As is true with a lot of my recent posts, there is so much more that I want to say than there is time to say it. So this is going to be too brief, but I'll hit the high points.
There are a number of craft schools around the country that are committed to maintaining and spreading craft traditions, as well as moving craft practice forward into the 20th century. By "craft" I mean medium specific crafts like ceramics, blacksmithing, wood working, wood turning, fibers, jewelry making. Interesting to think about craft in the 21st century, and I do keep wondering when coding will be added to the list at schools like these.
At any rate, there are two craft schools that are prominent in my life: Arrowmont School of Art and Craft in Gatlinburg, Tennessee and Haystack Mountain School of Craft in Deer Isle, Maine. I'll write in the next post about Haystack, this post is about Arrowmont.
I started going to Arrowmont in 1999 or 2000, I think. I know my first workshop was with a sculptor named Jack Slentz. It was my first introduction to the idea that art and craft could really be a viable path for anyone, and it was, to put it mildly, a seminal moment in my life. Over the next few years, my wife and I (through the auspices of my mother) met my sister and mother at Arrowmont every summer for a week of making and art and music in a way that deeply affected my life. It is not hyperbole to say that going to Arrowmont was the catalyst that made me decide to quit theater, apply to and attend RISD, and become a furniture designer and maker.
Because of this, I was honored and humbled to be asked to come lead a workshop at Arrowmont last summer (2016). It was in many ways a sign that I am doing what I "should be doing," whatever that means. What a joy it was.
Seven students, a TA (my old friend and inveterate weirdo Kevin Cwalina) and me. Two pianos, six days. It was a whirlwind, and it was hard for a lot of reasons. Hard but good. And several people walked away with something that made sound, though they were all pretty strange.
Integral to the experience, I think, was the dismantling of the pianos. They are such wonder-full objects, in the sense that they are full of wonder, as am I every time I dismantle one. I think I am at eleven pianos now, though I may be missing one. What incredible machines. I am so glad we can give them new life. And the great thing about working with other people is that they think totally differently about them than I do.
I have tended to make guitar-y instruments, but they (as you will see) were much less confinced to that. Here are some images:
|Beginning the dismantling.|
|A good group of weirdos.|
|This did not get finished during the workshop, but it was big and strange, that's for sure.|
|A tenor guitar. I really liked the way this student used the music rack as ornament. I always just throw that thing away.|
|This was like a mini-koto. It sounded great.|
|An almost-finished tenor guitar.|
|A really lovely bluetooth speaker gramophone. It sounds pretty amazing when you play music through it.|