Hippie Homesteaders: Arts, Crafts, Music and Living on the Land in West Virginia

Preface

ix Preface I am a daughter of the hills—born and bred, as we say in WestVirginia.Yet until 1970, I did not realize I was an Appalachian as well. I’d grown up in the city but ridden horseback through the woods behind my grandparents ’ home. I walked blacktop streets to school, then escaped on weekends to the outskirts of my neighborhood to play in caves. The tug of those hills was strong, the comfort in them complete. One autumn weekend at Hawks Nest State Park, in the company of those who already knew, I found my roots. I’d recently become the director of a craft cooperative and felt I needed a quick orientation into the culture I’d be serving. Hammered dulcimer music touched my soul. A lecture on the roots of Appalachia-speak explained why my refined grandmother always said, “He don’t.” In a display of Scottish tartans I found the one I could claim as my own, and I understood: I am a daughter of the Appalachian immigration of the seventeen hundreds and eighteen hundreds. For nearly fifteen years, I worked with scores of rural women to help bring their beautifully handcrafted quilts and clothing to sophisticated markets all over the United States. The experience enriched me and showed me a simple, rural life I’d disdained as a girl. It’s true that an abiding love of the land often kept their families on now non-productive farms, and that a lack of education kept the breadwinners in low-income jobs. In some instances, the women had never been outside their community their entire lives. Nevertheless, their honesty, integrity, and pride were as true as the stitches in their quilts. If these women agreed to do a job, you could count on it. I came to love these wash-dressed women, their hair pulled back into a severe knot at the nape of the neck or permanent waved into a mass of x Hippie Homesteaders tight curls every three months. And I came to know the voices of Appalachian women—those of many generations in the mountains. During this period, as Appalachian Craftsmen, Inc. exhibited at the annual Mountain State Art & Craft Fair in Ripley, and the semi-annual Mountain Heritage Arts & Crafts Festival in Harpers Ferry, West Virginia, I began to see a different cut of artisan. Scattered among the scores of homegrown craftsmen were candlemakers, basketmakers, potters, wood sculptors , weavers, photographers, stained glass artists, leather crafters, and print makers who didn’t speak with the twang I’d become accustomed to in rural West Virginia voices. I soon learned they were not natives but had chosen to make West Virginia their home.Why they came mattered not; we were simply West Virginia artisans trying to eke out a living. Fast-forward to 1996. I returned to West Virginia after a ten-year absence , grateful to be back in the comforting mountains. I discovered Tamarack and learned that when it was built, West Virginia was the only state in the country with an entire facility dedicated to showcasing the work of its artisans. As I wandered through the displays, I excitedly recognized the names of many of my old show-mates—now highly successful, nationally distinguished artisans whose work had put West Virginia on the map in a positive manner. I remembered when they were just beginning their careers; now they formed the core of West Virginia’s reputation as a fountainhead of fine art and handcrafts. Suddenly, I began to wonder: what had brought those immigrant artisans to West Virginia? After several inquiries, I discovered that many were part of the back-to-the-land movement. Why West Virginia? How did they find the state? What drew them? Did they love the hills like the state’s natives? Was there something unique about their West Virginia experience that contributed to their success? Curious, I began a two-year journey visiting forty-five artisans, musicians, and performers—most of whom I’d known during our years together on the craft circuit—to learn their answers. I discovered that they came for various reasons, but found the same charm in those ancient hills. However, it’s the totality of their arrival that made such an impact on the state. One or two would not have created a xi Preface movement—they’d have been an anomaly, either accepted by those around them...