July 11, 2005
COMMENTARY: Committing to culture | Why the creation of the Western Maine Cultural and Eco-Tourism Council matters to Maine
By Toni Seger
Founder, Western Oxford Foothills Cultural Council
Western Maine stole my heart long ago. From the dramatic vistas of Rangeley, in Franklin County, to the pastoral roads of Cumberland's rural lakes region and all of Oxford's spectacular mountains, loping hills and fruitful valleys, this is seductive scenery cradled in a challenging and unrefined landscape. Covering nearly three-quarters of the Maine/New Hampshire boundary, Oxford County's border towns fall mostly within the White Mountains and the loving shadows of the national forest. This is where I live.
At western Maine's core is the Caribou-Speckle Mountain Wilderness Region, Maine's only federally designated wilderness. Breathtakingly beautiful, this stunning environment has always been a magnet for creative, independent spirits. Though much has been lost since the American Revolution ended, hundreds of historic properties and unique sites still testify to its attractive power. Emotion aside, it now makes good economic sense for Maine to commit to the restoration and utilization of this priceless historic legacy and the generation of artists currently inspired by it.
When I arrived, in 1977, Evergreen Valley, Maine's worst white elephant, was still relatively new, and the conventional wisdom was that rural areas needed to reach outside themselves for economic development. Foisted on a minute community, Evergreen ˆ which was built as a ski resort, but pitched to residents as a community center, then marketed through time shares ˆ is a disintegrating relic of a failed policy ironically constructed alongside Caribou-Speckle, which was declared a wilderness study area at the first Earth Day in 1970. Hearings in the mid-80s concerning wilderness designation pejoratively referred to Caribou-Speckle as a forest museum. Some frustrated people declared, "We can't eat trees!"
Today, that paradigm has been deliciously reversed. Cultural research reveals a wealth of indigenous talent that, with support and encouragement, could contribute to economic sustainability while endlessly enriching quality of life. What's more, there is a hunger to develop it. Following that path, our trees can feed us while still standing tall.
The creative economy is real economics, but it's a different paradigm with different rules. Unlike traditional competitive economics, the creative economy runs on collaboration and mutual benefit. While traditional economics builds strength through rivalry, the creative economy strengthens by building capacity. A successful art gallery or craft store whets the cultural appetite for preserving history, restoring buildings and engaging the community in telling its story. Resulting community centers become forums for displaying and enjoying creative talent.
Once a community establishes a creative base, however humble, someone starts a café that draws artists, crafters, musicians, performers, writers, poets and health/healing professionals. Workshops spring up like mushrooms, imparting niches of knowledge that create networking opportunities and a nucleus for support groups. We're not talking large dollars here, but we are talking collaborative dollars. In the aggregate, the nonprofit and arts-and-culture industries can be a potent force in economic development, especially in the small, fabulously scenic and very rural towns of western Maine.
Where the traditional economy looks to lure larger players from outside, the creative economy assesses indigenous resources down to single individuals, and builds overlapping coalitions from within. When we take the time and make the effort to utilize these extraordinary resources, communities thrive as cultural meccas.
Further, an active cultural environment has been recognized as a critical factor in location decisionmaking for new economy workers and companies. Cultural economics can and should play a role in downtown revitalization, business attraction and, yes, workforce development. Arts education has produced impressive results whether with improved academic performance, reduced absenteeism and/or better skill building. The effect is especially dramatic among disadvantaged populations building self-esteem, creative thinking, problem solving and communication skills ˆ precisely what is needed in a 21st century workforce. (See "Champions of Change: The Impact of the Arts on Learning," a study by researchers from Columbia, Harvard and several other schools that is the gold standard for this topic.)
A Western Maine Cultural and Eco-Tourism Council could bring all these elements together and, in the process, bestow real benefits on an enormous mosaic of small players. The cultural tourist spends more and stays longer than the average tourist, often building his or her interest around an area's integrity. The cultural tourist explores performance and exhibit venues, seeks out ethnic food and area history. They want to leave with distinctive momentos such as quality handcrafts and locally produced antiques. If and when they relocate, they contribute to the unique flavor of regional culture without destroying the meal.
Our majestic west is a scenic, historic and cultural destination possessing its own mystique. With a widely dispersed population sprinkled across a myriad of small towns, we must collaborate on and unify our cultural face in order for our innumerable and richly distinctive voices to finally be heard.
Western Maine stole my heart long ago. From the dramatic vistas of Rangeley, in Franklin County, to the pastoral roads of Cumberland's rural lakes region and all of Oxford's spectacular mountains, loping hills and fruitful valleys, this is seductive scenery cradled in a challenging and unrefined landscape. Covering nearly three-quarters of the Maine/New Hampshire boundary, Oxford County's border towns fall mostly within the White Mountains and the loving shadows of the national forest. This is where I live.
At western Maine's core is the Caribou-Speckle Mountain Wilderness Region, Maine's only federally designated wilderness. Breathtakingly beautiful, this stunning environment has always been a magnet for creative, independent spirits. Though much has been lost since the American Revolution ended, hundreds of historic properties and unique sites still testify to its attractive power. Emotion aside, it now makes good economic sense for Maine to commit to the restoration and utilization of this priceless historic legacy and the generation of artists currently inspired by it.
When I arrived, in 1977, Evergreen Valley, Maine's worst white elephant, was still relatively new, and the conventional wisdom was that rural areas needed to reach outside themselves for economic development. Foisted on a minute community, Evergreen ˆ which was built as a ski resort, but pitched to residents as a community center, then marketed through time shares ˆ is a disintegrating relic of a failed policy ironically constructed alongside Caribou-Speckle, which was declared a wilderness study area at the first Earth Day in 1970. Hearings in the mid-80s concerning wilderness designation pejoratively referred to Caribou-Speckle as a forest museum. Some frustrated people declared, "We can't eat trees!"
Today, that paradigm has been deliciously reversed. Cultural research reveals a wealth of indigenous talent that, with support and encouragement, could contribute to economic sustainability while endlessly enriching quality of life. What's more, there is a hunger to develop it. Following that path, our trees can feed us while still standing tall.
The creative economy is real economics, but it's a different paradigm with different rules. Unlike traditional competitive economics, the creative economy runs on collaboration and mutual benefit. While traditional economics builds strength through rivalry, the creative economy strengthens by building capacity. A successful art gallery or craft store whets the cultural appetite for preserving history, restoring buildings and engaging the community in telling its story. Resulting community centers become forums for displaying and enjoying creative talent.
Once a community establishes a creative base, however humble, someone starts a café that draws artists, crafters, musicians, performers, writers, poets and health/healing professionals. Workshops spring up like mushrooms, imparting niches of knowledge that create networking opportunities and a nucleus for support groups. We're not talking large dollars here, but we are talking collaborative dollars. In the aggregate, the nonprofit and arts-and-culture industries can be a potent force in economic development, especially in the small, fabulously scenic and very rural towns of western Maine.
Where the traditional economy looks to lure larger players from outside, the creative economy assesses indigenous resources down to single individuals, and builds overlapping coalitions from within. When we take the time and make the effort to utilize these extraordinary resources, communities thrive as cultural meccas.
Further, an active cultural environment has been recognized as a critical factor in location decisionmaking for new economy workers and companies. Cultural economics can and should play a role in downtown revitalization, business attraction and, yes, workforce development. Arts education has produced impressive results whether with improved academic performance, reduced absenteeism and/or better skill building. The effect is especially dramatic among disadvantaged populations building self-esteem, creative thinking, problem solving and communication skills ˆ precisely what is needed in a 21st century workforce. (See "Champions of Change: The Impact of the Arts on Learning," a study by researchers from Columbia, Harvard and several other schools that is the gold standard for this topic.)
A Western Maine Cultural and Eco-Tourism Council could bring all these elements together and, in the process, bestow real benefits on an enormous mosaic of small players. The cultural tourist spends more and stays longer than the average tourist, often building his or her interest around an area's integrity. The cultural tourist explores performance and exhibit venues, seeks out ethnic food and area history. They want to leave with distinctive momentos such as quality handcrafts and locally produced antiques. If and when they relocate, they contribute to the unique flavor of regional culture without destroying the meal.
Our majestic west is a scenic, historic and cultural destination possessing its own mystique. With a widely dispersed population sprinkled across a myriad of small towns, we must collaborate on and unify our cultural face in order for our innumerable and richly distinctive voices to finally be heard.
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