Paducah Artist Relocation Program

Paducah Kentucky is a small town (pop. 27,000) halfway between St. Louis and Nashville. Like many small historic downtowns, it suffered when shopping malls gained popularity in the 1960s, and up until the 1990s had yet to rebound.

In 2000, the City--together with Paducah Bank--embarked on an innovative program that over the next ten years would infuse its struggling Lowertown neighborhood with almost seventy artists. The project was seen as high risk at the time. The City advertised nationally for artists to relocate to Paducah and purchase and renovate historic structures with favorable financing and incentives--for example, loans have been proved at up to 300% of the appraised property value to help fund renovations. In return, artists would have to follow the City's historic preservation design guidelines and fund much of the renovation from their own pockets. Yet it was the combined investment of the City, the public sector, and the artists themselves--not to mention low real estate costs--that have made this program a resounding success.

How did a small town in Kentucky create what is now a nationally recognized model of arts revitalization? The Lowertown District was in a state of distress by the end of the 1980s: its Greek Revival, Queen Anne, and Italianate homes were dilapidated, or flat-out abandoned. A local resident, Mark Barone, got fed up and pushed the City to act. With some city planning aggression (that should be loudly applauded...if only more cities had this chutzpah!), the Ci

ty passed an ordinance requiring landlords to update their buildings to meet code. The next step was repopulating the neighborhood. It recalls the famous line from the movie Field of Dreams: if you build it, they will come. Since the program's inception, over 70 artists have moved to Paducah, renovated historic structures, and set up shop. The best part? The flavor is still regional, and still warm and welcoming. In fact, one of the community's premiere crafts is arguably the warmest of all: quilting.

Not only have dozens of historic structures been brought back to life, but an entire neighborhood has been revitalized. The mayor estimates that the artists and and businesses that have made Lowertown home have brought over $35 million into the neighborhood. The project is an excellent example of how historic resources can be re-purposed into something that is relevant for today. And it's not only the businesses that win--artists have the benefit of owning their own homes and studio spaces, something out of reach for most in the cultural meccas of New York and San Francisco.

There is no danger of being forced out to another dicey neighborhood where prices are still affordable (but you wouldn't want to walk around after dark). An article from the New York Times Style magazine says it best:

"...what's most significant about Paducah is that it has become the model of how a rundown town can revive itself with the arts--and it's done so in a

big-box-retail-living red state, no less. 'I think of Paducah as a kind of poster child for using a very creative initiative around older small buildings,' says Ann Markusen, a professor at the University of Minnesota and an expert in regional economics. 'Artists are putting their own sweat equity into Paducah." This is a program that has not only preserved its built history, but enabled a new community to emerge as a cultivators of a new artistic heritage in Paducah.

Tanner Springs

It might surprise some people that Portland's famous Pearl District--one of the hippest neighborhoods on the West Coast--was once a stretch of wetlands and a water body called Couch Lake (sounds like my kind of lake). This lake was fed by springs that trickled down the hills southwest of the city, eventually making their way to the Williamette River. In the process, water was naturally filtered before reaching the River.

As the city grew in the 19th century and demand for developable land increased, the lake and its tributaries were eventually rerouted, forced underground, or filled.
One such water body was Tanner Springs, named for an 1860s tannery that was once nearby. As the area developed, Tanner Springs was piped underground, laying beneath the city for decades. In its place--along with Couch Lake, that experienced death-by-filling--grew a district of warehouses and railyards. Over time this industrial area then transformed into the Pearl District of today: a place of funky shops, trendy restaurants, and attractive residences.


In 2003, the City retained German-firm Atelier Dreiseitl and Portland firm GreenWorks, P.C. to design a park (originally conceptualized by Peter Walker and Associates) 20 feet away from the Couch Lake's original surface. The result is nothing short of awesome: in a single city block, Tanners Spring Park is a successful public open space, an urban wetland that filters water, and a place that uses design subtleties to tell the story of this Portland neighborhood. All of this in less than one acre of space.

What I love about this park is the subtlety of how it celebrates its history: there are no interpretive signs or plaques. Instead, history is told through its design, most noticably in three ways:

1. "Day-lighting" the water. By re-exposing the spring, the Pearl District now has an asset that gives people a glimpse of the area's natural environment prior to its development in the 1800s. The springs that now burble through the park actually connect to Tanner Creek, which still runs through pipes beneath the city.

2. Natural vegetation. The designers also used natural vegetation to soften the urban space. This was not only an environmentally-conscious move, but one of aesthetics (it looks amazing) and plays into the area's natural history.

3. A nod to the rails. In the neighborhood's first stage of development, the area was primarily an industrial district crisscrossed by railway tracks. The designers played with this idea and created a stunning, undulating wall of railroad track pieces that buffers the park from the street. What could have been a plain wall (or worse, something incredibly ugly) is now a place where people pose for their wedding photos.

The end result is part wetland, part art installation, part park--and an elegant yet fun, and engaging reference for local history. This is a park that you can stumble upon, and immediately get sucked in by its uniqueness. One reviewer on Yelp.com sums it up perfectly:

"Can you believe this? A natural wetlands preserve in the middle of a city? Not to mention, the stunning 'railroad' installation art piece that acts as a fence against the drop off. Walking up 10th you almost can't believe your eyes that this pristine park sits right in the middle of a bustling neighborhood. I had my coffee, cookie and camera in hand. So I gave the camera to Des and said 'Shoot away, I'm having a seat to take this all in."

Hidden City

The success of the Hidden City Festival in Philadelphia makes me giddy. In early summer 2009, Peregrine Arts--in concert with a number of local organizations and sponsors--hosted a 5-week festival that highlighted some forgotten historic treasures of Philadelphia. What made the festival particularly interesting was not only public access to locked-down buildings, but using the structures as venues for contemporary art performances and installations. To me, this is the perfect embodiment of a new approach to celebrating history: it's fun; it reaches across interests and social groups; it created new public access to historic resources; and it blends a number of elements into a memorable and unique experience.

Nine sites throughout the City were featured, including the Disston Saw Works, Founder's Hall at Girard College, and a number of churches. For each site, a local or international artist was commissioned to create a piece inspired by the history of the structure. Six sites hosted visual arts projects that were open to the public during set weekend hours; the other three sites served as venues for music or dance pieces but were also accessible to the public for a general gander during the days of performances. What was particularly cool about this event was that it engaged three different audiences that don't typically overlap: history enthusiasts, contemporary art-lovers, and urban explorers (abandoned places hobbyists, like these guys http://www.urbanexplorers.net/). The elements of all three were not only present, but added value to one another for an experience that was greater than the sum of its parts. For example, the average audience for the Group Motion Dance Company is about 200; their Hidden City performance at the old Metropolitan Opera House was experienced by 1,210 audience members. Performances for most events were 100% sold-out, and in some cases oversold. Some of the most popular tickets were for bus tours that took in a number of sites on the same day, and provided "behind the scenes" tours.

Why blog about it now? Well, the Festival did the critical step of evaluating its impact. A recently published report on the Festival reveals the magnitude of its success: over one million website hits, 10,000 visitors, and 3,044 event tickets sold. The Festival is an excellent example of how arts, history, and culture are not just fluffy amenities, but can have significant economic impact: it is estimated that the Festival created about $1.2 million in expenditures from organizations and attendees (imagine what that means for the local multiplier as well!). But perhaps the best outcome of the Festival is its long-lasting changes it has inspired. Apparently, the drop forge buliding at Disston Saw Works is no longer on the chopping block to be demolished, and there are now discussions about Shiloh Baptist Church becoming activated as a community/cultural center. And good news: plans are in the works for a second Hidden City festival in 2012. Mark your calendar.

To read more, check out the great article from Philadelphia City Paper: http://citypaper.net/articles/2009/05/28/my-city-was-gone

Or...go straight the source: http://www.hiddencityphila.org/