| Some economists only read books about cities like Bremerton. And it reads like an epic novel that repeats itself over and over. The same old story of the vibrant city that falls to the wayside as progress reaches to virgin soil that can be molded under a developer’s majestic dream or the reality of opportunity.
And so goes Bremerton — chapter after chapter. Enter my chapter; and in the abandon swell and smell of damp sheetrock and urine soaked side streets emerge persons hungry for a place. Those persons are called artists.
That was me in 1990, when you couldn’t give Bremerton away. And any reason of sanity from the flailing business gods only repeated itself like a record that knew only the past. It wanted business offices and deep pocket government agencies and not art. But what could anyone do when the only applicant for the game was an artist?
I was a hot-shot artist then — award winning, written up in most national art magazines, published and represented in the country’s best galleries. I did not need Bremerton and could make more money working from my home studio. But there was a lure of sorts, like a web that had spanned my path. I spent month after month analyzing the potential for artist security and potential for financial gain. I bought one of the largest buildings in the heart of downtown.
It was magic. The community responded like thirsty beasts waiting for water. Soon other galleries came aboard, and the Admiral Theater was established and rooted with the strength of wild ivy. In 1992 and 1993 I was one of the nation’s top earning galleries. I represented artists like Aleut carver John Hoover and Texas artist Donna Howell Sickles. It was an every day occurrence to sell and carry a $2000 or $3000 painting to the awaiting trunk of a client’s Mercedes. The old city was still empty, but tourists flocked to Bremerton. We dressed in Madison Avenue garb and thought the soaring art sales would last forever.
Soon it became difficult to accommodate other galleries and run my own gallery at the same time. So I began dropping out of those hotshot galleries. Also the economic climate was taking a turn as the technology field and our Microsoft golden child plummeted in the swoop of a wand.
Enter the new millennium and Bremerton was still ghost-like. Art was a life thread, but enterprising fingerlings were feeling what could be, and definition was about to transform the Bremerton “normal” into the Bremerton “abnormal” — a success never seen. In the forefront was a man named Cary Bozeman who was in the right place at the right time. And so a mayor led the fledglings.
This new chapter places me in the predicted scenario where the cycle of progress may not include me. This is where the old city becomes new with price tags and conditions accordingly.
Now I stand in my 14,000 sq ft building — ready to introduce a new direction, or I should say reintroduce. After being my tenant for almost seven years the Naval Museum has moved into its new impressive space by the ferry. Now what to do with the 8,000 sq ft that has been vacated?
Take notes economists. I have been contacted by dozens of businesses wanting to rent the space, but nothing I felt to be appropriate. I am bucking the odds and will bring back the arts, studios and creative retail. When will this happen? Call this your invitation. “We’re Back”. Don’t miss it. Be part of this chapter.
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