 As the leaves start to turn and the air carries a hint of autumn, the performing arts world gears up for one of its most exciting and crucial times of the year: conference season. This is when artists, agents, and presenters come together to showcase their talents, forge new partnerships, and shape seasons at performing arts centers, festivals, and concert series. I just returned from the first of several large booking conferences (Western Arts Alliance) and I will be a workshop leader at another arts conference next month (Arts Northwest). In this blog post, we'll take a closer look at conference season, how business is conducted between agents and presenters, and what artists can expect. *** The Essence of Conference Season Conference season typically spans several months, with events and gatherings taking place in various locations, both physical and virtual. These conferences are organized by industry associations, such as the Western Arts Alliance (WAA), Association of Performing Arts Professionals (APAP) and the International Society for the Performing Arts (ISPA), to name a few. They serve as a melting pot for professionals from all corners of the performing arts world, including artists, agents, presenters, producers, and more. The Heart of Business: Agents and Presenters At the core of conference season lies the intricate dance between agents and presenters. Agents, representing artists or performing companies, aim to secure bookings and partnerships with presenters, who are responsible for programming performances in venues, festivals, and theaters. These meetings are where the magic happens, where artistic visions meet practical logistics, and where future collaborations take shape. Be mindful that presenters are booking for the upcoming season, not the current one, so there may be months or even year+ between when the conference takes place, the deal is made, and when the actual performance takes place (and you get paid). What to Expect as an Artist For artists, conference season is a whirlwind of opportunities and a chance to gain exposure on a broader scale. Here's what you can expect:
Conference season is an exciting and crucial period in the performing arts world. It's a time when artists, agents, and presenters come together to shape the future of performing arts entertainment. As an artist, conference season offers a unique opportunity to showcase your talent, connect with industry professionals, and pave the way for future collaborations. Embrace this season with enthusiasm, be well-prepared, and remember that patience and persistence can go a long way in building a successful career in the performing arts. Whether you're a seasoned performer or just starting out, conference season can be a game-changer for your career. *** Want help navigating conference season? Need help figuring out if it’s a good investment for your music career? I can help with that. Send me a message and we’ll set up a time for a free consultation.   Recently, I received a cold email outreach from a classical guitarist. The body of the email was short—just two YouTube video links with one sentence descriptions each, then the sign-off from this artist’s assistant (maybe manager?). I didn’t know who this assistant was or the performer.
It took me about 10 seconds to read, but I had no idea why this person had emailed me or what to do with it... so I deleted the email. How many performing artists unintentionally sabotage their chances of getting hired because they don’t stop to think about the person on the other end of the communication? There are a few key things I’ve learned in my time as Vice President of Operations for a music booking agency, career coach for performing artists, and arts nonprofit consultant: You will get better results if you 1) do your homework, 2) be prepared, 3) speak to the other person’s needs and 4) always have a call to action. *** When I was at the music agency, we would frequently receive inquiries from artists looking for representation. Unfortunately, many of these emails would just end up in an email folder to be reviewed later, if ever. Why? Because we only did a roster review about once per year, between performance seasons. Because 95% of the time, we only added new artists to our roster after one of our agents saw them perform or showcase live. Because, at the time, each person in our agency received 100–200 actionable emails PER DAY related to our current work. In short, email inquiries to get an agent (at least at our agency) were an ineffective strategy. (Though we did receive a very memorable one where the lady had badly Photoshopped her head onto supermodel bodies, which did garner some attention and laughs, but we would never take that artist seriously.) Generally speaking, the fact that we did not respond had nothing to do with the talent of those artists but with the time constraints and procedures in our own company. Whenever possible, I would acknowledge receipt of the artist’s email and let them know about our timing and process for review. That kind of communication, however, is very rare. But as an artist, how would you ever know that? All you experience on the other end of the email is radio silence. Especially if you’ve put a lot of time and effort into an email campaign, it can be very frustrating. Which brings me to my practical suggestions: 1) Do your homework. Take the time to learn about the person or organization you’re wanting to reach. Trust me, it will save you time in the long run. Have you reviewed the organization’s website to make sure that person still works there? Are they the correct person in the organization to handle your request? Are you spelling their name correctly? Are you using their correct pronouns? To go even further, IF this is an organization that you’re seriously interested in, is email the best way to connect with them? Or is there a better way to engage them to start a relationship (such as by networking with them in person at a conference)? This kind of research and preparation can be tedious, yes, but if you do it, your efforts will give you a clear edge. Otherwise, you risk turning off the very people you’re trying to engage. 2) Be prepared. Before I dive into this one, a little context and mindset reminder: Most artists feel disempowered when they do outreach, but it’s important to remember that as a performing artist, you are a small business owner. You are providing a service, and the person you’re reaching out to is either your direct client (presenters, venue owners, talent buyers) or someone you may want to hire as part of your team (in the case of an agent or manager). Some questions to ask yourself or research may be: What do you know about their business and business model? Do you know how you fit into it? In other words, what can you do for them? How would you make them money? Understanding your value within the creative economy can help you feel more equal in the power dynamic. Do you have all your ducks in a row to be ready to start working with them if they say yes? (i.e., an organized press kit with high-quality pictures, videos, and other marketing materials.) Being prepared and organized sends the signal that you will be professional and easy to work with. That goes a long way in this industry. 3) Speak to their needs. When you’re prepared and ready for the communication, whether in person or by email, frame your words in a way that speaks to their needs and centers their world (not yours), using their vocabulary ideally. This is a key for just about any kind of sales or marketing communication. What problem do you solve for them? How do you make their job or life easier? You may not be saying those words exactly, but if you know what they care most about, then you can speak to that need. Clearly state what benefit you are bringing them and why you think you’re a good fit for their venue or organization. Is it a mixed use venue, such as a bar, looking for bands to draw an audience? Then have the stats from your last several similar gigs and say, "When I played at x location, I consistently drew in X% more than the venue’s usual patrons, and the owner said the audience stayed significantly longer on nights I played." If you don’t have those stats or testimonials, ask for them. If you’re reaching out to potential agents or managers, you need to have some kind of self-represented touring history to prove you have a career for them to manage. They will be evaluating you based on how well they think they can sell you to their clients (likely bigger presenters/talent buyers). Having press testimonials, stats, high-quality materials, funding for touring, and a healthy audience or social media platform will all work in your favor. A lot of this is about being as prepared as possible, which will be self-evident if you have that in place. If you speak to their needs in the communication as well, it shows you understand their world and the interdependent business partnership you are inviting them to consider. 4) Always have a call to action. Chances are, the folks you are emailing are busy. Help save them time by telling them what to do next (in a nice way). Across many industries, this one piece of advice is universal: always have a clear call to action (CTA). In other words, what do you want them to do? Want them to book you? Get to the point about why they should, then tell them what action to take. Your CTA may be a button that says something like "Bring xyz to your stage" or "Book now" with a link that auto-generates an email. Or for a slightly softer call to action, say "Learn more" and link to your website, but be sure to also include appropriate contact information in case they want to hire you. Be careful to not include too many live links, otherwise your email will end up in their spam folder. In a competitive field, do everything you can to give yourself that extra edge. Don’t make the mistake of sending a pitch email without doing your homework, being prepared, speaking to their needs, or having a clear call to action. Otherwise, your email may end up deleted in 10 seconds, like the one in my inbox earlier this week. *** What has worked well for you when sending artist outreach emails? If it’s something you avoid or feels frustrating, what gets in your way? Leave a comment or message me directly! Cheering you on, Cheri  Prior to my 20-year high school reunion last fall, I pulled out my high school scrapbook. I found an interview of me in the school newspaper as a senior, about to graduate and pursue a career in the performing arts…
I see the picture of myself clearly: A lanky young woman with a brilliant smile and shoulder length brown hair, straight like the A’s on her report card. She has spent four years hyper-focused on building a resume to get into a good music school, thinking that was the ticket to her future as a professional singer. She did it wholeheartedly. Time outside of school was devoted to voice lessons, piano lessons, dance lessons, rehearsals for countless performances and even competing in a beauty pageant! The interviewer asked, “Why did you choose to become involved and pursue this as a career?” “Performing gives me joy and gives joy to others. What could be a better reason?” That joy fueled me, but I was ambitious, too. Film, media, and magazines showed me the shiny lives of celebrities as well as the starving-artist-to-success story. Even though I intellectually understood only a few artists reached that level, I was confident I would be one of them. Little did I know what the biggest cost would be…. I pursued a career in music as I think many of us do. I had talent, a love for music, and a dream. I was lucky enough to have people who believed in me, who saw my potential and supported me. They wanted to see my name in lights, too. My parents paid for all kinds of lessons and my basic needs, which provided the gift of time for all these pursuits. Like most kids, I didn’t have any real concept of what that all actually cost or what a gift that was. Again, I was (naively) convinced just getting into a good music school was my shoe-in for a professional career. When I was in college at USC’s Thornton School of Music studying opera, I did not learn much of the business side of music. The course of study was very technique focused to make us into the best possible performers, how to audition well, and be prepared when we were cast in opera roles. How the music industry worked wasn’t part of the general curriculum for my major, so I didn’t think it was necessary. The underlying belief was: If you’re good enough, talented enough, and work hard enough, then you’ll get discovered and everything will fall into place. Tactically, I was taught a narrow prescribed path: first you do this, then you do that, then with a dash of luck, a lot of hard work, you’ll have a career… but there are no guarantees. We did have masterclasses with working professional singers who would provide a little more insight into the lifestyle, but the advice felt very piecemeal. I remember at the time thinking, “Geez, that doesn’t sound very good. I’m not sure I really want to do that.” Immediately the whirlwind of internal commentary started: After investing so much time, effort and money, how could I possibly choose anything different? How could I disappoint everyone who’s believed in me and invested in me? It would be like betraying my own dream! When I graduated, it felt like a great accomplishment, but I honestly had no idea what to do next. I experienced a full-blown identity crisis post-college. My school support structure was gone. It was clear to me now a good music school wasn’t a guarantee for work or a career. I wasn’t even sure what kind of music career I wanted any more. I knew I still loved to sing. I knew I needed to audition to get work, but how do I find that? What did they say about agents again? All the standard young-adult-launching-into-the-real-world anxiety was really hitting me. I got an office job which paid my bills, but not much else. I learned my creativity tanked when I felt stressed about the rent. Then I had the brilliant idea to start a business that would pay for all my needs and give me plenty of time to do my music. Easy, right? I consumed a crazy amount of information and training on entrepreneurship. All along the way, I was pitched more and more programs and services: Get more clients! Earn your first $100K from home! Passive income! Sales, sales, sales!! Not to say that all these folks were selling snake oil; many I found very helpful in some way or another. Was there ever a conversation about return on investment (ROI)? No. Was there anyone who sat me down and said, “Do you have a solid idea for a business? Do you know how you’ll get capital?” No. When I focused on following the steps to “do it right,” it gave me a (false) sense of progress and purpose, but the success I envisioned always felt out of reach. Unknowingly, I had transferred my same mental habits and belief system about pursuing music to pursuing entrepreneurship. I felt disempowered and out of control. There were so many gatekeepers. Paying clients felt like ephemeral creatures. As the inevitable pile of rejections grew, I started doubting, thinking it was something wrong with me. I turned against myself when things didn’t turn out the way I thought they should. I kept searching for answers and solutions. Did I need a new domain name, a different tactic, or another $1,000 program on marketing? If I could just find the linchpin! Maybe if I contorted myself or my content just so, the right people would take notice and my dream would be fulfilled. It’s hard to admit, but I was an artist-consumer. I had an ambitious dream that fueled many of my purchasing decisions, but I didn’t feel like I had real authority over my own career trajectory. It was so much work and I was hustling so hard to start a business that would pay for my life, so I could finally do the thing that brought me joy in the first place. The biggest cost: I didn’t even notice the joy of performing started slipping away. I fully bought into my own judgment that whatever achievements I had in my career thus far, didn’t amount to “making it” in the eyes of the world (which seems to be nothing less than celebrity). This made me incredibly sad and unhappy. It wasn’t until several years later that I truly started to understand the general music ecosystem and the many, many options to participate in the music world. It didn’t have to look just one way. With the help of a career coach, I slowly started reframing what I judged as my past “failures” as meaningful experiences. I started to take a step back, to really think about what I wanted and why, to untangle my identity from my career. I started to think about my life as a whole and put my career in its proper place. For the first time, I gave myself permission to start exploring what success would look like and feel like for me, as I chose to define it. I wanted to feel joy from my singing again and I knew this healing work around my career was an important step. When I mentioned to my coach that I was feeling shut down to my own singing even though part of me really wanted to, he said he could understand exactly why…. “Because you are afraid of hating music.” I was shocked at his calm clarity about something that had evaded me for so long. “When you engage with music, it triggers those bad experiences, and you’re afraid if you keep going down that road, you’ll end up hating music and you couldn’t bear that. Work on uncoupling those bad experiences by saying to yourself ‘Yes, I have had painful experiences AND I love, love, love music.’” I immediately started crying. I do love music; I just hadn’t let myself feel it. I had built a wall up inside me to protect myself for all those years in an extremely tough industry. I had forgotten my response from that school paper interview: Performing gives me joy and gives joy to others. From that point forward, I started to take baby action steps to allow that love to flow again, reclaiming my music for myself. I chose to move in a direction career-wise where I felt more empowered, finally embracing ALL the entrepreneurial skills I’ve built over the years, while still serving the music and arts community I love. I don’t share this story to get sympathy. I share it to illustrate that the multitude of courses and programs teaching the how to’s of a creative career, don’t teach us tools to work *with* our artist nature. Those of us who pursue careers in the arts are probably sensitive people, otherwise we wouldn’t be effective artists. We’re told the moment we hit a bump in the road, “you need thick skin if you’re going to survive this industry.” But thick skin can cut us off the very sensitivity and joy that connect us to our creativity and move our audiences. I suspect many of us just become really good at numbing, ignoring, or hiding that it still stings. Instead, I believe we need to learn to become resilient—to have practical tools and support systems in place, so we can handle our big emotions in a healthy way, especially as we walk along a career path that is often uncertain and uncomfortable. And if you’ve moved away from a creative career because it felt too hard, because your priorities changed, the season of your life changed, or it just happened gradually, all of those are choices that don’t often get acknowledged as valid. Maybe it stopped being fun. Maybe when you saw the realities of the industry, you changed your mind. That’s okay, too. I see so many incredible artists doing good and contributing to their communities who, in deeper conversations, reveal they are unhappy because their career didn’t turn out the way they wanted—their dream unresolved inside of them. Let’s start to normalize the creative hero’s that keep their joy alive as the conductor of their church’s children’s choir, or start a nonprofit to improve access to the arts in their area, or the touring musician who now fights for music-friendly policy in their city. Success doesn’t have to look just one way. As an artist-business owner (vs. artist-consumer), you can choose what that means for you. Joy is now one of my business success metrics. And that joy is a much more sustainable fuel to move through the music world, at least for me. We don't have to suffer for our art. That's an old story. The experience of your music career internally is just as important as the external. When you reclaim your power and joy, your career will also be transformed.  This rarely happens, but I got carried away responding to a social media post recently.
In a nutshell, a local organization was posting a call for musicians to perform during a 4-hour time slot. So far so good. Then they said, “Unfortunately, we don't have the funds to pay any of the musical acts. But you get to keep 100% of your tips and we will promote you on [our social media.]” Also known as exposure. Now, I am pretty even-minded most of the time, but this got me riled up. I finally found the words I wanted to share (and maybe not directed at the people you would initially expect). Here’s what I posted, slightly edited and expanded…. There's a lot to unpack here. I think it's a conversation worth having in an ongoing way. My personal opinion is that expecting musicians to perform for free, for tips, or “exposure” is a culturally-accepted attitude that needs to change. Assuming musicians would agree to this kind of arrangement has the unspoken message, “I don’t think what you offer is worth paying for, but I want you to do it anyway. And you should thank me for giving you this opportunity.” Think of the full emotional impact of saying that to someone’s face. It’s devastating, right? You wouldn’t want someone to say that to you. That may not be the message the event planner intended, but it’s frequently the message received. Do this instead, event planners: If your organization really doesn't have a large budget, but you want music at your event, treat a musician just like any other business vendor or sponsor. Acknowledge the value and underlying benefits musicians would bring to the event and negotiate with them in good faith about the budget you do have. Unfortunately, after years of musicians being asked to perform for free, tips, or exposure, sometimes fed misinformation that this is the only way to “get discovered,” many musicians have internalized the message that their talents are worthless. Or worse, it instills a misbelief that they are worthless and sends them into a shame spiral. Navigating a career in music can be quite emotional, yet there is little to no training to learn how to handle situations like this. Musicians who are looking at this "gig" from feelings of financial scarcity and perhaps real need (i.e. "I need whatever cash I can get to make rent."), are basically in fight, flight or freeze mode physiologically. They are in survival mode– and we don't make great decisions from that state. I also think musicians don't always take stock of all the time, money, and effort they've invested into developing their talent and craft. For most of us, it's years and thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of dollars in private lessons, gear, practice time, competitions, schooling, ongoing education, plus years of experience actually performing and refining our craft. Think of it as self-funded capital you’ve put into your business. Your talents add real economic impact for the organizations that want you to perform. Music acts like a magnet and brings people in and keeps people at events and venues. While there are specific circumstances where you might choose to donate your time and talent, it’s not right for others to assume you would do so. An analogy might be: A chef (professional or otherwise) has invested time, money, and dedication to learn their skills. They feed people. They love to feed people. It takes time to put meals together. All the ingredients to make that meal cost that chef their personal money. When an organization asks that chef to bring their food and feed the people that come through that event, it’s commonly recognized that the chef is providing a service with inherent value (economically and personally). Depending on the relationship with that organization, that chef may well decide to donate their services and food to the event. They might be considered an in-kind sponsor and get those benefits accordingly. Musicians deserve to be treated with the same respect as other business owners. I’m sure there are many contributing factors over many years that have led to this generalized attitude towards devaluing musicians and why musicians buy into it.
No matter how this widespread mindset came about, we can work together to change it. If you're a professional musician, please don't perform for free, just tips, or exposure. It makes it harder for the musicians who are trying to charge livable artist fees and get sustainable income. Additionally, you (unconsciously) reinforce the idea that this way of devaluing musicians is okay... and it's not. You teach people how to treat you. Personally, I think many of us are tired of arguing for the value of our work, which because of the personal nature of our work, can feel like arguing for our own value. And that can really do a number on your self-esteem and mental health... especially after years and years. Now, I don't think we should shame others who want music at their events without paying them. However, I think we need to bolster ourselves as a professional music community, adhere to higher standards ourselves, and re-educate people and organizations who make unreasonable and unsustainable asks from musicians (who are self-employed small business owners). Or just say “no” politely if you're not up for a deeper conversation. If you wish you could have those courageous conversations, but feel uncomfortable doing so, or need help finding the words or confidence to do it, I would love to help. As you can tell, I feel very strongly about this topic! As a music and arts professional with training in psychology, and as a performer myself, I want to help change hearts and minds to start valuing music (and music professionals) more. We deserve better. We can change the narrative. Yes, broader society needs re-education, but musicians have to own their value, too... and arguably, first.  In late March 2023, I was a guest speaker for University of Colorado, Denver's class on "Music Cities'' (via Zoom), alongside Meara McLaughlin (MusicPortland's Executive Director). We shared about the unique aspects of the Portland music scene, music community, and what we're doing to make Portland a better place to be a music industry professional.
In a way, it was a pitch to these young professionals to come live, work, and play here. Come be part of our music ecosystem and community! First, I shared my professional background: I am an Arts and Nonprofit Management Professional with more than 10 years of experience in strategic planning, streamlining operations, and community outreach. I earned my Master’s degree in Psychology from the University of Santa Monica, where my thesis focused on helping performers overcome stage fright and develop other skills for peak performance. I also graduated from the University of Southern California’s Thornton School of Music, with my Bachelor of Music degree in opera vocal performance. After graduating, I was hired at Long Beach Opera, as the primary singer for their Educational Outreach program where I sang for 7 years, while also working in the nonprofit sector. In 2015, I went into arts administration and became VP of Operations for an LA-based booking agency with a roster of artists (from rock bands to classical string quartets to Global dance troupes), booking national and international tours. I’ve served on the advisory board of the Arts Council of Johnson County. I’ve also offered career coaching for performing artists. Last year, my husband and I moved to the Portland Metro area and got connected with MusicPortland. Over the last several months, Meara and I worked together to manage the Oregon Music Census, gathering data for the first-ever benchmark economic study for the Commercial Music Industry and Live Performance industries statewide. This study is another step to strengthen Portland as a music city and Oregon as a music state! “A Music City, by its simplest definition, is a place with a vibrant music economy,” according to IFPI in their 2020 report on The Mastering of a Music City. “There is growing recognition among governments and other stakeholders that Music Cities can deliver significant economic, employment, cultural and social benefits.” “Music Ecosystems” is an alternative term to refer to "Music Cities," in a more accurate and inclusive way. Personally, I think "ecosystem" also better reflects the interdependent nature and intersecting business models in the music world. For now, let's consider these terms interchangeable. The Music Cities curriculum, developed and taught by Professor Storm Gloor at University of Colorado, Denver since 2019, has students examine the development and enhancement of music communities, using as templates the music communities in the city of Denver, the state of Colorado, and other cities throughout the world (such as Portland). Plus in an advanced class, students explore how investment in a city's music economy can be beneficial to the development of both a city's physical and economic landscape. Finally, students can also learn how to use music to drive local and regional tourism strategies. This concept has growing interest, funding, and research support. Nonprofit, commercial, consulting, and government/municipal entities are all getting involved to put forward the idea that Culture means business and economic impact. In fact, according to a recent report released by the Bureau of Economic Analysis (BEA), “Arts and cultural economic activity accounted for 4.4 percent of gross domestic product (GDP), or $1.02 trillion, in 2021.” This was still a year where the industry was just starting to recover slightly from the COVID-19 pandemic, so I’d expect future reports to have much higher numbers. The Oregon Music Census and economic study also showed that specifically commercial music and live performance industries were a huge economic driver and warranted greater attention and funding by lawmakers as "emerging economic sectors." Portland's music ecosystem is a unique one. We have a myriad of independent venues, artists, and music businesses that make up Portland's vibrant commercial music scene. We also have the standard “legacy arts” you may envision when you hear the term arts & culture, such as the opera, symphony, and ballet. Recently the Executive Director of The Old Church, Constance Bracewell, described Portland's music ecosystem as a “coral reef.” So much depends on it, yet you only recognize the devastating after effects when it’s no longer there. Much of society learned that the hard way during the COVID-19 pandemic. Music is part of the intricate fabric of the ecosystem that makes a community vibrant and prosperous. Research data is now proving this benefit to society and that's very exciting. In other words, music is meaningful and economically viable. Investing in music (and musicians) means better business! It’s not expendable, nor a luxury. It struck me however, as I gazed at this Zoom gallery of enthusiastic music business students and put myself in their shoes... Were we really answering the real questions in their hearts and minds?
As much as any city has to offer, there are so many things to consider when choosing a place to live (hard information, plus personal preferences). This huge decision deserves nuanced introspection, but often is made impulsively, by necessity, or unconsciously. Still, sometimes serendipity swoops in and guides you intuitively. There's room for it all, but who do you talk to about this stuff? (Hint: A neutral guide asking you quality questions may be helpful, perhaps even more than family and friends.) I felt uniquely qualified to offer my perspective because I consciously engaged in that inquiry relatively recently, made a huge cross-country move, and have been relaunching my life and career in my new home. When asked by Professor Gloor, "What advice, from any lens you choose, do you have for our students?" I shared something I only recently came to understand, one that I wish I knew as a young music professional: Career is just one aspect of life. Your personal goals and aspirations regarding lifestyle are equally important (i.e. buying a house, being close to family, nature, quality of life, etc). My career coach, Ford R. Myers, taught me, "It’s Not About The Job; It’s About Your Life," which has made a huge difference in my career approach in my new city. My “mini commencement speech” included several more poignant points on being very honest with yourself about who you are and what you want, taking care of your mental health, and doing the inner work it takes to develop the resilience you need to go into (or stay in) the music business. VIDEO: What I Wish I Knew as a Young Music Professional Improving the quality of life for artists and other music industry professionals is something about which I am deeply passionate. There are so many interpersonal and business skills needed to survive and thrive in this relationship-based industry that simply are not taught frequently enough. All of this fuels my own advocacy, engagement, and career motivation at this point. I'm grateful to know about and join a much larger network of passionate individuals involved in music cities/music ecosystems on a global scale. With all the data now showing the positive impact and economic viability of artists and music industry professionals, let's make sure empowerment, career development, and personal wellness is baked into the entire music ecosystem. |
AuthorCheri Jamison is an Arts & Nonprofit Management Professional with over 10 years of experience in strategic planning, streamlining operations and community outreach. As a Renaissance woman with a diverse skill-set, Cheri is known for her ability to spearhead new initiatives and bring visionary projects to life. Categories |
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