It is a sure sign of too much economic prosperity for all the wrong people when long-ignored real estate, such as the glorious and ramshackle wreck of a building at the corner of Water Street and Don Gaspar, is being remodeled. You know, the one which at street level must be thought of as the "Doodlets building?" Should more proof be
required that the wealthy are too wealthy and that the poor are handy, only insofar as their labor and their historical charm, one has but to look across the street at the Las Campanas Story Center.
On pure
technical merit, the
Story Center, a cutting-edge "soft sell" advertising concept promoting the northwest Santa Fe housing development called Las Campanas (The Bells), is a
marvel. It is a thoughtfully, almost lovingly, decorated space blending historic adobe charm and old world elegance with modern technology and marketing
savoir-faire
in a way that may only be described as impressive in its elegance. Las Campanas developer Lyle Anderson, the Arizona-based group that specializes in so-called "golf communities," enlisted the Canadian company Envisioning and Storytelling to distill the, ah, creation myth, as it were, that would ring bells in the hearts of their homebuyer demographic, downplaying the humdrum business of buying and selling, honing in on the history-steeped romance of the properties in question. At first glance, however, you're less likely to believe you're in a 3-D sales brochure and more likely to believe you've wandered into a full-on museum quality exhibition.
Capable photographer John Sinal's color-saturated images of the region are displayed on semi-translucent panels among artsy sketchbook notations and diagrams, all bathed in a high-tech, gentle barrage of shifting light mimicking the Southwest's own legendary luminosity. That idea of light is the keystone in the whole marketing plan, as in
The Light of Inspiration
, a coffee table book of Sinal's photos available at the Story Center, with proceeds admirably going to benefit the Santa Fe Opera. Sinal's images are used further in a 17-minute film of the same name which, I was told-and here the "exhibition" sense fades and the "sales pitch" quality begins-presents "Santa Fe as an amenity to Las Campanas."
Surely, I thought to myself, I did not just hear my community described as a pleasant convenience, a perk if you will, for those who choose to live in a nearby "golf community." But the film made it clear that I had heard exactly that and much more. Apparently it is not only present-day Santa Fe shops and restaurants that work to increase the charms of Las Campanas living, but the whole of Santa Fe's history and cultural evolution. The rich multi-cultural dynamic of the city is, according to film, comprised of, no kidding, "chiefs, conquistadors and cowboys." That heady stew has been mightily seasoned by a deep artistic tradition, the film makes clear, as it details the arrival and influence of such characters as Mabel Dodge, the Cinco Pintores and, naturally, Georgia "household name" O'Keeffe, in a litany of strained lines aimed at establishing art scene credibility. Those Cinco Pintores and their jovial hooligan pals, for example, arrived courtesy of the railroad to turn 1920s Santa Fe into a "Bohemian Rhapsody." If I didn't know better, I'd think the city had a shot at suing the band Queen for copyright infringement. What, exactly, creates such a rhapsody? Again, the "story" explains: "artists, philosophers, radicals and luminaries" came here to "find themselves" in "a city different, a land enchanted, a place apart," where there is an "irresistible mix of people and a fusion of ideas." All of this, of course, is narrated in a voice that is not too far from
Dirty Harry
-era Clint Eastwood, so when the film actually asks viewers to imagine themselves living at Las Campanas and then to decide which they personally will be, "cowboy, conquistador or chief?" it's a surprise not to hear the query end with, "feelin' lucky, punk?"
As entertaining as the film is (top notch production value and sound quality, by the way), it also falls into some other categories, which could include racist, classist and, well, awfully silly. Although a separate interactive plasma screen at the Story Center helpfully provides visitors with more gratis tourist information than they could possibly wring from the city, people wandering through the Story Center should understand in no uncertain terms that, outside of our "golf communities," Santa Feans don't call Native Americans "chiefs," we don't call Hispanic people "conquistadors" and we don't call golfers, no matter how they plead, "cowboys." Also, though there is a chance that someone living at Las Campanas is a luminary of some kind-probably in terms of dentistry or investment banking-it's unlikely that there are any artists or philosophers and, I am able to promise with conviction, that there is nothing even resembling a "radical." Most of us do not believe that the phrases "high desert," "remarkable harmony" and "two 18-hole Jack Nicklaus-designed golf courses" complement each other. If by "irresistible mix of people," one means both rich and white, yes, you'll find that at Las Campanas.
Speaking of high desert radicals, the final insult of the film-and it is thoroughly insulting-is that it's closed with a quote from Edward Abbey expressing the romance for the high desert that a bunch of marketing asshats would like to chime in the hearts of those capable of purchasing the nearly 1,000 buildable lots left at Las Campanas. I wonder why they didn't use Abbey's entreaty to "Always remove and destroy survey stakes, flagging, advertising signboards, mining claim markers, animal traps, poisoned bait, seismic exploration geophones and other such artifacts of industrialism. The men who put those things there are up to no good and it is our duty to confound them."
Maybe it just didn't have that ring?
