Theatre, ACT Theatre and Intiman offer pay-what-you-can nights; museums like SAM allow patrons to set their own entry fees.

Here's a look at how some Seattle institutions have made the pay-what-you-want model work for them. Like Radiohead, many have done quite well, despite the Scrooges out there.

Seattle Art Museum

It's noted at the museum and on its Web site, but you may be surprised to find that SAM's admission is a suggested donation. Museum publicist Erika Lindsay said this might be a rarity at museums, at least locally. Smaller museums that also suggest admission include the Aberdeen Museum of History and Capitol Hill's Seattle Museum of the Mysteries.

For SAM, admissions make up the bulk of the museum's revenue. Together with membership, it totals 42 percent of the return, above public and corporate funding.

Most SAM-goers (97.3 percent) pay full admission at $13. The rest pay less. This setup "makes the art accessible to everyone in the community," said museum director Mimi Gates.

SongSlide

Artists Devin Brewer and John Hurd found in their years of performing that they made out better when they asked fans to contribute, vs. setting a price. So they established the Seattle startup SongSlide, a music download store where customers can preview songs from other independent artists and pay whatever they want. A sliding scale on their Web site shows what the artist and SongSlide get out of that price.

Radiohead's model is validating, said Brewer, a bluegrass and country folk acoustic guitarist. "It's people's desire to support independent artists ... and they pay more when they perceive the artists need more support."

Currently, the Seattle startup has 200 independent artists in its roster. On average, customers pay more than the typical iTunes price, $1.05 for a song and $10.36 for an album.

Local theaters

Local theaters often hold pay-what-you-can nights. These shows either serve as previews, or bring in audience members who can't afford regular ticket prices. Some of the larger theaters that make this offer are Seattle Rep, ACT and Intiman. Others include Taproot, Book-It Repertory, Theater Schmeater, Strawberry Theatre Workshop and Seattle Shakespeare Company.

"The tickets are not about covering full cost; it's about extending the artistic experience to people who otherwise would be locked out," said Scott Nolte, Taproot Theatre's producing artistic director.

Seattle Repertory implemented a pay-what-you-will night for the usually light Halloween, and it sold out. Like many theaters, it holds one such night per performance, totaling around a half-dozen a year. The minimum cost is $1, but customers pay on average $5. But each show, there's always somebody who is willing to pay the full price of $40, because that's what they decide the show is worth, said Christy Carlson, the ticketing services manager.

Maktub

Patterning it after the tile fundraiser that helped renovate Pike Place Market, keyboardist Daniel Spils developed a membership system to pay for the Seattle soul band's November album. For $50, members got an autographed copy of the album weeks before release and enjoyed benefits like an executive producer title and a photo on the band Web site.

"People are hungry to be involved in the creative process," said Spils, who describes Maktub as a "scrappy Radiohead."

In three months, the band met its goal of 200 memberships — some fans even bought two. Maktub plans to pay for its next album, set for spring, the same way.

"I love the music Maktub makes, and just like you would support a cause, it's great to feel like you've helped make something happen," said Karen Luk, a 29-year-old Maktub fan.

Terra Bite Lounge

This Kirkland cafe opened to much fanfare last year with its honor system. Customers pay whatever they want for coffee into an anonymous drop box.

So far, the cafe is subsistent on this model, said owner Ervin Peretz, though it'll be years before he gets reimbursed for opening costs.

About 200 people come in every day, with many regulars. At first, Peretz worried that homeless people might congregate at the cafe, but the bigger problems were the large groups of kids coming in and abusing the baristas.

"Initially, there was a lot of discomfort with our model. Many people — a minority, but still many — were not comfortable choosing how much or when to pay," said Peretz. "However, at this point, those people have gone elsewhere, and the remaining clientele are those who love what we do."

KEXP

Like other local public radio and TV stations — including KPLU, KUOW and KCTS — KEXP is largely supported by listeners, who donate $2 million out of the station's total $3.5 million budget. Average gifts are from $140 to $150, with 30 percent of these donors living outside of Washington. (The station streams its blend of indie and alternative rock on the Web.)

KEXP takes the public-broadcasting sponsorship model to extremes, though. Listeners can donate money to sponsor various walls or objects in the station's office, even the station's urinals and DJ Kevin Cole's hair.

"It really is individuals that are keeping the station going," said executive director Tom Mara. "We are like a public library that doesn't charge listeners for the experience, so KEXP has to rely on the community. It's like one big tip jar."

Columbia City Cinema

The beloved neighborhood movie theater was in danger of closing earlier this fall when it couldn't make rent. Not only did CCC have a $25,000 drain after paying another tenant's rent deficit, but their own rent doubled after that tenant was evicted.

So owner Paul Doyle improvised a fake system of stocks. He notified the 2,200 people on the cinema's e-mail list about buying fake stocks to support a fake Gigantiplex, fake oil boom and fake pristine real estate. The average person donated $25, with the highest putting in $500 for a fake national park.

"It was so humbling and touching to see how good they were," said Doyle, who raised enough to never have to sell fake stocks again. Good thing, because he didn't have a plan B.

Marian Liu: 206-464-3825 or mliu@seattletimes.com