Focal Points I

The new fiscal year is underway, and as noted in my last post (far too many days ago, sorry to say!) I've resumed doing fieldwork in the Perkins Center Folklife Project region, following up on established leads and contacts, while also exploring new ground.  In January my work took me back to Pemberton, and also to Florence, Jobstown, and Wrightstown among other places.  A primary objective has been to continue exploring woodworking traditions and follow-up on my interest in what I've come to call the "legacy" of Bill Lucas.  I don't know whether this term is accurate or appropriate just yet, for for now it will function as a placeholder of sorts, until I'm able to learn more and make a better judgment.  Unfortunately, I've had to postpone important follow-up activity I'd planned to do in this connection, partly due to the current round of flu virus, which has bitten more than one person I've tried to reach in this new year.  That situation should improve, however, as winter (influenza's favored season) begins to wind down.

Meanwhile, this post will focus briefly on some aspects of my work in the region as it's begun to take new shape in this new year.  I'll say for starters that, having done fieldwork for a number of years throughout the northeast and beyond, I'm always amazed at the wealth of cultural production going on in communities everywhere.  This activity of cultural production isn't always obvious, is sometimes done on a casual basis, is sometimes pitched at a very low-key.  (That's why fieldwork has become such a "necessary" activity.)  But artists and artisans who choose to operate in what I'll term a "vernacular" framework, whatever their mode of working or style of work, are almost always concerned with expressing something significant about a place -- something that usually relates to historical experience and cultural awareness as these unfold locally.  Perhaps that's all the definition we need for the moment, for the term "vernacular" -- at least as I understand it.

I recently visited a framing gallery in Columbus called East Street Art, where the proprietors, Ken and Mary Davis, host a weekly gathering of artists, in addition to conducting all other regular business of the shop.  Needless to say, the artist gatherings and shop business are interrelated.  I happened to visit there on a frigidly cold morning in January, which held attendance down to what Ken described as a historic low.  There were a few artists in attendance, however, and they were patient and friendly as I played the role of interlocutor, looking over their shoulders as they worked, asking questions, and all the while engaging in on-again off-again conversation with Ken.

East Street Art, 24595 East Main Street, Columbus

Based on my limited experience in the shop, I'd say that East Street Art is a significant focal point of its community, where different kinds of energy come into alignment, and work together.  I think that cultural production of various kinds arises in just such settings.  When you walk into East Street Art, you at first notice the equipment and supplies connected to the framing business.  You next notice that there's artwork hanging everywhere, some of it for sale, some of it framed and set out to be picked up by customers.  But Ken Davis is also a collector, and his collection, which he has on display in the shop, consists mainly of a variety of old farm tools, which were gathered from the surrounding area as well as from Ken's trips to Vermont.  Most, though, are from the area we define as our folklife project region.

Ken has placed the tools up above, in the rafters of the shop, where they are displayed in a kind of "open storage" system -- something akin to how it's done at the Mercer Museum in Doylestown.  Of course, nothing but the most general comparison can be made between the two places; for one thing, the Mercer collections are vast!  But Ken's collection of tools and implements has substance, and presence, and I think it transforms the shop from mere business setting to cultural artifact in its own right.  The collection, and by extension the shop, is a touchstone and reference point, reflecting local agricultural history but also, and more importantly, providing a space for meaningful and memorable encounters with local history and culture.

Memory Painting by Don Jones, Florence

It makes me think of paintings I've seen by an artist named Don Jones, who lives in nearby Florence, and whom I've already mentioned in a previous post on this blog.  (Don is the person who first suggested that I visit with Ken.)  Don is an artist who since retiring from his job as a graphic designer, has begun to explore local history through the lens of art.  Don grew up on a farm in Florence; his memories of that experience, and of the people he knew as a boy, are finding their way into his paintings.

Speaking with Ken, asking about art I saw on display in his shop, and talking about the Pine Barrens hunting club he belongs to, I learned about another local artist, living in nearby Jobstown.  Ken suggested I look him up, and I was able to do that soon afterwards.  I'll return to East Street Art in another post.