By Britta Velsko

Recently, I researched the American Romantic movement of the 1800s for my AP U.S. history class. It was a time period set into motion in response to the Enlightenment Era, in which improvements in scientific processes and technologies championed human progress and individuality. The argument of this Romantic art was to foster a veneration for the natural world, which would ideally inspire advocacy against what was seen as industrial destruction. I was very interested in, particularly, the art of Romanticism, and found great comfort looking at pieces of work produced in the period; I felt oddly connected to it, or seen by it. 

To anyone unfamiliar, or anyone who may have forgotten the lectures of their high school history class, the Romantic Era was a period in time in which the work of artists subtly shifted away from depicting humans, and towards portraying nature in its original state. The art of the time was defined by bold, majestic landscapes covering the increasingly large canvases, in which humans were rarely depicted, and if so were insignificantly tiny. 

I realized that the connection between myself and an anti-industrialist movement from 200 years ago lies within my glorious hometown of Homer.  The connection I deduced is interesting. To understand, walk outside and spend some time observing our glorious backdrop; smell the great salty sea that sweeps across the Spit Road on a blustery day, explore the fractals found in needles of the deep forest that are infinitely complex, or watch the clouds tinged by sunset and the soft gradient of the winter sky connect. Of course, any resident of Homer is familiar with these features, but I think that it has given children in particular an opportunity to express their real love and passion for this town, and, in a broader view, for nature, through artistic expression. 

Homer’s beauty effortlessly inspires creativity that is exponentially promoted through our close and welcoming community. Every child of Homer, in their pursuit of passion for the arts, is exalting the miraculous force of nature. When we, the youth, find ourselves in a place so beautiful, seeking love and respect is not difficult, and I am grateful to be a part of a town that fosters it. I think Homer is separated from other small towns by this real respect. That is not to tout ourselves above or superior in a selfish manner, but knowing that the general sentiment of many small towns seems to be a gripe for more activities, Homer, I believe, differs.

This year, I was lucky to be introduced to some students I was familiar with, but maybe not yet friends with, through the on-a-year off-a-year schedule of some courses in my school, or from joining new extracurricular activities, such as yearbook club. The one thing I saw, tying students from all walks of life together, was art. Nearly every student was either a part of the arts or had been at some point in their life. Writers, painters, singers, dancers, musicians and creators of any media, can generate works with miraculous, vivid passion due to the love we carry with us for our home; this spirit defines Homer. Having access to opportunities such as these has been paramount to all success I can personally account for. Creativity has always been worthy of great value, but in the era of rampant technology, it is essential to preserving humanity’s worth, on a scale much greater than the current time period or physical location. 

The artistic opulence I speak of shines through Homer in innumerable ways. The Nutcracker, a historically rigid and prestigious production, has been influenced greatly by the children involved, ranging from 6-18 years. These young people have not found, but created, a space where they may fully express their ambitions and find a home with likeminded people, altering the physical and figurative environment to adapt in a changing world. Another example is the actual presence of art in my personal environment. Students in my school’s art department are always encouraged to create new murals and exhibits; one appeared in my class hallway just the other day, a slightly abstract depiction of whales in close proximity to a beckoning lighthouse. 

Art also has a profound influence on other aspects of student success. One of the greatest experiences of my teenage years was the opportunity to be a counselor at a youth art camp. There, I was able to share our environmental blessing with those even younger than I, which turned out to be a greatly informational and determinative experience. It was helpful guidance for the young students as well; the sharing of stories and development of techniques amid the environment of Bishop’s Beach was reflected in the works my students produced. 

Homer’s prosperity in ability to foster special connections between students and art is due to our location, but that is not to say it doesn’t apply to a broader scale. The world, clearly, needs more art. A repeat of the Era of Romanticism would certainly be a touch unnecessary, but I think a global movement towards the creation of more beautiful things inspired by nature and created with a human’s touch would certainly lead to a little more reverence for the earth —– we are nature, and to nature we return. But, returning to the rhetoric of the beginning of this piece, I am eternally grateful for my hometown’s ability to foster this in our little place by the sea. 

Britta Velsko is a 17-year-old junior in high school in Homer, Alaska. She was born and raised in coastal Alaska, and has spent countless hours of her childhood on docks and boat yards ranging from Homer to Naknek. She cares deeply for the ocean and environment, and hopes to pursue writing in the future to assist in conservation efforts.