Opinion: One year later, Star Store closing still stings … but spirit lives on

Recent reporting by The New Bedford Light on the Star Store/CVPA is a eulogy for the demise of a hallowed art institution that was the tipping point in downtown’s renewal. From a deteriorating edifice, the state and university’s investment made it a shining star of a building, the home of an art school in a city with a very significant arts heritage. It was a spectacular success, but nothing lasts forever.

Eulogies mourn the physical loss of one who was important to the community. They usually concentrate on physical characteristics or anecdotes that highlight one’s fleeting presence. Beyond the physical, there’s the character, integrity, vision and other outstanding spiritual qualities which, in spite of the loss, shine and endure in memory.

One year ago, New Bedford’s downtown, and the city itself, was grievously wounded by an interloper who hurriedly shut down the Star Store campus and threw its students into a maelstrom of uncertainty. Here was an outside academic, totally unfamiliar with the history of downtown’s revival, totally unwilling to discuss matters with the city, totally opaque with his students, totally inept in producing a coherent narrative of closure and totally, almost obsequiously intent on impressing his boss.

His deepest institutional death wish for Star Store was helped by the bumbling, altogether incomprehensible withdrawal of funding by a local legislative “leader” whose motive seemed revenge fueled by animosity, if not jealousy, toward the Star Store’s developer. Public interest aside, it was apparently “get even” time. Funding is the lifeblood of the university. Defunding the Star Store was as if the father purposely killed his child in an irrational fit of rage.

The move was shocking in its execution. Art, art supplies, equipment and furniture were randomly dumped in containers and hauled to who knows where, right in front of protesting students. It was a signal of total contempt for student and public opinion. As if the undertaker removed the body from the casket during the wake.

He hurriedly summoned university tradespeople to open a makeshift studio in a strip mall amid the environment of meandering parking lots and circuitous driveways. That he was able to do so in spite of the “studio’s” shortcomings is testimony to state building prerogatives.

The local legislative delegation barely raised a voice in protest. One legislator, the son of the man whose administration ignited downtown’s revival, incredibly viewed the move as something inconsequential to the city.

But there were other witnesses to this institutional assassination; a governor too busy organizing her travel itineraries; a glad handing politician president intent on increasing his power; the compliant governing board whose Fall River chairman should be ashamed of himself for not advocating for the South Coast; most city councilors who declined to attend the student protest; city planning and economic development officials who maintained low profiles; the downtown art, restaurant, service and business communities, who mostly stayed silent; and a tongue-tied Chamber of Commerce. What should have been an emphatic local, “NO!” devolved into a mayor fighting nearly alone for his city.

That one academic, unknown in the community, and entirely ignorant and indifferent to its travails, could summarily remove the capstone to 40 years of downtown revival is unbelievable — especially among the many hundreds who worked so long and tirelessly to return the downtown to some glory.

The subsequent prevarication from the Ivory Tower was continually and quite successfully exposed by The Light as meager and almost pathetic rationalizations. As the numbers and reasons changed over time, as the students’ academic plight was exposed, as the educators circled their wagons, it was quite obvious that the slap-dash abandonment was ill thought through.

That splendid building, physically renewed and shining, housing beautiful art and dedicated student artists, exuded a palpable energy on its downtown surroundings. It deserved a much better fate than that doled out by this silent stranger. As if the CVPA was mugged in the alley in broad daylight, dragged up the hill and dumped out of town. As Light columnist Jack Spillane reported, there’s still no indication of its final circumstance. UMD’s silence bodes ill for the CVPA.

Nevertheless, its spirit and energy live on in its students.

Staff stories about artists Navarro, Napoli, Beigzadeh and Perry struggling to relocate their studios, cope with the university’s inadequate workspace, fulfill domestic duties, complete their required work, and promote Star Store’s reoccupation document a unique, forward-looking spirit that is sometimes lacking in this city.

Their youthful energy, undaunted, attracted the attention of UMD volunteers and anonymous benefactors who helped create a downtown student studio and gallery. In spite of the university’s best efforts to eradicate CVPA’s downtown existence, it was as if the Star Store created a clone of itself, unencumbered by hidden agendas of isolated, indifferent and irresponsible academics.

It’s ironic that an adult outsider came to New Bedford and discarded downtown’s jewel of revitalization while student outsiders came to the city, adopted Star Store as their creative home, embraced the downtown in all its grittiness, grew to love and respect the city and reached out to it with their art studio.They persist in spite of their grievous loss, in spite of university indifference. It’s testament to an enduring spirit, an inner creative fire ignited in that wonderful beaux-arts building on Union Street.

Everything physical will, in time, pass either through entropy or enmity, but ideas live on. Especially those that beget the arts. The CVPA’s students cast an artful shroud over the downtown and, indeed, New Bedford, adding to its rich artistic heritage. There’s little doubt that these student artists will endure, continuing to stoke creative fires and succeeding in their quest to beautify our world. These kids are all right! They will prosper. The “adults,” however, will move on, leaving behind the scars they inflicted, shuffling out of town, driven by an empty, wonton, mindless ambition that plagues our world.

Richard Walega is a former New Bedford city planner who served from 1977 to 1983.

As an independent, nonpartisan news outlet dedicated to diverse community voices, The New Bedford Light welcomes guest essays. Opinions expressed in our Community Voices essays are those of the individual writers.