I had the great honor of speaking at the Scholastic Art Awards this past Saturday, hosted by Heartwood College of Art in Kennebunk. The annual awards honor exceptional work in grades 7 to 12 in the visual and literary arts nationally, and the event on Saturday focused on winners in the visual arts category from Maine.

Typically, I would not shine the spotlight on myself. But I have had a number of people ask me for a copy of my remarks. With great humility, they are posted below.

"Thanks to all of you for being here today. This is a big event, not only in the lives of the artists whose work and talents we are acknowledging and encouraging today, but for me as well.

I am honored to be in the presence of greatness, and let me say in no uncertain terms that I have seen a lot of great art hanging on the walls at Heartwood that is part of the Scholastic Art Awards exhibition. You have much to be proud of for your accomplishments, and I am deeply grateful for the opportunity to talk to you today.

I'd like to talk about the Maine art tradition, and why it's important that we, as residents of this great state and as people who appreciate art, always be aware of that tradition and treat it with a sort of reverential respect that it deserves.

Before I begin, I'd like to acknowledge Berri Kramer and Susan Wilder, the president and dean of Heartwood College of Art, respectively, and as Berri noted in her remarks, Marcia Hamlyn, and the entire Heartwood staff and community.

In her remarks, Berri talked about the process that Heartwood went through to become host and presenter of this exhibition and these awards. I'd like to talk briefly about why it's important.

These awards did not exist last year. For a variety of reasons, the previous host of Scholastic Art Awards in Maine had to pull out of the process, and Maine went without an exhibition and contest last year.

Which was really a shame. Maine students deserve the chance to compete nationally, and they were deprived of that opportunity, to no fault of their own. So it's a big thing that Heartwood stepped up, made the commitment financially and otherwise, and got behind this year's program.

So, again, to Heartwood College of Art -- thank you.

That little bit of context ties directly into what I really want to talk about for the next few minutes. I mentioned it moments ago, and it's worth repeating: The Maine Art Tradition.

Those words are like magic to me. In my job as arts reporter for the Portland Press Herald/Maine Sunday Telegram, I have the lucky opportunity to see a lot of very good art of all kinds, all across this state.

I can say without question that Maine art is magical, because Maine is a magical place. There is something that happens here that is different -- tangibly and substantially different -- than any place else. It's a natural thing, and not something that is manufactured or fabricated.

We hear a lot about the Maine light, which is a natural wonder that is unique to our geography. The way the sun's rays hits the earth at our latitude, and the angle of the sun at certain times of year, and the way the sun plays off the water and the fog and the rocks and trees, that's all part of it.

Many years ago, long before I was an arts reporter, I worked for the Morning Sentinel newspaper up in Waterville. It was my first job out of college, and I knew nothing about art. My assignment that day was to cover the opening of either a new exhibition or a new wing at the Colby College museum. Alex Katz -- the great contemporary painter who summers up the coast and who has been incredibly generous to Colby and other Maine museums -- was at the museum that day, either for an opening of one his exhibitions or for the opening of the now-famous Katz wing.

I honestly can't remember the occasion, but Katz was there and my job was to interview him. He was the first person who ever mentioned those words to me, in that order: The Maine Light. He tried to explain why he keeps coming back to Maine, year after year, to paint. He said it has everything to do with the way the clouds form in the sky each August. It's never July, never September. August. He told me watch the clouds in August, and I would understand.

And of course, he was right. For Katz, the Maine Light was about the clouds, and the way the cumulus clouds roll in and roll out and work their wonder for him and his creative mind.

He articulated something for me that day that most of us take for granted and know simply as a beautiful summer day in Maine. But for an artist, it's never that simple. Artists see things differently. They notice details. They ask questions. They observe. And then they react, and their reactions, whether played out as oil-on-canvas painting or a black and white photo or a ceramic sculpture or anything else, is for our benefit.

Artists look within and express what all of us know as the truth, but that we sometimes cannot name. It's a remarkable talent and a courageous act of self-expression.

What makes it unique in Maine is the wonder of our landscape. We live in a famously beautiful place. We have the benefit of this place that we call home to inspire us day after day, and propel us forward. When I first started writing about the arts, I used to tell people that I had the best job in Maine: I got to interview interesting people and visit some of the most beautiful places. I still feel that way. Even in the winter.

So the landscape is important, and has been forever. Maine's art tradition goes way back. You can trace it to its native roots, and talk about the traditional native arts, and basket-making and canoe-making and all those important crafts. But when I talk about Maine art, I like to talk about the painters who began coming here in the 1800s.

When we think of Maine, we think of many things, because we live here. But when people from away think of Maine, they think about the Maine they see in a Winslow Homer painting, or a Berenice Abbott photograph, or a watercolor by Andrew Wyeth. The image of Maine for the outside world is largely based on how artists see and interpret the state.

I've never traveled overseas, but I know people who have. And invariably, they have conversations with foreigners who have never been to our country and never been to Maine, but they imagine what Maine looks like based on how others have interpreted it. They know Maine. They know about the waves breaking over the rocks, because of a Winslow Homer painting they have seen.

Or they understand the idea of snow packed in tall trees because of a Neil Welliver painting. Or maybe it's a lobster boat by George Bellows or an image of Mount Katahdin by Marsden Hartley. But in their mind, they know Maine, and it's because of the artists who have chosen to live and work here over the years.

To the students we are honoring here today, I say the path that you are on in a noble path, and it's one with a great history and dignity in this state. I know there are a lot of parents in the audience who wonder about the ability of their sons and daughters to make a reasonable living if they choose to study art and pursue art as a profession.

But let me remind you that being an artist these days does not necessarily mean you have paint pretty pictures. The car you drive, the house you live in and the sports teams you root for, all are touched by the hand of an artist. Everything we see, everything we do in our lives, is influenced by the artists around us. They are our aesthetic police.

Whether it's a VW bug or a high-powered Hummer, somewhere in the manufacturing process an artist influenced that vehicle's design and gave it its unique character.

An artist's influence affected the way that the Portland built its new cruise-ship terminal, for better or worse, and artist had a lot to do with color choices and redesign decisions behind the news logos of the Boston Red Sox.

I guess what I am trying to say is that art and creative expression, no matter their form, are part of our lives and part of our identity in tangible ways. Your sons and your daughters may not grow up and become the next Andrew Wyeth. In fact, they probably won't. But they probably won't become the next Tom Brady, either, and that fact never stops people from sending their kids out for football practice.

So let them go and create, and let's encourage them and cheer them on. I suspect that I am preaching the choir in this room, given the fact that you have all taken the time to be here. But it needs to be said, because in these current times of budget crises and economic woe, it seems that the first things that get cut in our schools are the art programs. And that's not only wrong and unfair, it's short-sighted.

Art matters. Art is important, and art makes people better, smarter and wiser. Put simply, it helps us see the world in a different light. And that's what Alex Katz was talking about that day many years ago at Colby.

I want to close by quoting a student named Sarah Simonds, who won a Scholastic Art Awards honor a few years ago. She was a student of Sonja Johnson at Rangeley Lakes Regional School. Berri spoke earlier about Rangeley's impressive art accomplishments over the years. Two years ago, I went up there to find out why Rangeley has done so well for so long at Scholastic Art Awards.

Sonja introduced me to Sarah Simonds, and we talked about art and the role that Sarah envisioned art playing in her life. Sarah wasn't planning to study art as her college major, but wanted enough background in art so that it would be a part of her life forever.

She told me she viewed the world as a painter. Everything she looked at, everything she saw, she did through the filter of an artist. And because of that, she saw thing differently than I might. Again, she saw them in a different light.

She said -- and I quote -- 'I don't just see things. I see the beauty in things. That will serve me well no matter what I do with my life.'

I think that pretty well says it all.

Again, thank you very much for having me, congratulations and good luck."

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