Did you have many people at your place?
Yeah—maybe not as many as the year I participated before, but there was a nice flow. Adam sent people my way, and I sent people to him. It worked well, and the visitors were wonderful. I just wish I could have made it out to everyone else’s locations too. That’s the hard part of the day—we’re all busy hosting at the same time.

That’s why being able to come together like this afterward feels so meaningful. When Chris first approached us back in 2019 about being a venue—just doing something—we were immediately on board. Anything that lifts up the arts and the creative community in this region matters. The act of creating, whatever the discipline, brings a kind of positive energy into the community, even if it’s not always visible.

From what I saw, people were really engaged. They asked thoughtful questions and were genuinely encouraging. That was great to experience. So I imagine everyone here would say—yes, let’s do it again next year. Definitely.

I’ve already started setting things up for 2027—you can just click a button and be part of it. But before we get there, maybe we can go around and share experiences, since I wasn’t able to visit everyone during the event.

Sure. I’m Adam Swanson, a painter, and I hosted visitors at my studio. I live out near Big Lake, in First Lake Township—kind of off the beaten path, but a beautiful area. And people came. They were happy to be there. The weather probably helped.

I prepared by making prints and pulling some of my work back from galleries so I could have a good selection on hand. Overall, I’d call it a real success—I sold quite a few paintings. It was very successful.

I also have a few things going for me that make the space inviting—animals, a family setting. People could see goats, pet a rabbit. Those small experiences added something special to the visit.

Even though my place is a bit out of the way, I paint full-time and have people who follow my work. I think they were excited to finally step into my space, since I don’t usually open it up. For me, it was a shift—from just showing work to actually welcoming people in and connecting with them. And I think they really enjoyed that.

Ken Hanson: I live right on the Scanlon border—just down the road from the library. When you’re in your studio day after day, week after week, you realize you need to share your work once in a while.

Are you a painter?
Yeah, I’m a painter. I taught at Marshall for 40 years, and I painted alongside my students that whole time. I was fortunate—I could make exactly what I wanted without worrying about the market. And that’s still where I’m at. The ideas I follow are simply the ones that interest me, whether they’re marketable or not.

But I had a steady stream of people throughout the day, and the response felt really positive.

Well, good for you—for doing work that isn’t driven by the market. As an aside, most of my income came from selling within the marketplace, but my own creative work often had nothing to do with that. It was just: here’s my art—take it or leave it. If it connects, great.

I’m actually a voice actor, and this was my first time participating. I got involved after Glenn and I ran into each other on the bike trail—he started talking about the event, and it sounded really compelling. Now I’m on the board for OACC, so I’ve been involved in that capacity as well. It’s been a wonderful experience—just connecting people who didn’t even realize how many others were out there creating. That, to me, is incredibly valuable.

One thing I’d say, though, is that more people need to know about this. It felt like there weren’t enough people aware of what was happening. If awareness grows, participation will grow too—but that’s always easier said than done.

It also makes you wonder what people expect when they come to something like this. When you go to a gallery or a formal show, there’s a certain context—you kind of know what you’re walking into. But with something like this tour, I wonder what people are looking for, or what they think they’re going to find.

Right—and maybe that uncertainty creates some hesitation to step inside those spaces. It can feel unfamiliar, maybe even a little intimidating.

Yes, absolutely. We’re very aware of that.

That’s why having someone help communicate what this is all about made such a difference. She did a wonderful job—truly an advocate for what we’re trying to do.

There’s almost a county fair feeling to it, too, which is approachable. People are used to that—they go to county fairs, the state fair, they see quilts, crafts, demonstrations. If this could lean into that familiarity, it might make it feel more accessible to more people in the region.

It might also help to have a central gathering point at the end of the day—somewhere everyone can come together.
Right—food, conversation, something that brings it all together.

But I wasn’t—you're with Kim, right?
Right.
Okay. As a fabric artist, do you work out of your home studio as well? You do? I guess what I’m wondering is—does something like this event appeal to you?

I’ve never really done anything like that. I’ve sold work through the Fiber Guild sale and at booths, but opening up my studio like this isn’t something I’ve been drawn to. I can’t really imagine getting my space ready for people to come through like that.
Yeah, I understand that feeling.

The other thing is—I told a lot of people about the event, and almost no one had heard of it.
Right.
We hadn’t even heard of it ourselves at first. So getting the word out is definitely something to work on—but we’ll come back to that.

Deb, how did things go at the bookstore?

Well, for authors—who tend to be pretty solitary—it was a bit of a mixed experience. We didn’t have many people come in to listen. I read first, from my children’s book, and had two kids there. Then Janice Fairbanks presented, and that was really special—she had two high school students attend who were working on a cultural awareness project, so it aligned perfectly for them.

I think maybe one other person came in after that. Then Katherine Johnson, who has published many books, including children’s books, didn’t have any kids show up—which was disappointing, because she had planned an interactive piece with a mukluk dance.

But I think timing played a role. The weekend before was Independent Bookstore Weekend, and Ryan said the store was packed. So many of the people who would have been interested had already come through the week prior.

Patrick Stevens also presented, and attendance was light for him as well—just a couple people toward the end. But I want to frame it this way: while we didn’t get much participation from the broader community, we had a wonderful experience among ourselves. We learned from one another, shared ideas, and built connections. Katherine, with all her experience, was listening and engaging with the rest of us, and the conversations were rich.

So it was meaningful—it just didn’t have the audience we’d hoped for. Personally, I really wanted to read to more kids.

Timing aside, I also started thinking about visibility. What if we had been outside on the sidewalk with small tables, catching people as they passed by? Just inviting them in—“Hey, want to hear a few pages?” I went over to the Wired Loon for tea, and there were plenty of people around. I found myself telling them, “You should go into the bookstore!”

It made me realize how much better we could do with simple, visible signage—at the ice cream stand, gas stations, even churches or community bulletin boards. We probably need a longer promotional runway and a broader presence across more places. Because the author component, especially, could be really engaging if people knew it was happening.

I also stopped by and talked with Quinn at the Streetcar, and he was really enthusiastic. He said they’d love to be involved next year—maybe host something in their side room, bring in a pizza truck, create more of a draw. He was genuinely excited about the possibilities.

Sue Pavlatos

I loved the energy of it, and I really think we can do even more next year. I had a wonderful time. I was lucky—I had one friend help me set up, and another help during the event. She’s very outgoing and optimistic, just perfect for greeting people. We had a great time together.

Going into it, I told her, “I don’t know what to expect—it could be quiet, so don’t be disappointed.” But it turned out really well. There was a lot of interest, a steady flow of people, and good back-and-forth conversations. The people who came were engaged—and many of them bought work.

One thing that would really help is having printed maps. A friend of mine came that morning—she’s very comfortable with technology—and even she had trouble accessing the digital map. Printed maps would make a big difference, especially since not everyone is comfortable using QR codes. If people can easily see where to go next, they’re much more likely to continue the tour and find locations that might otherwise be hard to locate.

Publicity is another challenge. It’s not just about getting the word out—it’s about sparking interest. And the reality is, as artists, we have to recognize that only a small percentage of the public actively seeks out art. So when you do get a good turnout, that’s meaningful.

That said, the people who came were genuinely interested. There was a nice mix—different ages, different backgrounds. And one of the most valuable parts was simply that they could meet you. People really want that connection. And honestly, it’s just as enjoyable on our side to meet them. They were fun, open, and curious.

Julie helped “warm people up,” and then I’d step in to talk about the work—it made for a great dynamic. It kept things light and engaging.

But again, location matters. My place is probably one of the harder ones to find, so better wayfinding would help. And timing is something to think about too. In previous years, the event ran later, even into the evening, but that doesn’t work for everyone.

This year, things shifted a bit. About a month or six weeks before the event, the Thunder Film Festival and the Tribal College wanted to be involved. There just wasn’t enough time to fully integrate everything. The college space could be a great hub—open earlier in the day for exhibitions, then transitioning into programming later on.

Jonathan Thunder’s talk at 3:00 was a highlight, but it also created some confusion. A few people showed up around 2:45 unsure of what to do next—whether the tour was still happening or if they should head to the college. That transition needs to be communicated more clearly, both in messaging and promotion.

There are a lot of good ideas here—it just needs clearer structure and coordination.

And on a practical note, I got a call asking if I wanted to stay open until 9:00 at night. I said no—I live alone, and that just doesn’t feel right for me. Earlier hours make more sense.

But overall, I’ll wrap up by saying this: we had a good day.

Kris Nelson

Speaking for the Encore—we had a good day. We included promotion for the Art Roundabout in every play program leading up to the event, letting audiences know it was coming. But of course, that only reaches people who are already attending performances.

Even after 40 years, we still hear people say, “I didn’t know this was here.” It really drives home the point—unless something is directly in front of people, it’s easy for them to miss it.

That said, we had about 50 people stop by during the event, and around nine of them made purchases. It was a solid day. We had a couple of artists set up outside, and more than a dozen displaying work inside the space. Overall, it felt successful.

Deborah Winchell

Well, I just wanted to add something. Listening to you, Deegan, I kept thinking—how fun would it be to have someone doing voice work alongside the authors? You could be out there with a bullhorn, drawing people in. I can picture it—it would be great.

Glenn Swanson

At our place, we hosted the Wood City Quilters Guild, along with June Lend, who is 93, and a collection of her quilts. About 10 days before the event, I went out to visit her, photographed around 20 of her quilts, and did an interview that lasted nearly two hours—she had a lot to share. Her son told me that day was probably the last really good day she’s had. She’s been going through blood transfusions and is nearing the end.

I put together a short profile of her and displayed a few of her quilts, thinking that might be all. But then, around 2:45, Jim brought her to the event. It was perfect timing—we still had a number of people there. In total, we probably had around 50 visitors throughout the day, with about 15 different artists represented.

Getting her there was a bit of an effort—we helped her out of the car, onto the porch, and into the house. But once she was inside, it was something special. The quilters gathered around her, giving her attention and care, and you could just see this light come back into her eyes. By the time she left, there was a warmth and joy in her expression that was incredibly moving. It was a deeply meaningful moment.

I also had a small exhibit set up in the garage, where I talked with people about a larger idea I’ve been working on—placing visual panels in storefronts throughout the county. Each panel would feature rotating images—photography, artist profiles, snapshots of what’s happening in the community. They’re simple acrylic sheets mounted with Velcro, easy to update and refresh.

It’s a bit of an old-school approach, but the idea is consistency—something like a year-round, “365” presence. You might see it at the Streetcar, then again at another restaurant or shop, each time with new images or stories about local artists, events, or even something like maple syrup harvesting or farmers market vendors. It becomes a visual thread connecting the whole region.

Part of that would include building a photography group to regularly capture and share what’s happening across the community. I spoke with a photographer from the Pine Journal who’s interested in being involved, and others responded really positively to the idea.

For me, it’s about creating a visible, ongoing presence—something that keeps the spirit of the event alive year-round. Each panel could also include information about upcoming events, like “Art Roundabout 2027 – May 1,” along with a QR code and website link. The goal is for that website to serve as a shared community hub.

Having the quilters there sparked something for me. It made me realize that what we’re really doing is stitching together a kind of community quilt—each artist, each creative practice, each story becoming a piece of something larger. Just like a quilt, it’s made up of many individual parts, but together it forms a whole.

And that’s something we don’t always get to see. When you’re at your own venue, you don’t know what’s happening across the county. There’s no easy way to experience the full picture. That’s where documentation becomes important—but it’s hard to do when you’re busy hosting. I found myself in the same position—wanting to capture it, but caught up in conversation.

So maybe next year, we organize a group of photographers to move between locations, documenting the day. That way, we can start to build a visual record of the event as a whole.

When it comes to marketing, I agree with everything that’s been said—it’s challenging. But maybe the long-term vision is simple: that everyone in Carlton County comes to know that the first Saturday in May is a day to celebrate art. Period.

And “art” in the broadest sense—from farmers growing organic produce or harvesting maple syrup, to working artists making a living from their craft. It’s all part of the same creative ecosystem.

You can start to imagine what that could become—dance groups popping up at different venues, small theatrical performances moving from place to place, music, movement, unexpected moments. A kind of living, breathing celebration that flows across the region.

That’s the bigger vision—not just for next year, but for five years down the road. A place known for valuing creativity in all its forms, with the whole community participating.

In the meantime, we’re still building the structure to support it—this year, it was 18 venues, which is no small thing. The website is a key piece of that, acting as a central hub for information and coordination.

And moving forward, the question becomes: if that’s our foundation, how do we build awareness? How do we amplify what we’re doing so more people know, show up, and take part?

How do we reach the broader public? One way is by connecting everything we’re already doing—linking all of our social media channels, whether it’s OACC’s Instagram and Facebook or each individual participant’s platforms, so they all point back to one central place.

For example, at the Oldenburg House, we link to OACC on our website. It makes sense for our guests. If someone staying with us is interested in something—alpacas, local farms, art studios—we can point them directly to it. “Go visit this place, your kids will love it,” or “Stop here on your way out of town.” It’s about providing a service, but it also strengthens the larger community by connecting people to what’s here.

Looking ahead, the sooner we organize 2027, the better positioned we are to apply for grants—specifically for marketing and promotion. This year, even just a few days before the event, people were still reaching out wanting to participate. That’s a good sign. It means there’s momentum, and instead of easing up, we should build on it.

What we’re really sharing isn’t just an event—it’s the heart of the people. It’s the chance for someone to meet another human being, to step past that initial hesitation and simply connect. Most people feel some level of discomfort meeting new people—they don’t want to look foolish. But when you greet someone with openness and authenticity—“Hi, welcome, this is what I do”—you cut right through that.

That moment of connection is meaningful. It’s something we need more of, and this event creates space for it. In a way, it’s about preparing the ground for the next generation—creating a healthier, more connected community.

If we can communicate that—really reveal it, not just “market” it—people will respond. Because what they experience is genuine. I’ve called it the “Amazement Tour” for a reason. People kept saying, “I had no idea this was here.” Sometimes it’s even your next-door neighbor doing something incredible, and you never knew.

Breaking through that isolation is powerful.

At its core, this is about cooperation, not competition. It’s about supporting one another and recognizing that we’re all connected. A healthy, creative community benefits everyone.

There are real opportunities ahead. I received information about a couple of grants that could help us expand promotion into the Twin Cities and Duluth. Imagine people coming up not just for one stop, but to create their own experience—visiting artists, farms, shops, building a day that’s unique to them.

That’s really the key: getting the messaging right.

It would be amazing if, when you say “Cloquet,” people didn’t just think of hockey, but of a vibrant arts community.

There are so many ideas to build on this. Even something as simple as participating more visibly in the Carlton Days parade—bringing artists, bakers, performers, kids in costume, all celebrating creativity together. It becomes a moving, living expression of what this community is about.

Or larger visual ideas—like creating a massive quilt display, or lining part of the Munger Trail with quilts for a day, something that draws attention and invites curiosity.

There’s also the potential for collaborative performances—music, dance, painting—all coming together to create something that can be filmed and used to promote future events. We already have the pieces: artists, performers, photographers, storytellers.

Ultimately, we’re all fortunate to have found something we’re passionate about. It gives meaning to our lives. And sharing that—gently inviting others into it—can have a real, positive impact on the community.

That’s where things stand. We’re building something meaningful, and it’s starting to take shape. With more people involved, more coordination, and stronger outreach, it can grow into something truly special.

And yes—simple things like posters, flyers, and even getting the word out through places like hair salons, where conversations happen every day, can make a difference.

All in all, this has been a really valuable conversation.

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