A Love Letter to the Appalachians

I am still in the coming-down-from-a-high state after spending the Spring in Western North Carolina. The experience is more than I can truly put into words (you had to be there), but I'll do my best to share some reflections on my time as a resident at Township 10, and an invited artist at the NC Mountains Preheat during Woodfire NC, a gathering of woodfirers from around the world.

T10
When I left Canada and headed South in late April, I was looking forward to a studio space where I could work on projects I'd been dreaming of for years, and perhaps pick up a new rhythm in my art practice. Exercise new muscles, learn from others, share my knowledge and enthusiasm for woodfiring.

As it turned out, those were the simplest aspects of my time at T10. My expectations were met, but there were more gifts than I could have imagined. I didn't realize I would come home changed, having met humans who brought joy and inspiration and understanding to my life that I didn't know were missing. I didn't realize I would be bringing home a sense of belonging and camaraderie, a deep admiration for rhododendrons and windy roads, a greater appreciation for life and the relationships in it, enough artwork to weigh down my car - pots shoved in with the spare tire and another box sent home with friends. I didn't realize I would come home pining for hills, and barbecue, and studio mates, and evenings on the porch with mini tubs of icecream, cups of tea, and candlelight. I didn't realize I would be grieving.

Marjorie Dial has created something truly special in Marshall. Township 10 is a space for one to rest, heal, and transform. It's a place for artists to feed themselves in whatever way suits them. I quickly fell into a new routine that suited me just fine. Wake early, carry my pot of tea and a book from the library down to the tobacco barn and sit in the trees with the birds for hours. Come up to cook breakfast, say hello to the folks on the porch or in the kitchen or crossing the lawn. Stand in the studio and stare out at the trees. Sketch. Move. Watch shadows. Make shadows. Visit the butterflies congregating on the driveway. Pinch wild clay. Coat them in slip. Take a break for lunch, or a nap, or both. Run along the windy roads, past the cattle and the sheep, following East Fork creek. Return to the studio. Pinch more clay. Make more shadows. Family dinners on the porch as the sun went down and the peepers came out. Return to the studio. Stare at the dark shapes on the horizon. Trace them with a pencil. Over the weeks, watch the fireflies come out.

Woodfire Conference
We set out on a week long conference to fire 6 kilns at the same time with over 50 participants. In the end, we spent a week building friendships that will last forever, laughing more than I've laughed in years. There were frogs and crawdads coming out of the woodwork thanks to a week of heavy rain. We had three chimneys ablaze at once, a little city wide awake at 3am when the rest of the mountains were sleeping. We clambered down rocky cliffs and descended into the river bed. Floated in the current and washed off all the soot, then returned to be covered again. We lay on rocks in the sun. We gave each other haircuts, played tug of war on a tarp of wet clay, and threw sponges filled with slip at each other. We bathed in the creek, moved a lot of wood, made each other tea at night and coffee in the morning. We sang karaoke while the kilns cooled (and another was still firing). We played games, and bribed the judges, and wore silly costumes and were covered in mud, and it took days for our shoes to fully dry out. We looked at a lot of art. We ate a lot of good food. We shared our stories and our hearts, all while the firebox crackled at night. We lay bricks and cooked on chimneys. We danced, we camped, we worked really really hard. We were a living, breathing example of what the world could look like. A gang of loving, hard working, and welcoming friends. A group unafraid of failure. A group willing to take themselves less seriously. Working collectively and respectfully despite our many differences.

It was an example of the profound strength that love has. Enough to take a random collection of adults from across the world, and within 7 days, have created a space where all are comfortable being vulnerable, where everyone is appreciated, and where after all that work, the least important thing we made was the art. Perhaps the community was the greatest art project of all.

I have always known that woodfiring is more than the sum of its parts. It is more than stacking and unstacking wood. It is more than burning that wood and making beautiful objects. It is more than the night shifts and the early mornings, and the hot afternoons in the sun. It's about the people, and our time together. Woodfiring is sharing in a physical, emotional, and mental experience. Problem solving and conversation. Listening and watching, and learning as much about yourself as you do about the world around you. Woodfiring is art in practice.

I've been busy considering what it is that made this event so special and frankly, I really haven't put my finger on it. But if I could take a guess, I could say that there is significance in working together as a collective, towards a common good. Focusing on a common goal. Prioritizing and honouring the experience. Showing humility, and grace. Learning together. Sharing together. Like the crew of a ship, when I win, we all win. If I fail, we all fail. There is no I, there is only us. Part of the ship, part of the crew.

I'm sure I'll be daydreaming and writing about my five weeks in North Carolina for months (years) to come. I will be back. Hopefully soon. But in the meantime, I'd like to share some thanks for the folks who made it truly special, and deserve an introduction.

A thanks to Josh Copus for inviting me to be part of the crew at the conference, for putting your trust in us, and for putting our group of residents together. If you don't know of Josh yet, do yourself a favour and follow along with his journey. He is the most inspirational human I know, hands down.

Thanks to Marjorie Dial for building and facilitating such a beautiful space at T10, for your endless generosity and gift of time, support, and encouragement. Your gift was a breath of fresh air that was sorely needed.

Special love to Nancy Fuller and Horacio Casillas for being the most supportive, respectful, and caring co-residents, housemates, and studio mates. I learned so much about myself, life, and art from these two, and will forever be remembering the joy felt when in their company. Clay family for life.

Thanks also to Kyle Lawson and Em Suman for helping make our stay at T10 a joy filled and inspiring one. Thanks for all the hard work you do, for sharing your space with us, and helping us find "home" in Marshall.

And to the many friends made and reconnected at the Mountains Preheat - I love y'all!