What does it take to retain and attract creative individuals in our fair city?
This is the topic of a panel discussion Wednesday 9/23 at Left Bank Books (downtown location, 7pm). The discussion, moderated by the Saint Louis American’s Chris King, includes panelists from Trailnet, Metropolis, and Wash U, as well as local community organizer Galen Gandolfi and STL alderman Antonio French. That’s a pretty decent place to start for a question that keeps plaguing our city.
This is not a new discussion thread. Cities all over the country have been discussing this heavily in the past decade, especially since Richard Florida’s ideas of the creative class began to spread when his book was published in 2002. In many ways, the idea of retaining and attracting creatives is a city’s recipe for success, just as failure to do so seems to result in a city’s demise.
I wonder if it’s truly that simple. I love that we’re talking about it, and that we keep talking about it. I hear variations on this theme discussed in conference rooms at non-profits, in schools, in coffeeshops, and in bars late at night. How can we innovate, change, and provide inspiration for ourselves and others? How can we lead the way? These are wonderful questions, and they are questions we should keep examining.
As a Big Question though, does this miss the mark? It seems to me before we can retain or attract other creative individuals to STL, we need to better identify the creative individuals we already have.
Years ago, I remember having this conversation with several people late at night sitting around a table full of Guinness at Mangia. There were artists, musicians, writers, a police officer, and myself. We examined it the creative question from every angle. How do we compete with other cities? How do we demonstrate the value of we have to offer (and I don’t mean just financially)? How do we get others to recognize all the great things we have going on in Saint Louis? Around and around, we all spoke, citing examples of other cities we’d lived in, places we traveled, things we read. That night, and in many other night’s conversations since, it always seems to circle back to the same conclusion: we do awesome things in Saint Louis; we just don’t talk about it.
Whether it’s modesty or lack of self-confidence, a who-gives-a-shit attitude or just a superior work ethic, we all keep plugging away with seemingly little need to discuss our work and our ideas. Maybe it’s because everything happens in bars that we think it doesn’t deserve credit. (And, at times it’s because everything happens in bars and we forget it even happened.) Sometimes I think we are just all so used to the conversation that we forget that something special is happening.
Ask any creative type in Saint Louis to name a few players, say 5 people they think contribute to the creative landscape of this city. Regardless of age, occupation, race, class, or neighborhood, I guarantee you there will be a lot of overlap. Now, take those names you heard mentioned and go ask a policy maker, a newscaster, or a business person if they know the creatives mentioned. You might get a couple, but most likely, never the twain shall meet. Or, try the experiment a different way-- Google the names of the individuals who keep coming up. You might find reference to them here and there, but it’s unlikely that you’ll get a true sense of them, unless perhaps someone has a great website to promote professional endeavors.
My point is, we all know who the creatives are-- we know where to find them and how to use them, but no one else does. We all live somewhat underground, conducting our lives in similar circles and not really worrying too much about the outside world. It appears as if nothing worthy is occurring or as if we claim no room to initiate others into our ranks. And with that attitude, it might be tough to retain other creatives who’ve not yet found the circle, and equally tough to attract people from other cities who don’t even know Saint Louis has anything more than an arch and a now foreign-owned brewery.
So, I love that we’re asking this question, but I wish we’d also talk more about how to identify the wealth we already have.
And hey, Next American City, thanks for hosting the event, but I wish it was a bit cheaper. You’re shutting out some of the very people you want in this conversation. Times are hard; $15 is a lot, even for great ideas. Still, I’ve no doubt it’ll be a great conversation. (see post script at bottom)
WHAT: St. Louis Livable City: What it takes to retain and attract creative individuals
(a panel discussion moderated by Chris King)
WHEN: Wednesday, Sept. 23 at 7:00 PM
WHERE: DOWNTOWN Left Bank Books (301 N. 10th; at 10th/Locust)
PRICE: $15** (includes subscription to Next American City and food); free to Next American City subscribers
For more info:
http://americancity.org/urbanexus/stlouis
**Post Script: Just saw a post from Chris King stating that no one would be turned away from the event for not having the $15. (Awesome and thank you.) Now, you have no excuse; go to the discussion.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Thanks, Schlafly
Beer + Community = Schlafly (FUN!)
I'm fortunate enough to travel a lot. And I like beer. Every time I go somewhere, I'm struck by how fortunate we are in Saint Louis. Not only do we have a thriving beer culture and many small breweries, but we have one bigger brewery that also helps take care of its own. Nope, I'm not talking about AB. Thanks, Schlafly.
For years, I've worked in the bar industry and in local arts education. Seemingly, these seem like two different things entirely, yet every successful business knows that everything is connected more intimately than it might first appear. For years working in the bar business, I've seen Schlafly support all kinds of events-- from kicking in a case of beer for a small private fundraiser to providing sponsorship for events at local restaurants. Unlike many other craft breweries, Schlafly has always been larger than its walls. We find it not just in taverns and bars, but anywhere something important is happening in the community. The next time you're at a non-profit fundraiser, look around. You'll likely see some Schlafly banners. Or watch the Schlafly bike team zoom by and join as they promote healthier lifestyles, alternative commuting, and just plain fun. You'll catch Schlafly beer at Mad Art events, at other local galleries, and at trivia nights around the city. Hell, I'm surprised they don't sponsor garage sales. (--They don't, do they?) We even have Schlafly in our biggest pass time, baseball-- and I love drinking big, tall glasses of Pale Ale instead of a light carbonated lager.
It's not just outside events that Schlafly supports-- they consistently give their own space to the community. When I worked at KDHX, Schlafly helped us out a lot by providing sponsorship and support, but also by providing space for events like the 48 Hour Film Project and other educational series. At the Bottleworks, they show free movies and have awesome lecture series. There's even a Farmer's Market every Wednesday, another testament to their commitment to sustainable food (as if their B'worx garden wasn't cool enough). Lone ranger, Brett Underwood, arranges the best music acts locally and regionally to perform weekends at the Tap Room-- most of which are free (with the others maxing out at a few bucks). This past weekend the Bottleworks hosted Art Outside, a gorgeous little air fair with jewelry, textiles, artwork, and music.
Point is, in other cities, breweries are not doing this. Sure, you'd be hard-pressed to go into any sporting arena and not find some local brewery signage. Maybe some other microbreweries are supporting an odd event here or there (and for that, I applaud them and encourage them to continue), but I have yet to see another brewery the size of Schlafly support their home town on the scale that we experience.
Like New Belgium Brewery before them, Schlafly takes their core values of community, appreciation for the arts, education, and environmentalism and uses them to the advantage of our whole city. When I think back over the past decade, every cool event I've been at, Schlafly was there as a sponsor. And the great thing is, you don't always know it. It's not always about the banner and making themselves known-- they just do what they think is right. And thankfully, they make great beer in the process.
So, on the eve of Hop in the City, thanks Schlafly. And thanks also to all your great employees who help you make it possible.
HOP in the CITY, Saturday, Sept. 19
Noon-5 PM @ the Tap Room
Tickets $35 at the door
(entry entitles you to taste the over 40 varieties of Schlafly brewed in the past year, plus entertainment)
I'm fortunate enough to travel a lot. And I like beer. Every time I go somewhere, I'm struck by how fortunate we are in Saint Louis. Not only do we have a thriving beer culture and many small breweries, but we have one bigger brewery that also helps take care of its own. Nope, I'm not talking about AB. Thanks, Schlafly.
For years, I've worked in the bar industry and in local arts education. Seemingly, these seem like two different things entirely, yet every successful business knows that everything is connected more intimately than it might first appear. For years working in the bar business, I've seen Schlafly support all kinds of events-- from kicking in a case of beer for a small private fundraiser to providing sponsorship for events at local restaurants. Unlike many other craft breweries, Schlafly has always been larger than its walls. We find it not just in taverns and bars, but anywhere something important is happening in the community. The next time you're at a non-profit fundraiser, look around. You'll likely see some Schlafly banners. Or watch the Schlafly bike team zoom by and join as they promote healthier lifestyles, alternative commuting, and just plain fun. You'll catch Schlafly beer at Mad Art events, at other local galleries, and at trivia nights around the city. Hell, I'm surprised they don't sponsor garage sales. (--They don't, do they?) We even have Schlafly in our biggest pass time, baseball-- and I love drinking big, tall glasses of Pale Ale instead of a light carbonated lager.
It's not just outside events that Schlafly supports-- they consistently give their own space to the community. When I worked at KDHX, Schlafly helped us out a lot by providing sponsorship and support, but also by providing space for events like the 48 Hour Film Project and other educational series. At the Bottleworks, they show free movies and have awesome lecture series. There's even a Farmer's Market every Wednesday, another testament to their commitment to sustainable food (as if their B'worx garden wasn't cool enough). Lone ranger, Brett Underwood, arranges the best music acts locally and regionally to perform weekends at the Tap Room-- most of which are free (with the others maxing out at a few bucks). This past weekend the Bottleworks hosted Art Outside, a gorgeous little air fair with jewelry, textiles, artwork, and music.
Point is, in other cities, breweries are not doing this. Sure, you'd be hard-pressed to go into any sporting arena and not find some local brewery signage. Maybe some other microbreweries are supporting an odd event here or there (and for that, I applaud them and encourage them to continue), but I have yet to see another brewery the size of Schlafly support their home town on the scale that we experience.
Like New Belgium Brewery before them, Schlafly takes their core values of community, appreciation for the arts, education, and environmentalism and uses them to the advantage of our whole city. When I think back over the past decade, every cool event I've been at, Schlafly was there as a sponsor. And the great thing is, you don't always know it. It's not always about the banner and making themselves known-- they just do what they think is right. And thankfully, they make great beer in the process.
So, on the eve of Hop in the City, thanks Schlafly. And thanks also to all your great employees who help you make it possible.
HOP in the CITY, Saturday, Sept. 19
Noon-5 PM @ the Tap Room
Tickets $35 at the door
(entry entitles you to taste the over 40 varieties of Schlafly brewed in the past year, plus entertainment)
Monday, August 31, 2009
Back in the Saddle, Saint Louis
Where have I been, you ask. It's been months and months of me neglecting my blogging duties. I know, I know...
Sigh.
I have been busy-- this could be an excuse, or it could be true. I was busy teaching podcasting and video to SLPS students. I was busy working for KDHX Community Media. I was busy helping loads of laid-off Saint Louisans prepare resumes. And then when I wasn't busy anymore, I skipped town.
And even now, I'm writing from Asheville. But, an important date has come and gone this past month during my Eastern American adventures. It's been ten years since I first moved to Saint Louis. And the whole thing has me thinking. Always being a fan of lists, I thought perhaps I'd thrown down some STL lists to mark the occasion, starting with my all-time favorite places in STL (even though some have also departed the streets of our fair city).
THE PARKMOOR (RIP)
Even though we were only able to cohabitate for few months, the Parkmoor has always been one of my favorite STL places. I used to go there with friends whenever I visited Saint Louis, long before I moved here. It was the feeling I loved-- that timeless feeling of dark wood and plants, of looking out as the rest of the world passed. There is something about a good diner or cafe that makes me feel like millions of small important moments have happened where I sit, and this is something that I love. I always feel like I am being let in on some kind of secret, even if I am not entirely able to articulate it all. The world seems slower, invariably a waitress will call you "hon", you eat some food-- probably the wrong kind of meal for the time of day-- and you move slowly back out into the world.
Every time I see that Walgreen's on the corner, I'm bitter. But at least I knew the Parkmoor and we had the chance to be friends.
THE CITY MUSEUM
Anyone who reads this blog or who knows me might be aware of the fact that the City Museum came to me as an epiphany one day early in the decade. I loved Saint Louis, but had never really found my kin here. Still searching for what I would do and where I would belong, I felt like it wasn't going to happen-- even after 2 or 3 years of trying to live here. And then I met Bradley and the path of my life seemed to change, at least personally. I began to make friends and find the conversations I'd been seeking. Professionally, however, it still wasn't clicking. I felt stuck and at a constant loss. But one little day at the City Museum changed all that.
I'd been there before several times, but the day Steve Smith brought backyard boxing to the City Museum on a sunny March day, I knew I was home. Here were my people-- not just the people I knew, but my vision of the city I wanted to live in. There were bands and belly dancers, fire eaters and ring girls. People drinking, kids running, dogs lazily stretching skyward. Schlafly a-flowin' as the city's most interesting writers and small business owners came out to battle each other in the ring. Bradley fought our friend Keith Savage that day in a relatively bloody fight, but as I continued to watch the fights and listen to the spectators, I knew STL was where I wanted to be, and I've been here ever since.
These days, the 8 story spiral slide isn't bad either, and is often enough reason for me to hit up the City Museum.
THE FRONT ROOM AT McGURKS
I know what you're thinking, "How the hell did this make it onto her list?" Little fact about me: I spent 6 years working at McGurks. I lived at Russell and Compton when I first moved to STL, and one week later, I got a job working 2 miles down the street at the corner of Russell and 12th, John D. McGurks Irish Pub. It was different back then-- still crowded and full of drunken college students on the weekends, but the weeknights belonged to the band, the regulars, and the staff. I spent several years sitting at that front bar or one of the high tops, listening to musicians who were flown in from Ireland play their tunes. I learned their names, learned the songs, and learned a lot about Ireland in the process. I also made a lot of friends. On a Tuesday or Wednesday night, just past 11pm, that front room would empty out leaving only those who actually cared about the music. The drink would flow, and sometimes the conversations. Going back, even now, it always has the power to feel like going home. It amazes me that in such a large place as McGurks that there are still moments of authenticity, and I have no doubt there always will be. Sometimes you just have to look a little harder, or go out a little past your bedtime.
Hoffman Lachance Fine Art
Few people remember HL Fine Art before it moved to Maplewood, but in my head it will always be in that little two story white brick building on Forsyth, down the street from the Barbizon Modeling Agency. I had just met the HL crew right before they opened-- back in the day when good things could still happen for me at Mangia after midnight. As pints of Guinness made their way around the table and the Good Griefs played, several of us sat around smoking cigarettes and talking about art in Saint Louis, where we though this city was headed, where we hoped it could go. Those first few shows at HL were exciting to me. Always a fan of art, I have never been a fan of art galleries. I find them closed off from the public, unapproachable, and to be honest, a bit snooty and pretentious. Maybe it's just because I like to look when it's quiet, think about it, and then discuss it all later when I have a better feel for what remains. HL was different though. From the beginning they were looking for emerging artists-- people who were exciting and provocative, people who were skilled technically as well as conceptually. They mixed up classical painters with pop art, mixed media and sculpture, art student drawings with regional masters. I loved the air of the whole thing. I loved going there. And I loved the conversations we'd all have out on that small front porch as we spilled outside into the heat and lighters were exchanged for cigarettes. I met great people those years HL was in Clayton. I still go to a show every now and then, but in my heart, it feels different. That gallery on Forsyth felt like the beginning of something and, empirically, it seems it was the beginning. Maybe I'm the one who changed, but when I think of my favorite places in STL, invariably I think of possibility, and the old HL always comes to mind. It's right behind my eyes like those late-night conversations as we all envisioned STL, resting but not too far from reality.
Sigh.
I have been busy-- this could be an excuse, or it could be true. I was busy teaching podcasting and video to SLPS students. I was busy working for KDHX Community Media. I was busy helping loads of laid-off Saint Louisans prepare resumes. And then when I wasn't busy anymore, I skipped town.
And even now, I'm writing from Asheville. But, an important date has come and gone this past month during my Eastern American adventures. It's been ten years since I first moved to Saint Louis. And the whole thing has me thinking. Always being a fan of lists, I thought perhaps I'd thrown down some STL lists to mark the occasion, starting with my all-time favorite places in STL (even though some have also departed the streets of our fair city).
THE PARKMOOR (RIP)
Even though we were only able to cohabitate for few months, the Parkmoor has always been one of my favorite STL places. I used to go there with friends whenever I visited Saint Louis, long before I moved here. It was the feeling I loved-- that timeless feeling of dark wood and plants, of looking out as the rest of the world passed. There is something about a good diner or cafe that makes me feel like millions of small important moments have happened where I sit, and this is something that I love. I always feel like I am being let in on some kind of secret, even if I am not entirely able to articulate it all. The world seems slower, invariably a waitress will call you "hon", you eat some food-- probably the wrong kind of meal for the time of day-- and you move slowly back out into the world.
Every time I see that Walgreen's on the corner, I'm bitter. But at least I knew the Parkmoor and we had the chance to be friends.
THE CITY MUSEUM
Anyone who reads this blog or who knows me might be aware of the fact that the City Museum came to me as an epiphany one day early in the decade. I loved Saint Louis, but had never really found my kin here. Still searching for what I would do and where I would belong, I felt like it wasn't going to happen-- even after 2 or 3 years of trying to live here. And then I met Bradley and the path of my life seemed to change, at least personally. I began to make friends and find the conversations I'd been seeking. Professionally, however, it still wasn't clicking. I felt stuck and at a constant loss. But one little day at the City Museum changed all that.
I'd been there before several times, but the day Steve Smith brought backyard boxing to the City Museum on a sunny March day, I knew I was home. Here were my people-- not just the people I knew, but my vision of the city I wanted to live in. There were bands and belly dancers, fire eaters and ring girls. People drinking, kids running, dogs lazily stretching skyward. Schlafly a-flowin' as the city's most interesting writers and small business owners came out to battle each other in the ring. Bradley fought our friend Keith Savage that day in a relatively bloody fight, but as I continued to watch the fights and listen to the spectators, I knew STL was where I wanted to be, and I've been here ever since.
These days, the 8 story spiral slide isn't bad either, and is often enough reason for me to hit up the City Museum.
THE FRONT ROOM AT McGURKS
I know what you're thinking, "How the hell did this make it onto her list?" Little fact about me: I spent 6 years working at McGurks. I lived at Russell and Compton when I first moved to STL, and one week later, I got a job working 2 miles down the street at the corner of Russell and 12th, John D. McGurks Irish Pub. It was different back then-- still crowded and full of drunken college students on the weekends, but the weeknights belonged to the band, the regulars, and the staff. I spent several years sitting at that front bar or one of the high tops, listening to musicians who were flown in from Ireland play their tunes. I learned their names, learned the songs, and learned a lot about Ireland in the process. I also made a lot of friends. On a Tuesday or Wednesday night, just past 11pm, that front room would empty out leaving only those who actually cared about the music. The drink would flow, and sometimes the conversations. Going back, even now, it always has the power to feel like going home. It amazes me that in such a large place as McGurks that there are still moments of authenticity, and I have no doubt there always will be. Sometimes you just have to look a little harder, or go out a little past your bedtime.
Hoffman Lachance Fine Art
Few people remember HL Fine Art before it moved to Maplewood, but in my head it will always be in that little two story white brick building on Forsyth, down the street from the Barbizon Modeling Agency. I had just met the HL crew right before they opened-- back in the day when good things could still happen for me at Mangia after midnight. As pints of Guinness made their way around the table and the Good Griefs played, several of us sat around smoking cigarettes and talking about art in Saint Louis, where we though this city was headed, where we hoped it could go. Those first few shows at HL were exciting to me. Always a fan of art, I have never been a fan of art galleries. I find them closed off from the public, unapproachable, and to be honest, a bit snooty and pretentious. Maybe it's just because I like to look when it's quiet, think about it, and then discuss it all later when I have a better feel for what remains. HL was different though. From the beginning they were looking for emerging artists-- people who were exciting and provocative, people who were skilled technically as well as conceptually. They mixed up classical painters with pop art, mixed media and sculpture, art student drawings with regional masters. I loved the air of the whole thing. I loved going there. And I loved the conversations we'd all have out on that small front porch as we spilled outside into the heat and lighters were exchanged for cigarettes. I met great people those years HL was in Clayton. I still go to a show every now and then, but in my heart, it feels different. That gallery on Forsyth felt like the beginning of something and, empirically, it seems it was the beginning. Maybe I'm the one who changed, but when I think of my favorite places in STL, invariably I think of possibility, and the old HL always comes to mind. It's right behind my eyes like those late-night conversations as we all envisioned STL, resting but not too far from reality.
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