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The Place of Writing in Cultural Geography

From the pen of one of our most accomplished geographical practitioners comes this provocative conclusion: "Geography will deserve to be called an art only when a substantial number of geographers become artists" (Meinig 1983, 325). That succinct declaration, delivered to the Institute of British Geographers some two decades past, has stirred my geography since I first read those words as a novice professional. I have read them many times since, asked my students to contemplate their nuance and verve, and queried its author about their reception. At the heart of the essay that holds this pronouncement is the basic notion that geographers can contribute to the humanities at least as much as we profess to do social science. As artists, however, geographers must embrace, not shun, work that is highly personal, sometimes emotional, and most importantly, strives to be an individual creation. This is not an easy path to follow when so many in our tribe are, as Clifford Geertz (1983, 3) said of social scientists, allergic to anything literary or inexact. Cultural geographers, arguably, have been some of the most individualistic practitioners of our craft, mavericks many and generally proud of that distinction (Schein 2004). But to declare all cultural geographers artists is not exactly what D. W. Meinig had in mind when he spoke about geography as an art. Rather, his essay is more an invitation to tolerance and acceptance of a style of geographical thinking and communicating that can broaden our horizons and persuade non-geographers to our contributions. Meinig (1971) has been our most thoughtful and persistent ambassador of this humane message, but he is not alone. Paul Starrs (1999, 194), for one, asserts that writing in the style of a convincing, well-crafted essay about place is what geography needs to bring public attention to our art, our bricolage, as he calls it, a supremely accomplished tinkering and telling. In his National Book Critics Circle Award winning volume Works and Lives: The Anthropologist as Authol, ethnographer Clifford Geertz (1988) argues boldly that it is not through an abundance of data that we convince, rather, it is through writing. We also convince, Geertz continues, by having penetrated another way of life, of having, one way or another, truly been there. For many a cultural geographer being there typically means being in the field--that nearly unique place of inspiration for our writings. Fundamental to the success of writing as an instrument that convinces is the need to establish a voice in one's written work. While this is often asserted as a goal for any successful writer, too many authors seem content to let others crowd their writings, and thus their original voice is indecipherable. Taking command of our subjects, with a confident authority, is critical to the convincing geographical essay. Clarity of thought is certainly prerequisite in this task, but also clarity of writing, a willingness to sidestep the mandarin language of the day, and engage simple direct prose that connects ideas to evidence, that promotes both understanding and appreciation. …