NO LONGER JUST FOR TEENS
Long a gathering place for city’s youth, Warehouse 21 sets new course, with new model and new name
When Warehouse 21 founder Ana Gallegos y Reinhardt was casting about for a name for a spinoff teen arts center in the Railyard back in 1996, she thought of the number 21. It was a dual-branding idea, she said: “We’re going into the 21st century, and if you are 21 and under, this is a great program for you.”
The word “warehouse” was easy to add because the center, once located in an old graffiti-covered warehouse space, had been called the CCA Warehouse when it was under the umbrella of the Center for Contemporary Arts. The dilapidated building was demolished in 2007, temporarily displacing the teens.
Reinhardt, who has been with the nonprofit for 21 years, saw it through its move in 2008 to a new $2.5 million, two-story building on Paseo de Peralta, not far from the original site. The new building, five times the size of the old warehouse and funded in part by the city of Santa Fe, included a state-of-the-art recording studio, performance areas and a digital media lab. Teens lent a hand in covering part of the building’s interior and exterior walls with graffiti art — a nod to its predecessor.
For years, teens have congregated at Warehouse 21 to put on concerts, perform theater, study art and dance, learn about radio production or do nothing more than hang out and watch videos. One of them is 18-year-old Ali Marin, who has been spending time there for about four years.
“Warehouse 21 has always been like a second home to me,” she said.
But the center is undergoing major changes, and Marin and other teens aren’t sure how they feel about it.
Earlier this year, Reinhardt told the organization’s board that it was time for her to leave. Board President Kim Langbecker and a new board of directors now are preparing to overhaul the facility, even giving it a new name — Studio Center of Santa Fe — and developing an expanded mission. Their goal is to broaden the organization’s educational outreach programs and make space for artist studios, an open gallery area and a cafe to draw in train commuters from the Rail Runner Express and other visitors.
“The term ‘studio center’ refers to the fact that we will divide the building up into studios,” board member Peter Sills said, adding “a gallery-performance space, classrooms, a media lab — interconnected but still separate institutions among themselves.”
Ten-year-old Paolo Buis, who said he once took part in an art exhibition at the center, said the new name is “kind of catchy, but it doesn’t
have the spark of ‘Warehouse 21.’ ”
Marin said the new name has “a sort of different, sophisticated vibe. … When you hear ‘Warehouse 21,’ you think of youth.”
The name’s new vibe wasn’t an accident. The board is working to draw a more sophisticated crowd.
The graffiti art on the inside walls is already gone.
While the center will continue to focus on teens, Sills said the organization aims to appeal to those well beyond the age of 21, to those into their mid- to late 30s.
The board plans to convert an expansive performance arena on the bottom floor — long a popular concert venue for young musicians — into the smaller spaces, where established professional artists from the community would offer workshops to teach youth not just how to make art, but how to make a career out of art, including marketing and installing an exhibition. The board members hope to bring in multicultural and international artists.
Sills said Studio Center of Santa Fe wants to ensure that visiting teens are engaged in some meaningful activity.
“I do not want to see Studio Center become a glorified free baby-sitting service,” he said. “We want to have these kids involved, have these kids be productive.”
David Sloane, 37, who volunteers at Warehouse 21’s screen printing studio, said he has seen fewer teens coming around to put on live shows at the center lately. “It’s not the center for kids anymore,” he said. “That energy seems to be moving to the south side of town.”
Other community-arts venues, including Meow Wolf, have perhaps drawn some of the youthful energy away from Warehouse 21, but Langbecker and Sills said they do not view Meow Wolf or any other youth or arts groups as competition. Sills said he hopes Meow Wolf artists will come to the Studio Center of Santa Fe to teach classes.
Reinhardt said she initiated the change back in February when she created an advisory board of Langbecker, Sills, Paul Rainbird and Craig Anderson — all of whom had prior experience running or working with nonprofits — and told them, “Warehouse 21 had grown up. It needs to transition now. This is the time to do it.”
Both the Railyard area and the city of Santa Fe have grown and changed over the past two decades, she said, and Warehouse 21 — which often has grappled with financial challenges — needs “a more sustainable long-term plan and a new model.”
Langbecker and Reinhardt declined to talk about the organization’s financial
standing. According to its tax records for 2014, the most recent available online, it reported a loss that year, with total revenues of about $588,000 and expenses of about $612,700.
Reinhardt, whose last day was Oct. 31, said she was part of the team that came up with the new name. But she, Sills and Langbecker kept referring to the center as Warehouse 21 throughout interviews with The New Mexican.
“I don’t think even we will be comfortable referring to it as Studio Center of Santa Fe until the transition is complete,” Sills said.
It could take six months before the public sees any changes while the board raises money and works to draw in partners, supporters and donors.
“We’re going into a little bit of a cocoon to emerge as a butterfly in the spring,” Langbecker said.
Reinhardt, who worked as a nurse dealing with socially and emotionally challenged teens for years before she started working for an array of Santa Fe nonprofits, including Santa Fe Performing Arts, was a constant presence at Warehouse 21, often opening the doors early in the morning and shutting the place down around midnight.
“I actually slept for 15 hours on my first day off after leaving Warehouse,” Reinhardt said. “Because I knew I could.”