Traveling the Great River Road to learn more about a proposed arts corridor in northeast Missouri

"Communities Envision 50 Miles of Art," the press release begins. "The three communities of Clarksville, Louisiana and Hannibal in Northeast Missouri have a lot going for them, but there is one thing they want more of: professional artists." The announcement comes from the office of Dee David, in Hannibal, who holds the title "development specialist."

Aren't people with titles such as "development specialist" usually proposing tax incentives for strip malls and subdivisions, or describing how a new federal prison can boost a small-town economy, or how a toxic-waste storage facility can actually improve a region's quality of life?

And since when did any development specialist, whether in small-town Missouri or big-city St. Louis, figure that the one thing a community needed was more professional artists?

Linn Ayers of Ayers Pottery in Hannibal, one of the "weird artists" already making a living in the proposed 50-miles-of-art corridor
Jennifer Silverberg
Linn Ayers of Ayers Pottery in Hannibal, one of the "weird artists" already making a living in the proposed 50-miles-of-art corridor

David, the press release continues, "is just one of the many people that have taken note of the economic benefits of an artist community." She is quoted as saying, "You have to look at new ways to encourage growth."

Such talk sounds like small-town naivete to big-city ears.

But then, this city thought it needed the Rams.

David appears to be a reasonable woman in person. Her office, that of the Northeast Missouri Development Authority, is in a three-story yellow-brick building that's in the midst of renovation on Hannibal's Third Street. She introduces two other reasonable-looking people: Patrick French, executive director of Pike County Development Authority (another tied to the suspect "developer" legion), and Linn Ayers, who introduces herself as the "weird artist" in the bunch.

Everyone sits down together at a long table with views of the town — from which Ayers can point out her and her husband's shop, Ayers Pottery — and lay out the scheme, which, after a few minutes, reveals itself to be far more appealing than what Georgia Frontiere had to offer.

The concept of 50 miles of art began with conversations between the Ayerses (Linn and her husband, Steve), who've made a living with their pottery in Hannibal for 15 years, and John and Karen Stoeckley, who own galleries that exhibit John's pen-and-ink drawings and watercolors in Union Station and in St. Charles and have worked out of their Louisiana gallery as home base for three years.

The couples talked about the potential for more artists like themselves — artists who make things that people actually want — working in the area, and how those artists could transform and enrich the region.

They figured that the Mississippi is already a tourist draw, especially Hannibal, with its Huck and Tom and Becky associations, and Louisiana and Clarksville are popular stops for bald-eagle watchers in the winter. All three are scenic river towns with rich histories and sagging economies, which means lots of attractive buildings that can be had for a song (or, in this case, a kiln), even after renovation. If artists who feel squeezed in the high-rent zones of the Pacific Northwest or Southwest or California or Florida could be seduced by the potential of Mississippi River tourism, then the three towns could become art stops along Highway 79.

Further impetus for the 50-miles-of-art concept came with the state's recent designation of those 50 miles from Hannibal to Clarksville as a scenic byway (of course it's always been scenic, but a little promotion and official recognition help), with fresh blacktop being laid and signs with pretty little bluebirds on them set in place to emphasize the scenic nature of the scenic nature.

Artists who are thinking about packing up their lives and moving to a small river town in Missouri will find not just nice views of the Mississippi, cheap real-estate property and the whisper of "potential"; they'll also hear people like French, of the developer class no less, say things like, "Artists make pretty good citizens. They have a sense of community and involvement."

"I've been on the park board, and now I'm on the school board," Ayers chimes in as living proof.

"Artists like to be told that they're welcome and wanted," she adds. Artists rarely are, and Ayers is gratified that when she and the Stoeckleys first presented their ideas to David and French, "they didn't think we were nuts."

Instead, they formed an "interesting coalition" (French's words) and started thinking of other small-town communities that draw the cultural-tourist trade, places like Nashville, Ind.; Ashland, Ore.; and Mineral Point, Wis., a town of 3,000 with some 40 working artists. They also got local banks interested in the idea, making low-interest loans available for artists' relocation costs and building renovation.

They started developing a pitch: low cost of living; available, appealing and affordable space (French touts a 19th-century brick church for sale in Louisiana for $22,000, suitable for a large studio, retail space and living area); towns located near major cities and major arts fairs; serene, historic-river-town ambiance; and a small corp of working artists — blacksmiths, weavers, potters, glassblowers, painters — who can point newcomers to the right banker and the best regional art shows. And Ayers can even give them a decent cappuccino in one of her shops.

The pitch went into ads that were placed in selected trade journals such as Ceramic Monthly, Weavers World and Crafts Report in June. So far, David has received 55 phone calls from all over the country.

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