Rebuilding Detroit

Quigley talks about the future and all that jazz

As we experience one of the worst economic periods in United States history, I wonder if anyone, besides us, cares about what creatives are doing.

First, let's get one thing clear. I loathe the term "creatives" when addressing the collective group of people who try to make a buck off of their artistic abilities. It reminds me of a creative director from a Nashville-based advertising agency whose own creativity is analogous to a piece of stale toast. He used the term creatives constantly, when talking about myself and other fine artists. So, from now on when I refer to any member of the creative class, I will use artist and/or their artistic specialty.

Now, back to why anyone in this economy would ever care about artists.

Like it or not, industrial Detroit, we are your future. Artists are your hope, your lifeline. The school bus packed with cheerleaders, confetti, balloons, libations and a healthy-sized cheese tray, on its way to a pro-Detroit rally.

Enduring major social change occurs not during economic boom times, but in periods of crisis and questioning. We are in one of those times.

A report, published two years ago by Michigan Future Inc., states, "... economic development priority one is to prepare, retain, and attract talent. Our agenda to help better position Michigan and its regions to succeed in a knowledge-driven economy is centered on (1) developing a culture, and (2) making key public investments that are aimed at preparing, retaining and attracting talent. The places with the greatest concentration of talent win."

Visual arts assist in the attraction and retention of talent, and it’s a key component in Detroit's future economic and cultural growth.

For those of you in need of a brief history lesson to get jazzed over artists and how the economic hoopla began, here it is:

At around 1980, national revenue began to take a gigantic leap, thanks to “the creative class,” says Richard Florida, in his book, Rise of the Creative Class. By the turn of the century, revenue hit $1.7 trillion.

In 2000, Business Week labeled this century's economy, "The Creative Economy.”

Creativity is the driving force of economic growth. In terms of influence, the creative class dominates. To harness this talent, a healthy nest must be developed for artists to flourish, and more importantly, remain in Detroit.

It’s been historically proven that a community of artists can revitalize and/or expand an area in a short period of time.

Consider Seattle, Austin; Greenwich Village, Soho and Chelsea in New York; Wicker Park in Chicago; just a handful examples of how artists can make a community thrive. Each of these were barren post-industrial slums, left as wastelands of a thriving economy that had since moved in urbanist-Ford fashion.

The artists saw potential in these undesirable neighborhoods, and in mere decades, transformed them into hot spots. Now people flock to these areas that, thanks to the artists, have become international household names synonymous to grand cultural meccas in all industrialized (and totally out of it) nations.

Artists are willing to go into unchartered, unsavory neighborhoods (readily available in Detroit for approximately the cost of a large sandwich) for two reasons. First, we are typically in a low-income bracket.

Richard Lloyd, sociologist for Vanderbilt University, author, and contributor to Florida's book, found that artists are some of the most intelligent, yet poorest citizens in the U.S. — we also live in the only industrialized nation without federal funding for the arts.

This places the U.S. artist in a highly challenging and precarious position, particularly in the formative working years, if not for a lifetime.

That being said, I'd like to address my neighbors: Next time you see me pulling out of the garage in my crappy 1984 Jeep Grand Wagoneer, which just lost a 6-inch body part to expose a recent rust spot, an encouraging, non-judgmental smile would be appreciated. Thanks.

And second, artists recognize the potential of raw spaces. I habitually look at all buildings, especially the run-down, and see nothing but studio space.

The artist does not want — hello developers! — the posh, urban loft. Those are out of the common artist’s budget and renovated to a point of homogenization that’s unpalatable and impractical for art work.

Detroit’s unwanted real estate is like the first nugget of gold to a gold digger — a blank canvas, prime for opportunity. With a little support, vision and forethought, artists can begin reshaping much of the downtown, bringing local, national and international exposure to a city in need of an architectural Dr. 90210.