Human Relations

DOI: 10.1177/0018726709335542
Volume 62(7): 939–962
© The Author(s), 2009
Reprints and Permissions:
http://www.uk.sagepub.com/
journalsPermissions.nav
The Tavistock Institute ®
http://hum.sagepub.com

Managing in the creative industries:

Managing the motley crew
Barbara Townley, Nic Beech and Alan McKinlay

A B S T R AC T This article introduces its subject with a brief overview of some of

the contention concerning the creative industries, in terms of their
purview, their significance within political economy, and the extent
to which, and how, they may differ from other sectors. Arguing that
the ‘motley crew’ is a very broad church, and management must not
confine itself solely to the management of production but should
also consider the role of consumption, the authors suggest that
research into the creative industries may be considered in relation
to the capitals that inform its domain: intellectual capital (creative
ideas), social capital (networks), and cultural capital (recognized
authority or expertise). Considering research in these terms allows
us to identify a matrix that might provide the basis for conversations
between a range of discrete research areas, while also guiding future
research into the creative industries.

K E Y WO R D S creative industries  creativity  cultural capital  identities 

social capital  social networks

The ‘creative industries’ is the collective noun for ‘those activities which have
their origin in individual creativity, skill and talent and which have a poten-
tial for wealth and job creation through the generation and exploitation of
intellectual property’, namely: advertising, architecture, art and antiques,
crafts, design, designer fashion, film, interactive leisure software, music,
performing arts, publishing, software design, TV and radio (Department for
Culture, Media and Sport [DCMS], 1998). Notwithstanding the DCMS
939
940 Human Relations 62(7)

definition, many commentators continue to distinguish between the arts;

cultural industries (as copyrightable); and creative industries (having a
utilitarian functionality) (Hesmondhalgh & Pratt, 2005). Seeing these 13
areas as discrete, however, is harder to maintain, given increasing con-
vergence through digital media technologies. Use of the term, by the UK
government at least, has in part been in response to economic restructuring
and globalization, with claims that the ‘new economy’ has creativity as its
core and that the creative industries are at the centre of this (DCMS, 2008;
Work Foundation, 2007). A ‘creative industries’ grouping, however, prompts
questions as to whether people in these areas perceive themselves to be a
common group and whether, given variations in prospects for growth,
economies of scale, distribution platforms, etc., they could operate with a
common business model. In this special issue we address four creative areas:
advertising, design, film and performance arts, as practised in Canada,
Holland, Japan, the UK and USA.
The term ‘creative industries’ stimulates disquiet because it evokes the
contentious issue of culture’s relationship to value, and more especially, the
market, underscoring debates concerning culture as a public good, the
transcendent role of art and its civilizing affect and effect (Hesmondhalgh &
Pratt, 2005; Jeffcutt et al., 2000). Concerns are that marketization and the
imperatives of the commodity form fundamentally change cultural products,
cultural producers and cultural labour, constituting yet further accretion of
business and management into cultural life. Culture produces value.
Economic production is also the production of value. As the discourse and
practices of business and markets take hold, concerns are that the non-
monetary value of ‘culture’ and ‘art’ is lost. Such debates underpin analyses
posed in terms of contrasting logics, where the aesthetic is pitted against the
efficient, commerce battles with a creative logic, and ‘art for arts sake’
competes against the exigencies of commercial appropriation (Eikhof &
Haunschild, 2007; Glynn, 2000; Thornton et al., 2005).
Debate also focuses on whether the creative industries are ‘different’
from others. For many, because of the nature of their product, the creative
industries raise a different order of managerial and organizational challenges
(Caves, 2000; Hirsch, 2000; Lampel et al., 2000). Creative works are
symbolic, experiential goods of non-utilitarian value. They deal in expressive
or aesthetic tastes rather than utilitarian needs; their meaning and significance
determined by the consumer’s coding and decoding of value. They are not
‘used’ or consumed as are traditional goods. Because of this they raise un-
certainty, an ‘inherent unknowability’ (Caves, 2000), not only in the creative
process, that is, whether there will be a product, but also the uncertainty of
its reception in a putative market. As the demand is unknown, so profit cannot
 Townley et al. Managing in the creative industries 941

be predicted before production costs are incurred. Jeffcutt and Pratt (2002)
refer to them as being ‘chart businesses’. Sunk investment costs (e.g. in films,
books, music and computer games) are only potentially realized in the few
weeks after products are released and are highly dependent on publicity and
reviews for sales. For others, the emphasis on difference is erroneous, either
in that all industries have a creative core and, in the ‘new economy’, all goods
have an expressive element to which consumers respond (Brown, 1995;
Miller, 2001), or, that there is an undue emphasis on the ‘creative’ aspect of
creative industries at the expense of its ‘humdrum’, or standardized elements
of production (McRobbie, 2007; Ross, 2003). Uncertainty is seen as a
characteristic of all economic production, and the ‘inherent unknowability’
identified by Caves (2000) characteristic of business start ups, or the progress
from micro- and small-sized enterprises in emerging markets (Thompson
et al., 2001; Warhurst, forthcoming).
As economic production relies on certainty, or at least efforts to reduce
unpredictability and ‘manage risk’, creative industries act to reduce market
uncertainty through a variety of mechanisms. Media companies have
developed specialist divisions specifically to nurture fresh talent or develop
innovative products as lead indicators of mass market trends. Hollywood’s
studio system relied on this strategy to maintain links with avant-garde
cinema, while music conglomerates also test new genres and retain respected
artists, even if they enjoy only limited sales, to add artistic credibility to the
label (Gander et al., 2007; Lampel & Shamsie, 2003; Miller & Shamsie,
1999; Negus, 1999). By the mid-1970s music conglomerates had refined this,
releasing a broad range of product as test-marketing to identify the few
singles, albums or artists to receive sustained corporate promotion (Maxwell,
1991). Globalization of media conglomerates from the late-1970s paralleled
the inter-penetration of consumer electronics and entertainment corporations
through strategic alliances, mergers and acquisitions. Ownership of film and
television libraries and deep back music catalogues were as vital to global
electronic corporations as to entertainment conglomerates. Such strategies
led to characteristic bifurcated markets where dominant conglomerates own
publishing and distribution rights, and micro-organizations, with short life
cycles due to intense competition, carry out ‘R&D’ (see Hesmondhalgh,
2007). Despite the importance of these industries in financial and cultural
terms, there are no comprehensive business histories, far less a sustained
historiography of the creative industries in general. The creative industries
await their Alfred Chandler.
Uncertainty is also handled (and created) through the labour market,
which displays all the characteristics of secondary labour markets, but even
here, its nature is distinct (Menger, 1999). Employment and unemployment
942 Human Relations 62(7)

can rise simultaneously, largely because of the oversupply of labour. Employ-

ment even for the highly skilled is short term, with earnings distribution
skewed through job rationing. Artists seek to manage career insecurities
through multiple job holdings, for example, musicians act as contract
musicians and teachers, thus posing difficulties in identifying employment
totals (Menger, 1999). High levels of self-employment and characteristic
project-based organization places an emphasis on managing employment
rather than labour relations (Caves, 2000; DeFillipi & Arthur, 1998).
The last two decades have witnessed an explosion of academic interest
in the strategy, performance and, above all, organization of the creative
industries, often emphasizing that their creative character requires a differ-
ent form of management. Marotto et al. (2007) illustrate the type of leader-
ship and management styles promoting ‘peak performance’ in an orchestra.
Sutton and Hargadon (1996) emphasize the productive role for brain-
storming in promoting organizational memory, skill variety, and ‘wisdom’ in
a design agency. Moves to standardization in cultural production, essential
for economies of scale, bring their own pressures (Tschang, 2007). Cohendet
and Simon’s (2007) analysis of video games illustrates how tight/loose
controls are used to balance the demands of creativity and mass production.
Decentralized platforms allow communities of specialists (game developers,
software engineers) to have informal interactions, a degree of creative slack
and, more importantly, creative distance from evaluation, but control is
ensured through strict constraints on time. Where the creative industries were
formerly regarded as unique, they are now suggested as organizational
templates for manufacturing and service sectors desperately coping with frag-
menting mass markets and volatile consumer taste (Lash & Urry, 1994).

Managing the motley crew: A conceptual framework?

Caves (2000: 5) defines the motley crew as the ‘diverse skilled and special-
ized workers, each bringing personal tastes with regard to the quality or
configuration of the product’. This is in danger of buttressing a division
between ‘creatives’ and the ‘humdrum’. Creative production, however,
depends on a vast array of personnel: creative artists (artists, musicians,
actors, writers); brokers acting on their behalf (agents, managers,
promoters); technical craft workers (sound engineers, camera operators);
producers (publishers, studios, record companies); owners and executives;
distributors and media outlets (broadcasters). A creative/humdrum division
has thus been criticized as too simplistic (Donald et al., forthcoming;
Warhurst, forthcoming); failing to recognize the material manifestation of
 Townley et al. Managing in the creative industries 943

immaterial goods (Harney & Hanlon, 2008); and reinforcing essentializing

dualisms portraying creativity and management as antithetical (Jeffcutt &
Pratt, 2002; Townley & Beech, forthcoming). But defining the boundaries of
the creative workforce raises its own problems. Should this include only
‘creative’ occupations; all occupations (e.g. accountants and lawyers) in
creative business; or ‘creatives’ working outside the core industries? Given
some of the difficulties of identification, Pratt (2005) advises an analysis
based on ‘depth’, a gradually broadening circle from those who produce
creative content, to those engaged in exchange, reproduction, providing
manufacturing inputs, educational support and archiving. Given this
complexity, we should raise a preliminary question: how motley is motley?
Equally, a focus on management is problematic. Thompson et al.
(2001) are critical of the neglect of management in discussions of the creative
industries, seeing it as a consequence of a focus on consumption. While there
is a high degree of self-managed creativity in the production of creative work,
access to resources and influencing the market are controlled by a variety of
managerial decisions. But a focus on management cannot be restricted to the
management of production alone (further reinforcing the separation of
production and consumption) but must take into account the entire circuit
of capital: production, distribution, circulation and consumption. But how
do we align an analysis of production with that of cultural production?
We suggest that Bourdieu, with his emphasis not just on the material
production of the creative objects, but also on their construction as a work
of value, provides a framework that would allow us to address some of these
issues. An analysis of cultural products must consider their significance both
within a field of artistic development and a sociological field of power
relations (Bourdieu, 1993). ‘Culture’ or creative works are not autonomous
objects offering a reflection on the ‘human condition’, although they may
function as this. They are implicated in structures of domination and the
reproduction of these structures. Bourdieu rejects an analysis of creative
work solely examining its inter-textually, but equally rejects analyses that
present it as the ‘product’ of structural relations.

Literature, art and their respective producers do not exist inde-

pendently of an institutional framework which authorizes, enables,
empowers and legitimizes them. This framework must be incorporated
into any analysis that pretends to provide a thorough understanding
of cultural goods and practices.
(Bourdieu, 1993: 10)

Creative work is informed by a belief in what constitutes valuable work

in an ‘aesthetic’ sense, but the social context ‘conditions’ how a creative
944 Human Relations 62(7)

product is produced, circulated and consumed. What is required is an

analysis of the material and the symbolic production of creative work: the
social relations in which productive practice takes place and the configur-
ation of social relations that permit the consecration of creative work.
In outlining his analysis, Bourdieu (1986a: 242) argues that it is
‘impossible to account for the structure and functioning of the social world
unless one introduces capital in all its forms and not solely on the one form
recognized by economic theory’. Bourdieu identifies different capitals (i.e. an
asset, benefit or investment) that an individual uses to augment their position
in the field, be this scientific, artistic, political, etc. These capitals are
economic (monetary income, financial resources and assets); social (the
actual or potential resources linked to the possession of a network of insti-
tutionalized relationships); cultural (particular knowledge and skills, the
ownership of cultural goods) and symbolic (legitimacy or respect proffered
according to terms valued within the field; prestige reflecting knowledge of,
and recognition within, the field). All function similarly to economic capital,
in that access to them is not equally distributed and there are patterns of
accumulation, with access to one form of capital making access to others
easier. Although one form of capital may be converted into others, they
remain distinct and separate forms, in that one form does not automatically
entail another. They differ in terms of their degrees of liquidity, convert-
ibility and susceptibility to loss, with economic capital the most liquid and
convertible form. As with economic capital, all capitals must be acquired,
maintained lest they depreciate, and their stock enhanced. Their value lies in
their potential for exchange. Once this is effected, the stock of capital is
depleted or spent. What Bourdieu emphasizes is what he terms a structural
homology, that is, interests and investments in different forms of capital are
analogous to an economic logic, but are not reducible to this. A creative
product is the combination of the social agents’ positioning within a field
and the deployment of their strategies and tactics using all the capitals avail-
able to them in order to influence ‘what is at stake’, that is, what constitutes
a ‘valuable’ creative product (Gulledge & Townley, forthcoming).

Intellectual capital

Why do we suggest this framework? Let’s take as our starting point intel-
lectual capital, by which we mean the ideas that form the basis of any creative
endeavour. Although not using such terms, intellectual capital is that which
is identified in the DCMS definition of the creative industries. The attempt
to identify creativity and the factors that nurture it are the foci of a range of
 Townley et al. Managing in the creative industries 945

research. Underlying it all is a resistance to the view that creative endeavour,

as Warhol once remarked, is ‘just another job’.
For Gordon (1956), ‘creativity’ had become something of a vogue in
management literature. Interest has swayed between the focus on eminent
persons or gifted people, and a more contextual or holistic analysis (Scott,
1965). Analyses isolate the roles played by intellectual abilities, motivation,
personality, group and organizational characteristics influencing creativity
and innovation (Sternberg, 1997; Woodman et al., 1993). Another thread
focuses on the conditions that enhance or detract from its exercise, the
importance of challenge, autonomy, resources, diversity and organizational
support (Amabile et al., 1996). Creativity may be destroyed by close moni-
toring and require a degree of autonomy and experimentation; or there may
be too much creativity and insufficient discipline. Debate also focuses on
what constitutes creativity, how it may be identified, whether it plays differ-
ent roles in different contexts or ‘problem types’; whether there are different
types of ‘creativity’ (Unsworth, 2001).
Other analyses focus on the processual and embedded nature of the
creative process (Csikszentmihaly, 1988). This is supported by analyses in
creative industries. Tschang (2005) outlines the creation of interactive
computer games, illustrating how concurrent development with multi-
functional teams and strong project leadership is disciplined by testing and
milestones. Tschang and Szczypula’s (2006) analysis of game design demon-
strates how inspired ideas become ‘recombined’ and evolve until they
become embedded ideas that can be worked upon and adapted. The idea of
‘creativity’ being an embedded process highly contingent on the context in
which it develops is further reinforced by Banks et al.’s (2002) analysis of new
media firms. In this respect, Moeran’s article (this issue) is illustrative as he
demonstrates how creativity is produced through the in situ negotiation of
tacit understandings, the product of a spatially embedded encounter.
But who are the creative people? Simonton’s (2004) study reveals
scientists evaluate the creativity of peers by what they do. Those regarded
as highly creative are prolific in publishing and citation scores are seen as
indicating people who would make/had made significant ‘breakthroughs’.
Hence, creative people are those at the centre of a set of activities, referred
to by others and carry the status of success as defined by the in-group. An
alternative view (e.g. Burt, 2004) is of creative people as marginal. They are
at the intersection between social groups, able to pick up, transfer and adapt
ideas and practices, thereby creating new ways of understanding, acting or
new creative products. Rather than being exemplars, they are transgressive;
their actions not bounded by the performance rules of the community. The
idea of the ‘lone genius’, of creativity derived from the fevered brow of the
946 Human Relations 62(7)

solo performer in a metaphorical world of their own (Montuori & Purser,

1995), straddles both Simonton and Burt’s views. They are experts and
exemplary of their group, but rather than being rule followers, they break
and reset the rules for others to follow. The idea of the lone genius is criti-
cized as a myth (Montuori, 2003) in that creativity, whilst still combining
exemplary performance and rule resetting, takes place in relation to a
community of practitioners and a social context that facilitates it (Amabile
et al., 1996). Creative activities entail interaction within and outside the
group or community (Heinze & Bauer, 2007), challenging, extending and
adapting ideas and practices, dealing with and embracing the unexpected
(Oliver & Roos, 2003). (We turn below to the importance of social networks
functioning in creative endeavour.)
The focus on creativity, however, takes us away from our emphasis on
intellectual capital. For creative ideas to function as capital their worth must
be recognized, they must be capable of being traded (for economic or
symbolic capital), otherwise they remain creative ideas. One of the greatest
difficulties lies in judging which creative idea is destined to be successful and
worth backing. Elsbach and Kramer’s (2003) analysis of film production
illustrates how judgements to assess the creative pitch of unknown others are
conditioned by prototypes of creative or uncreative people and categor-
izations of relationships.
As with any intangible asset, there are difficulties in valuing intellec-
tual capital; hence the problems of accessing finance so characteristic of the
creative industries. They pose challenges for models based on assets and
physical property: ‘there is no collateral for an idea’. Difficulties of estimat-
ing risk lead to a range of portfolio financing systems (Dempster, 2006;
Vogel, 2007). Once proved, ideas are supported, for example, TV franchises
where ‘formats’ provide major returns through licensing and reproduction
rights. Securing copyright and intellectual property rights (IPR) is a vital
element of business models (recognized in the US definition of creative
industries as ‘copyright industries’). Intellectual capital must be rendered into
a form of property that can then be protected and traded as any other. Copy-
right thus acts as monopoly rent. In an era of easy free access, however, it is
difficult to secure respect for and recognition of IPR. (There is of course the
need to distinguish between authors’ and owners’ rights.) Complexities of
distribution make copyright collecting services difficult, as is identifying the
agency held responsible for infringement. Persuading consumers to finance
creativity generates a variety of responses, from voluntary solutions to legis-
lation ensuring copyright enforcement. Examples include digital rights
management (DRM), licensing deals (e.g. You Tube and British Copyright),
and international agreements through the World International Property
 Townley et al. Managing in the creative industries 947

Organization (WIPO). For some, demands to secure intellectual property

rights are dismissed as a faith-based policy. The model of physical property
as private and excludable is seen as outdated for essentially a network-based
creation and production system. The decentralized market place for cultural
production is the new ‘reality’ that has to be adapted to rather than fought.
Rather than charging premiums for access, the focus should be on access-
based services or secondary markets, for example, music artists turning to
live gigs, or new markets offered by economies of scale (Anderson, 2006).

Social capital

Social capital has a variety of meanings (Adler & Kwon, 2002). Bourdieu
uses it to indicate the actual and potential resources that can be mobilized
through membership of social networks of actors and organizations (Anheier
et al., 1995; Bourdieu, 1986b; Bourdieu & Wacquant, 1992). Social capital’s
role in the development of intellectual capital has been used to illustrate how
firms are better than markets in creating and sharing intellectual capital
(Nahapiet & Ghoshal, 1998). Barnatt and Starkey’s (1994) analysis of the
moves to flexible specialization in the UK TV industry and its impacts on
labour force training and product quality reinforce this. Similar issues have
been identified in the US film industry (Christopherson & Storper, 1989).
Perretti and Negro (2007) also illustrate how Hollywood benefitted from the
combination of newcomers and old timers in film genre innovation. Both film
and TV, however, have undergone major transformations from hierarchy to
market, from large-scale bureaucracies to a multitude of micro-organizations
and SMEs reliant on networks for commercial success.
The importance of networks within the creative industries is well docu-
mented. Haunschild (2003) illustrates the importance of social capital and
social networks in ensemble production in German theatre. Skilton (2008)
notes how breaking into elite Hollywood projects is aided by familiarity
(through family or work relationships) and similarity (in individual charac-
teristics). Uzzi’s (1997) work in fashion production points to the benefits of
local networks for flexible production required by this industry. Uzzi and
Spiro’s (2005) analysis of Broadway shows how the financial and artistic
performance of musicals is enhanced by the connectivity of a ‘small world’
network, the enlargement of which has serious repercussions for overall
success. The value of the embedded nature of organizations for innovative
production is identified by Hargadon and Sutton’s (1997) analysis of the
design agency IDEO, where networks and the embedded knowledge of differ-
ent industries support its role as technological broker. Delmestri et al. (2005)
948 Human Relations 62(7)

illustrate how in film accessing networks of producers and distributors can

secure commercial success, while networks of directors, screenwriters, etc.,
secure artistic merit; thus satisfying the twin demands of artistic and
economic success. What these studies emphasize is the importance of social
networks, network ties and configurations conditioning access, referrals, the
timing of information and, ultimately, the success of creative work (Perry-
Smith & Shalley, 2003). Antcliff et al. (2007), however, illustrate how
networks differ according to whether they are open or closed. While they
might function benignly for support and cooperation, open networks can be
used for individual competitive advantage. Equally, Davenport (2006) guards
against a naïve view of project-based employment leading to some form of
community. She illustrates how within flexible specialization people follow
highly specialized hierarchical careers, similar to the old studio system, with
few possibilities of breaking out of this. The relative strength of weak ties is
thus contested.
A slightly broader focus highlights the inter-relationship between
creativity and location found in the concentration of occupations in cities,
for example, Currid’s (2007) examination of artists in New York City. The
co-location of labour pools emphasizes the importance of spatial proximity
in building up a network of weak ties. The crossover between different art
worlds contributes to the lowering of transaction costs and accessing gate-
keepers. It facilitates the overlap of art forms as graffiti artists morph into
clothing design and music. Occupational concentration contributes to
flexible career paths and symbiotic peer review. The social milieu, night life,
industry events, and in situ interactions emphasize the importance of the
social nature of how things get done, raising the basic question of where
work takes place. ‘Going out’ becomes part of the job, an opportunity to test
out what is popular and a source of market intelligence. Social life deter-
mines work life and vice versa. The downside of this, however, is an
incestuous self-referencing and irrelevance. Clustering and spill over effects
highlight the importance of key cities acting as the focal point for creative
production (Scott, 1999). Los Angeles, New York, Paris, Milan and Tokyo
are ‘global’ cities, functioning as locations for a dense network of producers
and complex local labour markets, promoting a complex cross-over between
cultural sectors producing, for example, in Los Angeles, a ‘multi sector image
producing complex’.
Organizationally, networks are contrasted with hierarchies and
markets. In much of the literature, networks are assumed to have virtues that
are systemically eliminated, or at least impossible to sustain, by hierarchy.
Networks are open, dynamic, adaptive, and their associative nature treats
expertise as an individual and shared asset. Where hierarchy relies on
 Townley et al. Managing in the creative industries 949

command and control, the organizing imperatives of networks are trust,

mutuality and reciprocity. The disciplinary costs of networks are minimal or
highly diffused; rewards and sanctions more subtle, continuously imposed
by network members. Individual competence, behaviour and motivations are
constantly displayed, monitored and evaluated by peers rather than scruti-
nized through market mechanisms or the rule-based hierarchies. The essen-
tially voluntary, associational nature of networks generate higher levels of
commitment, are open and inclusive, providing psychological rewards
beyond hierarchical organization.
There are some difficulties with the new economic sociology of
networks, however, not least the way the term can apply to virtually any
social domain and from individuals to institutions to corporations. (The
impact of the Internet further complicates this issue.) In discussions of the
creative industries, ‘network’ refers to the coping mechanisms of individuals
inside organizations, structures used to cope with uncertain labour markets,
or as a type of informal social organization for effective production in
volatile, project-based sectors. ‘Latent organization’, for example, has been
proposed as the spontaneous, implicit division of labour generated by
production crews in film and television (Starkey et al., 2000). Moreover, it
is relatively durable, draws on several occupations, and mobilizes across and
through markets, hierarchies and networks. It thus mobilizes the shared, tacit
knowledge of producers, directors and production crews and overcomes the
necessarily incomplete contractual terms typical of film and television
(McKinlay & Quinn, 2007; Sydow & Staber, 2002). ‘Latent organization’ is
a concept which addresses how efficient, high quality production is made
possible in such a context, especially given the fragmentation of these
industries. Insisting that the categories of market, hierarchy and network are
inadequate to explain the sociality of such cultural production is a signifi-
cant gain. Nevertheless, there are three difficulties we would highlight.
First, ‘latent organization’ is not linked to specific conjunctures,
locations, or ‘generations’ of broadcast professionals. Temporally, it was a
concept coined in the immediate aftermath of the deregulation of British
broadcasting. The new independent sector was populated by companies and
crews formed by experienced individuals leaving the main commercial and
public sector broadcasters. Such individuals deployed the same protocols and
work organization in production, for example, a director’s readiness to
involve experienced crew in aesthetic as well as technical decision-making.
In important respects, then, ‘latent organization’ was born of a shared back-
ground, deep training in specific occupations, and socialization into bureau-
cratic and highly union-regulated broadcast organizations (Tempest et al.,
2004). The demise of these systems from the second half of the 1980s
950 Human Relations 62(7)

included the disintegration of the industry’s training system. We understand

something of the impact of reduced training on the technical skills base of
film and television, but have no studies of the impact on tacit skills and
shared expectations of broadcast professionals, or how this has altered the
dynamics of ‘latent organization’.
Second, how does the ‘latent organization’ vary between places and
sectors? Is it easier to mobilize in a metropolitan location than in spatially
disaggregated and outsourced production linked through common software
and project management, for example, new media, computer games or
computer-generated imagery? The importance of place, often neighbour-
hoods, in supporting the emergence of the new media sector illustrates their
bringing together individuals, firms and techniques that permit the rapid
diffusion and evaluation of structures and practices while avoiding enclosure
by particular firms (Grabher, 2002; Pratt, 2002). This was rapidly followed
by rationalization and the shift to more managed organizations as firms
established intellectual property rights over specific techniques or services
(Lash & Wittel, 2002; Ross, 2003). Networks and latent organization are
neither necessarily nor naturally the organizational mode for creative
industries but socially constructed responses to contingent economic and
social pressures.
Third, ‘latent organization’ is depicted as a free good, an asset whose
value is realized during production. However, if we link ‘latent organization’
to the social networks used to offset labour market uncertainty, it must be
acknowledged that certain occupations or individuals are better placed to
access co-workers through markets than through hierarchies. This may be
linked to collective and individual career paths, to complex inter-locking
networks based on family or friendship ties as much as employment histories.
One man’s network may well be another woman’s old boys’ club (Dex et al.,
2000). Latent organizations do not rely solely on a single mode of co-
ordination but use hybrids of trust, contract and hierarchical resource
allocation (Bechky, 2006; Manning, 2007; McKinlay, 2009). Wijnberg and
Ebbers (this issue) provide a glimpse of the empirical and theoretical
complexities of the relationship between contracts and social networks in
Dutch film production. Contracts are not just incomplete economic
exchanges but are used strategically by individuals to enter, consolidate, or
extend their role in specific ‘latent organizations’ (Caves, 2000). A lower
salary on one project can be traded for a production credit and is an invest-
ment in reputation; the ability to construct a project team can enhance future
sponsorship; going beyond contract serves as a bridge to a forthcoming
project (Putnam, 2000). This is the key distinction between social networks
and latent organization. Social networks remain largely abstract and
temporally open-ended, their rewards and sanctions: trust and reputation.
 Townley et al. Managing in the creative industries 951

The profound uncertainty about personal reputation (Blair, 2001), with the
recognition that this is a vital currency in project-based industries, is a central
feature of occupational cultures in the creative industries. Reputation cannot
be banked but exists only insofar as it is transacted. Conversely, latent
organization requires deliberate choices by individuals about short and
medium-term economic returns to certain behaviours, particularly
professional competence and good citizenship. It is predicated on an
appraisal of current and future projects and their value in economic and
reputational terms.
The creative industries are far from unique in their reliance on tempor-
ary organizations to combine flexibility with the coordination of a complex
division of labour, as construction and shipbuilding testify. With the frag-
mentation of TV and film production, creative labour no longer has an
organizational buffer against the inherent risk and uncertainty of project-
based employment. Rather, risk has been absorbed by individuals as the
necessary corollary, and cost, of their occupation. Indeed, the passionate
endorsement of high employment risk is a defining characteristic of the
identity of creative workers.

Cultural and symbolic capital

Bourdieu identified the term cultural capital in the early 1960s when working
in the sociology of education (Bourdieu & Passeron, 1997). His interest lay
in the role of culture in social relations of domination and its reproduction
through these means. Bourdieu identifies structures of domination in all areas
of life, preferences for cultural and creative products, music, food, sports, etc.
Often dismissed as ‘superficial’, preferences or tastes are inextricably inter-
twined with material positions and class. Homologies of life style choices,
between art, music, etc., form the foundation of distinction and stratification
(Bourdieu, 1986b). ‘Taste’ becomes a mark of distinction (Zukin & Maguire,
2004).1 The consumption (in its broadest sense) of creative products is a
process of representation. As important symbolic goods, they engage the
individual in acts of communication, instantiating social relationships. An
appreciation of creative products involves much more than the direct and
immediate apprehension of the work. It depends on ‘cultural competence’,
the ability ‘to decode that which is encoded’, ‘. . . situat[ing] the work of art
in relation to the universe of artistic possibilities of which it is a part’
(Bourdieu, 1993: 22). The ability to do so depends on one’s cultural capital.
The latter has three forms: the long standing dispositions and habits derived
from socialization; the accumulation of valued cultural objects; and the
education and knowledge that is acquired in pursuit of functioning within a
952 Human Relations 62(7)

particular field. It is accessed through family, peer and formal education.

Cultural capital allows us to recognize the important role played by the
audience or consumer of creative goods. The work that they engage in in
decoding its value and significance recognizes the audience/consumer as a
‘co-creator’ of cultural content (a role increasingly enhanced with the
internet, mobile and digital media). Differences in cultural capital, and the
distinctions and stratification that this supports, also form the basis of
markets, market segmentation and product differentiation.
Cultural capital is closely allied to symbolic capital, any property
recognized by those in the field as having value. Symbolic cultural capital is
thus the capacity to define and legitimize cultural and artistic values,
standards and styles (Anheier et al., 1995). It determines ‘what counts’ or
what ‘is at stake’ within a particular field. For example, Peterson (2005)
illustrates how ‘authenticity’ functions as symbolic capital for those involved
in the production of country music, as actors manipulate it as a means of
enhancing country music’s appeal. Symbolic capital highlights the function
of cultural intermediaries whose role it is to ‘translate’ the significance of
cultural goods. The role of the critic in mediating artistic appreciation, for
example, influences the assessment of cultural production (Beilby et al.,
2005). Baumann’s (2001) work illustrates how, through the development of
TV, increased secondary education, director-based production, film schools
and their ties to university, the perception of film shifted from being a form
of entertainment to becoming a form of art, leading to the role for critics
and the development of a film critics’ discourse. Wijnberg and Gemser (2000)
illustrate the shifting institutional factors affecting the relative balance of
the French Academy and independent agents and collectors leading to
Impressionist painting achieving artistic status. Anand and Jones (2008) and
Anand and Watson (2004) provide overviews of how the Booker Prize and
Grammys function to enhance symbolic capital in the field.
Cultural and symbolic capital are not only mechanisms through which
the significance of creative goods is mediated, they also shape identities. As
McLeod et al. (this issue) illustrate cultural capital is heavily influenced by
background, inscribing identity, career access and progression. Only once
structural obstacles have been negotiated may it be traded within creative
environments for benefit. Subjectivities are created and fashioned through the
cultural and symbolic capital attached to creative goods, the latter active in
shaping understandings of identities, ethnicity, gender, etc. It is not just the
consuming subject that engages these capitals in the production of identity, so
too does the producing subject. Storey et al. (2005) examine the extent to
which freelance employees adopt the motif of the ‘enterprising self’ as a way
of accommodating their insecurity in the labour market. Nixon and Crewe
 Townley et al. Managing in the creative industries 953

(2004) identify how ‘success’ in advertising depends on the ability to decode

the social markers of status and master the requirements of display. Work
identities, maintained on and off the job and enforced through compulsory
networking, reinforce the importance of self-investment. Equally, Neff et al.’s
(2005) analysis of fashion and new media employees in ‘cool’ jobs illustrates
the high investment entailed in the production of self. Wright’s (2005) work
describes how bookshop employees work to maintain an identity of their
being ‘other than’ retail employees because they deal in symbolic goods. The
article by Elsbach (this issue) illustrates how toy car designers develop and
seek to affirm professional creative identities. Through expressing ‘signature
styles’ they seek to achieve a ‘name’ and entry to an elite group. In this they
are in dialogue not only with production companies and consumers, but also
peers and experts. By gaining and using symbolic capital they have become
personally identified with the product and the project.
As what people do creatively is intimately related to who they are, their
identities, some identify creative people as a category apart: the ‘creatives’
(Caves, 2000). This line of research analyses characteristics and attributes, for
example, creativity’s links to personality characteristics such as heightened
extroversion or neuroticism (Joy, 2008). Other studies correlate trauma
experiences, dissociation, fantasy-proneness and affective states with creative
identities (Thomson et al., 2009). Thomson et al. (2009) explore the con-
nections between these factors and two categories of creatives: ‘generators’
(e.g. writers, composers and designers); and ‘interpreters’ (e.g. directors,
actors, singers and dancers). Both groups had lower affective variability and
greater dissociation than the ‘norm group’ although interpreters had greater
dissociation than generators. In what is perhaps an extreme example of the
urge to ‘explain creativity’ by reducing it to stable predictive individual
indices, cognitive scientists sought to produce computer-based models of
creative action, reproducing it as decision-making governed by an algorithm.
Vempala and Dasgupta (2007) produced a computational model to predict
the decisions made by blues guitarist Stevie Ray Vaughan while improvising.
Testing the model on a number of ‘scenarios’, happily, the model predicted
Stevie Ray’s decisions with only ‘a limited degree of accuracy’.
An alternative line of research has regarded identity as constructed
dialogically as people interact with their social group, context and reflect
inwardly (Shotter, 2006). As people seek to construct and maintain a story of
themselves that enables them to make sense of who they are and what they
do, agency in identity formation is stressed (Sveningsson & Alvesson, 2003).
Hence, taking on and growing into an identity as a creative person is a process
of symbolic meaning making, as is developing a view of the self as uncreative
(Petkus, 1996). For example, College (1994) traced the significance of Salsa
954 Human Relations 62(7)

dance in Puerto Rican music and identity, and in Nuyorican identity. The
Nuyoricans, New Yorkers of Puerto Rican descent, do not adopt other factors
such as speaking Spanish, but have an affinity with Salsa as part of who they
are and what they do. College traces Salsa to the 19th-century dance music
‘danza’ and shows how, although these forms are adopted and integrated
into Puerto Rican musicians’ identities, they are non-indigenous and are
derived from abroad, Cuba in particular. It is not that there is something ‘in-
authentic’ about Puerto Rican music, but rather musicians have adopted styles
and adapted their meaning and become identified with the style. Identity is
formed through dialogue with the outside and developed by dialogue within
the in-group, and is sustained by and sustains the cultural and symbolic capital
that marks this.
This Constructionist perspective does not make the strong, stable
categorizations. Creativity can increase and decline over time, in different
circumstances and people can be more or less creative in certain settings. It
is thus neither possible nor appropriate to operate with mutually exclusive
identity categories such as ‘creatives’, ‘managers’ and ‘audience’. The issue
is to understand the roles and identities that people take on, and the
behaviours/performances that they produce. In this more processual perspec-
tive the question is not ‘what should managers do to manage creatives?’ (i.e.
how can control be exerted?). Rather, the focus is how different actors can
take on productive action in facilitating and producing creative outcomes.
Productive actions include organizing, creating, innovating, reproducing and
extracting value or reward. None of these activities is the sole preserve of a
category of actors such as ‘generators’, ‘interpretors’ or ‘managers’. Rather,
creative processes are frequently shared across what might be regarded as
identity-boundaries (Simon, 2006), hence capitalizing on what might be
regarded as mutual marginality (Burt, 2004). For example, Hunt et al. (2004)
explore the roles of orchestral conductors. These are revealed as entailing
skilful mastery in music, interpersonal interaction, leadership and market-
ing. An absence of any of these skill areas is likely to impact negatively on
the effectiveness of the conductor. Managing orchestral musicians requires
the conductor to have sufficient in-group legitimacy based on musical knowl-
edge and sometimes instrumental ability but this alone is insufficient without
the more generic ability to understand, relate to and lead others.
A common approach in creative organizations is to have ‘dual leader-
ship’, typically with an artistic leader and a managerial leader. Reid and
Karambayya (this issue) explore eight such situations in the performing arts.
Theoretically, one might expect such relationships to have high potential for
conflict, and this expectation was fulfilled in the study. Reid and Karambayya
highlight different forms of conflict focused on task, process and emotion
 Townley et al. Managing in the creative industries 955

and propose a psychodynamic conceptualization of the leadership relation-

ship. Hence, our concern in this special issue is not to work with reductive
categories of people, but to explore processes of managing and creating,
forms of interaction and engagement within contexts in which there is an
intention to be creative.

A research agenda?

What has been stressed so far is the importance of intellectual, social, cultural
and symbolic capital. Our contention is that much research into the creative
industries revolves around these different dimensions of capital (not that
these studies adopt Bourdieu as their theoretical foundation). The final
element of managing in the creative industries is the translation of these
capitals into economic capital. The relationship between the materialization
of creative production and its realization within an economic exchange is
divisive (Throsby, 2001). Creative products encompass two forms of value:
monetary and aesthetic. Two principles of legitimacy, centring on symbolic
and economic capital, are the twin poles structuring a field. Symbolic capital
is judged internally, influenced by the interests of participants in the field.
Economic capital introduces a heteronomous principle, that is, its criteria are
determined by those external to the field. To be ‘successful’, creative products
must satisfy the first; to be economically viable they must balance these twin
poles and encompass both.2
What is required is a detailed understanding of how these capitals are
accumulated, function within a field, are traded and translated. One route
to this would be to develop a more elaborate understanding of Bourdieu’s
work. Bourdieu uses the analogy of the game to illustrate his conceptual
framework (Lipstadt, 2003). Analysis involves an understanding of the
agents (players) in the field (game), their interests (commitment to the
field/game); the identification of the foundational value of the stakes (those
elements that remain unquestioned by players); the agents’ specific capitals
(‘chips’); fundamental capitals of the field (‘trump cards’); agents’ positions
in the field (place in the game); their orientation and strategies (their feel for
the game, style of play, position taking and stances) in the production and
reproduction of the field, as influenced by previous games played that have
conditioned agents’ outlooks and how they view the world (their habitus or
disposition) (Lipstadt, 2003). It would require an analysis of the interplay
between structure and agency, for while habitus and field give rise to dispo-
sitions and different forms of capital held by individuals, their use relies upon
the individual’s opportunity, motivation and ability (Ozbilgin & Tatli, 2005).

Table 1 Researching capitals
Strategies Intellectual capital
Acquisition • Working creatively
• New product/services
development
Maintenance • Knowledge
management/learning
organization principles
• Protecting intellectual
property rights
Enhancement • Client/user-designer
co-production
• Skills development
• Managing portfolio careers
• Managing creative teams
• Knowledge customization
Exchange • The creative pitch
• Franchise production
Social capital
• Identifying and negotiating
communities of interest
• Network analysis
• Clustering and creativity
platforms
• Inter-organizational
collaboration
• Exploiting digitalization for
network building and
enhancing consumer demand
• Creative cities support
• Labour market referrals
• Building markets
Symbolic & cultural capital
• Cultural access
• Outreach and education
programmes
• Product positioning
and placement
• Image/identity projects
• Education & training
• Marketing planning and
promotion
• The role of cultural
intermediaries
• Exchange programmes
• Developing brands
• New market development
• Evaluation and impact metrics • Divestment strategies
• Alternative income streams
956
Economic capital
• Accessing capital
• Business start ups &
business planning
Human Relations 62(7)
• SME policy infrastructure
and support
• Business support services
• Accessing credit facilities
• Developing sustainable
businesses
• Identifying new business
opportunities
• Accessing venture capital
• Growth strategies, mergers
and acquisitions
 Townley et al. Managing in the creative industries 957

The only ‘determinant’ is that individuals are predisposed to engage in

actions inclined to preserve or augment their capital, or to engage in actions
such that the distribution of capital can be to their advantage (Bourdieu &
Wacquant, 1992). Such a study would entail a multi-level analysis of the
production, circulation and consumption of creative goods with the recog-
nition that there are multiple mediators reciprocally influencing the meaning
of a creative work (Ozbilgin & Tatli, 2005).
This would be a very specific research agenda. We suggest, however,
that the identification of capitals and the processes of their acquisition, main-
tenance, enhancement and exchange, may operate as a general conceptual
framework to help structure an inter-disciplinary management research
agenda identifying a matrix of projects that can augment our understanding
of managing in the creative industries and all its ‘motley crew’, more generally
(see Table 1).

Acknowledgement

The authors would like to thank Henning Berthold for his help with handling
this special issue and Professor Gail Fairhurst for taking editorial responsibility
for any articles where there was a possible conflict of interest.

Notes

1 Distinctions are also the product or artefact of the measuring tool. Individuals are
more ‘coherent’ in surveys than in semi-structured interviews, for example (Zukin
& Maguire, 2004).
2 For certain creative forms, ‘success’ in one form may be sufficient in itself, for
example, ‘art’ movies; and economic success may consciously work against symbolic
success. This relationship is ambivalent and raises the issue of the relationship
between restricted and large scale fields of production.

References

Adler, P. & Kwon, S. Social capital: Prospects for a new concept. Academy of Management
Review, 2002, 27, 17–40.
Amabile, T.M., Conti, R., Coon, H., Lazenby, J. & Herron, M. Assessing the work environ-
ment for creativity. Academy of Management Journal, 1996, 39, 1154–84.
Anand, N. & Jones, B.C. Tournament rituals, category dynamics and field configuration.
Journal of Management Studies, 2008, 45, 1036–60.
Anand, N. & Watson, M.R. Tournament rituals in the evolution of fields. Academy of
Management Journal, 2004, 47, 59–80.
Anderson, C. The long tail. London: Random House, 2006.
Anheier, H., Gerhards, J. & Romo, F. Forms of capital and social structure in cultural fields.
American Journal of Sociology, 1995, 100, 859–903.
958 Human Relations 62(7)

Antcliff, V., Saundry, R. & Stuart, M. Networks and social capital in the UK television
industry. Human Relations, 2007, 60, 371–93.
Banks, M., Calvey, D., Owen, J. & Russell, D. Where the art is. Creativity and Innovation
Management, 2002, 11, 255–64.
Barnatt, C. & Starkey, K. The emergence of flexible networks in the UK TV industry. British
Journal of Management, 1994, 5, 251–60.
Baumann, S. Intellectualization and art world development. American Sociological Review,
2001, 66, 404–26.
Bechky, B. Gaffers, gofers, and grips. Organization Science, 2006, 17, 3–21.
Beilby, D., Moloney, M. & Ngo, B. Aesthetics of television criticism. Research in the
Sociology of Organizations, 2005, 23, 1–44.
Blair, H. You’re only as good as your last job. Work, Employment & Society, 2001, 15,
149–69.
Bourdieu, P. The forms of capital. In J. Richardson (Ed.), Handbook of theory and research
for the sociology of education. New York: Greenwood, 1986a, pp. 241–58.
Bourdieu, P. Distinction. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1986b.
Bourdieu, P. The field of cultural production. Oxford: Polity Press, 1993.
Bourdieu, P. & Passeron, J.-C. Reproduction in education, society and culture. London:
SAGE, 1997.
Bourdieu, P. & Wacquant, L. An invitation to reflexive sociology. Oxford: Polity Press, 1992.
Brown, S. Postmodern marketing. London: Routledge, 1995.
Burt, R.S. Structural holes and good ideas. American Journal of Sociology, 2004, 110,
349–99.
Caves, R. Creative industries. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2000.
Christopherson, S. & Storper, M. The effects of flexible specialization on the motion picture
industry. Industrial and Labour Relations Review, 1989, 42, 331–47.
Cohendet, P. & Simon, L. Playing across the playground. Journal of Organizational
Behaviour, 2007, 28, 587–605.
College, J.J. Puerto Rican music and cultural identity. Ethnomethdology, 1994, 38, 249–80.
Csikszentmihaly, M.A. Systems view of creativity. In R.J. Sternberg, The nature of creativ-
ity. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1988, pp. 325–39.
Currid, E. The Warhol economy. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2007.
Davenport, J. UK film companies. Creativity and Innovation Management, 2006, 15,
250–7.
DeFillipi, R. & Arthur, M. Paradox in project-based enterprise. California Management
Review, 1998, 40, 125–39.
Delmestri, G., Montanari, F. & Usai, A. Reputation and strength of ties in predicting
commercial success and artistic merit of the independents in the Italian feature film
industry. Journal of Management Studies, 2005, 42, 975–1002.
Dempster A.M. Managing uncertainty in creative industries. Creativity and Innovation
Management, 2006, 15, 224–33.
Department for Culture, Media and Sport (DCMS). Creative industries mapping document.
London: DCMS, 1998.
Department for Culture, Media and Sport (DCMS). Creative Britain – New talents for the
new economy. London: DCMS, 2008.
Dex, S., Willis, J., Paterson, R. & Sheppard, E. Freelance workers and contract uncertainty.
Work, Employment & Society, 2000, 14, 283–305.
Donald, J., Mitchell, L. & Beech, N. Organising creativity in a music festival. In B. Townley
& N. Beech (Eds), Managing creativity? Exploring the paradox. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, forthcoming.
Eikhof, D.R. & Haunschild, A. For art’s sake. Journal of Organization Behaviour, 2007,
28, 523–38.
Elsbach, K. & Kramer, R. Assessing creativity in Hollywood pitch meetings. Academy of
Management Journal, 2003, 46, 283–301.
 Townley et al. Managing in the creative industries 959

Gander, J., Haberberg, A. & Rieple, A. A paradox of alliance management. Journal of

Organizational Behaviour, 2007, 28, 607–24.
Glynn, M. When cymbals become symbols. Organization Science, 2000, 11, 285–98.
Gordon, W. Operational approach to creativity. Harvard Business Review,
November/December 1956.
Grabher, G. Fragile sector, robust practice. Environment and Planning A, 2002, 34,
1911–26.
Gulledge, E. & Townley, B. What is a creative field? In B. Townley & N. Beech (Eds),
Managing creativity? Exploring the paradox. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
forthcoming.
Hargadon, A. & Sutton, R.I. Technology brokering and innovation in a product develop-
ment firm. Administrative Science Quarterly, 1997, 42, 16.
Harney, S. & Hanlon, G. The cultural commodity and its labour process. Working paper,
Department of Management, Queen Mary University, London, 2008.
Haunschild, A. Managing employment relationships in flexible labour markets. Human
Relations, 2003, 56, 899–929.
Heinze, T. & Bauer, G. Characterizing creative scientists in nano-S&T: Productivity, multi-
disciplinarity, and network brokerage in a longitudinal perspective. Scientometrics,
2007, 811–30.
Hesmondhalgh, D. The cultural industries. London: SAGE, 2007.
Hesmondhalgh, D. & Pratt, A.C. Cultural industries and cultural policy. International
Journal of Cultural Policy, 2005, 11, 1–13.
Hirsch, P. Cultural industries revisited. Organization Science, 2000, 11, 356–61.
Hunt, J.G., Stelluto, G.E. & Hooijberg, R. Toward new-wave organization creativity.
Leadership Quarterly, 2004, 15, 145–62.
Jeffcutt, P. & Pratt, A.C. Managing creativity in the cultural industries. Creativity and Inno-
vation Management, 2002, 11, 225–33.
Jeffcutt, P., Pick, J. & Protherough, R. Culture and industry. Organizations and Society,
2000, 6, 129–43.
Joy, S.P. Personality and creativity in art and writing. Creativity Research Journal, 2008,
20, 262–77.
Lampel, J. & Shamsie, J. Capabilities in motion. Journal of Management Studies, 2003,
40, 2189–210.
Lampel, J., Lant, T. & Shamsie, J. Balancing act: Learning from organizising practices in
cultural industries. Organization Science, 2000, 11, 263–9.
Lash, S. & Urry, J. Economies of signs and space. London: SAGE, 1994.
Lash, S. & Wittel, A. Shifting new media. Environment and Planning A, 2002, 34,
1985–2001.
Lipstadt, H. Can art professions be Bourdieuean fields of cultural production? Cultural
Studies, 2003, 17, 390–419.
Manning, S. Transforming creative potential in project networks. Critical Sociology, 2007,
33, 19–42.
Marotto, M., Roos, J. & Victor, B. Collective virtuosity in organizations. Journal of
Management Studies, 2007, 44, 388–413.
Maxwell, R. The image is gold. Journal of Film and Video, 1991, 43, 29–45.
McKinlay, A. Making ‘the bits between the adverts’. In A. McKinlay & C. Smith (Eds),
Creative labour: Working in the creative industries. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan,
2009, 174–192.
McKinlay, A. & Quinn, B. Remaking management, work and industrial relations. Histori-
cal Studies in Industrial Relations, 2007, 23, 155–80.
McRobbie, A. British fashion design. London: Taylor and Francis, 2007.
Menger, P.-M. Artistic labour markets and careers. Annual Review of Sociology, 1999, 25,
541–74.
Miller, D. Consumption. London: Routledge, 2001.
960 Human Relations 62(7)

Miller, D. & Shamsie, J. Strategic response to three kinds of uncertainty. Journal of Manage-
ment, 1999, 25, 97–116.
Montuori, A. The complexity of improvisation and the improvisation of complexity.
Human Relations, 2003, 56, 237–55.
Montuori, A. & Purser, R. Deconstructing the lone genius myth. Journal of Humanistic
Psychology, 1995, 35, 69–112.
Nahapiet, J. & Ghoshal, S. Social capital, intellectual capital and the organizational
advantage. Academy of Management Review, 1998, 23, 242–66.
Neff, G., Wissinger, E. & Zukin, S. Entrepreneurial labour among cultural producers.
Social Semiotics, 2005, 15, 307–34.
Negus, K. Music genres and corporate cultures. London: Routledge, 1999.
Nixon, S. & Crewe, B. Pleasure at work? Consumption, Markets and Culture, 2004, 7,
129–47.
Oliver, D. & Roos, J. Dealing with the unexpected. Human Relations, 2003, 56, 1057–82.
Ozbilgin, M. & Tatli, A. Understanding Bourdieu’s contribution to organization and
management studies. Academy of Management Review, 2005, 30, 855–77.
Perretti, F. & Negro, G. Mixing genres and matching people. Journal of Organizational
Behaviour, 2007, 28, 563–86.
Perry-Smith, J. & Shalley, C. The social side of creativity: A static and dynamic social
network perspective. Academy of Management Review, 2003, 28, 89–106.
Peterson, R.A. In search of authenticity. Journal of Management Studies, 2005, 42,
1083–98.
Petkus, E. The creative identity. Journal of Creative Behavior, 1996, 30, 188–96.
Pratt, A. Hot jobs in cool places. Information, Communication & Society, 2002, 5, 27–50.
Pratt, A.C. Cultural industries and pubic policy. International Journal of Cultural Policy,
2005, 11, 29–44.
Putnam, D. Bowling alone: The collapse and renewal of American community. New York:
Simon & Schuster, 2000.
Ross, A. No collar: The humane workplace and its hidden costs. Philadelphia, PA: Temple
University Press, 2003.
Scott, A. The culture economy. Media, Culture and Society, 1999, 21, 208–17.
Scott, W. The creative individual. Academy of Management Review, 1965, 8, 211–19.
Shotter, J. Understanding process from within. Organisation Studies, 2006, 27, 585–604.
Simon, L. Managing creative projects. International Journal of Project Management, 2006,
24, 116–26.
Simonton, D.K. Creativity in science. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004.
Skilton, P. Similarity, familiarity and access to elite work in Hollywood. Human Relations,
2008, 61, 1743–73.
Starkey, K., Barnatt, C. & Tempest, S. Beyond networks and hierarchies. Organization
Science, 2000, 11, 299–305.
Sternberg, R.J. The nature of creativity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997.
Storey, J., Salaman, G. & Platman, K. Living with enterprise in an enterprise economy.
Human Relations, 2005, 58, 1033–54.
Sutton, R. & Hargadon, A. Brainstorming in context. Administrative Science Quarterly,
1996, 41, 685–718.
Sveningsson, S. & Alvesson, M. Managing managerial identities. Human Relations, 2003,
56, 1163–93.
Sydow, J. & Staber, J. The institutional embeddedness of project networks. Regional
Studies, 2002, 36, 215–27.
Tempest, S., McKinlay, A. & Starkey, K. Careering alone. Human Relations, 2004, 57,
1523–45.
Thompson, P., Warhurst, C. & Callaghan, G. Ignorant theory and knowledgeable workers.
Journal of Management Studies, 2001, 38, 923–42.
 Townley et al. Managing in the creative industries 961

Thomson, P., Keehn, E.B. & Gumpel, T.P. Generators and interpretors in a performing arts
population. Creativity Research Journal, 2009, 21, 72–91.
Thornton, P.H., Jones, C. & Kury, K. Institutional logics and institutional change in
organizations. Research in the Sociology of Organizations, 2005, 23, 125–70.
Throsby, C.D. Economics and culture. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001.
Townley, B. & Beech, N. The discipline of creativity. In B. Townley & N. Beech (Eds),
Managing creativity? Exploring the paradox. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
forthcoming.
Tschang, F. Videogames as interactive experiential products and their manner of develop-
ment. International Journal of Innovation Management, 2005, 9, 103–31.
Tschang, F. Balancing the tensions between rationalization and creativity in the video games
industry. Organization Science, 2007, 18, 989–1005.
Tschang, F.T. & Szczypula, J. Idea creation, constructivism and evolution as key charac-
teristics in the videogame artefact design process. European Management Journal, 2006,
24, 270–87.
Unsworth, K. Unpacking creativity. Academy of Management Review, 2001, 26, 286–97.
Uzzi, B. Social structure and competition in interfirm networks. Administrative Science
Quarterly, 1997, 42, 35–67.
Uzzi, B. & Spiro, J. Collaboration and creativity. American Journal of Sociology, 2005,
111, 447–504.
Vempala, N. & Dasgupta, S. A computational model of the music of Stevie Ray Vaughan.
Proceedings of the 6th ACM SIGSHI Conference on Creativity and Cognition,
Washington, DC, 2007.
Vogel, H. Entertainment industry economics, 7th edn. Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2007.
Warhurst, C. The missing middle. In B. Townley & N. Beech (Eds), Managing creativity?
Exploring the paradox. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, forthcoming.
Wijnberg, N. & Gemser, G. Adding value to innovation. Organization Science, 2000, 11,
323–9.
Woodman, R.W., Sawyer, J.E. & Griffin, R.W. Toward a theory of organizational
creativity. Academy of Management Review, 1993, 18, 293–323.
Work Foundation. Staying ahead: The economic performance of the UK’s creative
industries. London: The Work Foundation, 2007.
Wright, D. Mediating production and consumption. The British Journal of Sociology,
2005, 56, 105–21.
Zukin, S. & Maguire, J.S. Consumers and consumption. Annual Review of Sociology,
2004, 30, 173–97.

Barbara Townley is Chair of Management at St Andrews and Director

of the Institute for Capitalising on Creativity (www.capitalisingon
creativity.ac.uk), Scotland’s centre for teaching and research in the creative
industries. Professor Townley has worked at the universities of Lancaster,
Warwick and Edinburgh and the University of Alberta, Canada and has
published extensively in leading US and European management journals.
Her most recent book, Reason’s neglect: Rationality and organizing, was
published by Oxford University Press in 2008. Her research interests are
cultural and creative industries, particularly the negotiation of contrasting
institutional logics (business and artistic/cultural/professional).
[E-mail: bt11@st-andrews.ac.uk]
962 Human Relations 62(7)

Nic Beech is Professor of Management, University of St Andrews. His

research is mainly focused on the social dynamics of organizational life –
the intertwining of people’s identities, relationships and practices. He also
explores managerial practice and interaction and their impact on sense-
making in organizations. His current interests are in the interplay between
music production and management and organizational vitality. Nic is the
founding chair of the British Academy of Management special interest
group on Identity, co-chair of the Scottish Network on Organizational
Vitality and a member of Institute for Capitalising on Creativty, hosted at
St Andrews.
[E-mail: pnhb@st-andrews.ac.uk]

Alan McKinlay is Professor of Management, University of St Andrews.

He has written extensively on business and labour history, contempor-
ary industrial relations, and the philosophy of Michel Foucault. His most
recent book is Creative labour: Working in the creative industries, edited with
Chris Smith (Palgrave, 2009).
[E-mail: am53@st-andrews.ac.uk]