From Whimmydiddles To Where We Are: An Opinionated Study Of Appalachian Craft Design

From Whimmydiddles To Where We Are: An Opinionated Study Of Appalachian Craft Design by Garry Barker (The following is an excerpt from a forthcoming book entitled The Appalachian Craft Revival: 1935-1985) For more than three decades southbound tourists wound slowly around and over the hills of Kentucky, Tennessee, and North Carolina on crowded US 25E, a winding two-lane asphalt ribbon which was Appalachia's major north/south artery for most of this century. The narrow roadway twisted out of Berea to Cumberland Gap, over Clinch Mountain to Bean Station in Tennessee, around the TVA lakes to Newport and Hot Springs, followed the French Broad River to Asheville, then dropped down to flatter lands and the direct route to Florida. Travelers motored past Fort Sequoyah and Dog Patch, past chained rocks and chained black bear cubs, whitewashed diners and quaint tourist cabins; past roadside stands overflowing with sourwood honey and clumps of bright orange bittersweet. Most stopped to buy from these roadside merchants, to dig through racks of gaudy chenille bedspreads and bathrobes, with peacock designs, heavy chalk roosters and plaster-of-paris nativity scenes, Comanche warbonnets, and crude chairs pinned together with rusted nails. Storefronts advertising mountain handicrafts stocked their shelves with corncob pipes and corncob jelly, Confederate battle flags and "hillbilly" dolls, teddy bears and landscaped china plates, tufted rugs, and longbilled green sun visors. Today busy Interstate Seventy-five whisks the tourist through Kentucky and over Jellico mountain in bland efficiency . A new four-lane road bisects troublesome Clinch Mountain, and Interstate Forty, from Newport, Tennessee, to Asheville, North Carolina, is one of America's most scenic-and expensively maintained-stretches of modern roadway . The old roadside stands are largely gone, but handicraft markets still thrive in places like downtown Gatlinburg, Tennessee, and Cherokee, North Carolina , garish wastelands of gimmickry and imported gadgets. Millions of Americans have traveled through the very heart of Appalachia, spent their cash and crawled happily across Mt. LeConte in slow bear-watching processions, and gone home carrying indelible impressions of Appalachians as plastic people. To many travelers, we must surely be perceived as some oddball cross between Southwest Plains Indians, drooling Little Abner hillbillies, and America's major manufacturers of firecrackers. But increasingly large numbers of tourists seek out the craft shops in Berea, track down the superb studio crafts89 people of Gatlinburg, visit the Qualla Arts & Crafts Mutual in Cherokee, and tour the Southern Highland Folk Art Center on the Blue Ridge Parkway in Asheville. Craft fairs, exhibitions, and media coverage are working, giving good exposure to Appalachia s quality crafts, building an increased awareness of the excellence of design and workmanship which gives the region's crafts a lasting impact. Craftsmanship-detailed, skilled, intricate hand workmanship-is the benchmark of Appalachia's craftspeople. For the most part, the reputation is well deserved . Appalachian craft design is another matter, a hotly disputed issue between folklorists, production centers, educators, and contemporary designercraftspeople . There is not one simple agreeable answer to the question: Just what is Appalachian craft design? Patchwork quilts, handwoven coverlets , split oak egg baskets, animal carvings , and rustic brooms are generally considered native to Appalachia, but the same crafts are also part of ancient cultures all over the world. Many insist that the Appalachian dulcimer is a true development of the region, but North Carolina dulcimer maker Edsel Martin saw it differently when interviewed in Edward DuPuy's book Artisans of the Appalachians : "As far back as I can trace it," said Martin, "it was the third chapter of Daniel; I believe it was King Nebuchadnezzar. That's as far back as I want to take it."1 Appalachia's traditional craftspeople were never overly concerned about a design history, nor were they impressed by new innovations. While traveling up Crank's Creek in Kentucky during the 1920s, Clementine Douglas admired a weaver's coverlet: My hostess said, "Thatun's called Bonaparte's Defeat." I said I'd heard tell of Bonaparte and she said, "Hit don't mean a thing; it's jest how you call it." When I asked about another, she said, "We just call it 'Ma Took a Notion.'"2 Design inspiration in Appalachia is...