Traditional Arts and Other Crafts

Are they Art or Craft?

On the appointed Saturday, we planned our pilgrimage to the Nakashima workshop. It is located on the outskirts of New Hope. We had never been to New Hope, which was billed as a picturesque historic town. On the following Sunday, in Allentown was to be an “Outsider Art” festival. The festival was to be held at Cedar Creek Park the same location as the Science Center we had previously visited. We decided to stay over in the centrally located Tohickton Campground again. The wooden covered bridge welcomed us.

New Hope is as discreetly upscale as Beverly Hills is ostentatious. As we passed the new state of the art Firehall, I was impressed by the excellent architecture. How to make a utilitarian public building blend into a colonial background without sacrificing any of the practical aspects. The actual downtown was as picturesque as it had been billed. Small brick buildings lined the winding street leading over a footbridge. There were more

“modern american / asian fusion” cafes and craft art galleries than I could count. The crafts were definitely a cut above T-shirt shop souvenir level but never the less resembled many other crafty collections. Interspersed with the eateries were more shopperies, every better brand seemed to be represented. Attractive or not, not really my kinda place. My preference tends towards funky family-run hole in the walls and crowded charity-run thrift shops. Francis was thoroughly unimpressed; he was dreaming of Nakashima Saturday.

The Nakashima Studio Workshop is technically in New Hope but out of town in a forest setting. Access even with directions written and digital led down one rural lane into another. The farms and woodland estates were wide spread, so the house numbers were hard to follow. Did we miss that turn? Yes, we did. Did we pass the house number? Yes, we did. By the time we arrived, we had made as many U turns as conventional ones. We would have passed the studio a second time but for sighting a glimpse of sukiya style walls though the foliage. We were a bit early and the parking lot was largely empty. No one seemed apparent and we wandered around unescorted. 

While I am careful not to touch or meddle with anything, I have tend to ignore “do not enter” signs. I call out for advice and if no one responds I discreetly peer in and explore. This I must admit to doing in the actual wood working area. There was table being clamped on a worksurface. It was fascinating to me to observe the position and type of clamps used to construct the furniture. Which tools were actually used? A combination of japanese chisels and hand tools, supplemented by normal home power hand tools and a few top of the line floor units.

Slipping back on the approved tour, there was an smaller workshop open to the public. It was used for chair construction, no power tools here, and the parts ready for assemble were as shapely as any craft sold in the stores downtown. For a wood worker it was very informative to see the kinds of adhesives and finishing materials used. Next we proceeded to the sales room. A Nakashima niece welcomed us, distributing maps of the complex and provided a bit of family history. While an actual furniture item would be out of my price range, a catalog of current work was a good souvenir and funded the Nakashima Peace Project. It had been formed by George Nakashima as a non-profit dedicated to supporting world peace initiatives.

The sales room was a beautiful structure in its own right, as well as display room of phenomenal samples. Built in a traditional style of natural wood, the walls, floors and doors had achieved the deep glow of antique furniture. Delicate handmade paper set in hardwood frames screened the area while a wall of windows brought the forest outside into the space. It was a glorious fusion of traditional Japanese technique and sensibilities with modern American lifestyle. This was just the showroom. The refined beauty awaited us in the studio office. George Nakashima had taken the craft of woodworking and turned it into an artform glorifying the souls of trees.

Along the way, the previously empty workroom was now staffed. Photos in “The soul of a tree” showed a much younger man working with George Nakashima, this was one of his old hands. The gentleman at work was muttering about his glue not setting the way he wanted and reclamping his project. It was reassuring to think that even someone with decades of experience ran into problems. I shyly called out to him, could there possibly be a little scrap of wood, of which he would be disposing? A chunk of wood from Nakashima's workshop would be for me a perfect souvenir. He laughed and came over with a handful of beautifully grained mahogany cutoffs. Lovely samples of the grace in wood.

George Nakashima had begun as an architect. While now best known for his furniture, he had continued to experiment with building techniques. At his New Hope home he developed several cutting edge concrete roof systems, which one could see on his workshop buildings. The buildings each had unique contours, again combining Japanese tradition and .Mid-century Modern aesthetics. In the studio office we discovered extraordinary pieces on display, the interior itself was a gem and a six foot tall and wide burl screen was truly one of a kind.

Seated in a chair, greeting the gawkers was a fellow, who I thought bore a resemblance to some photos I had seen of the Nakashima family. He had a devilish sense of humor, aligned with Francis' and they were soon teasing each other about work in general and woodworking in particular. Indeed he was George's son, Kevin. I was entralled to meet the son of a personal hero. It was also a treat for me to see further echoes of my personal taste repeated; Kevin was wearing a large Navaho Belt buckle. Navaho sandcast work is a penchant of mine. When I admired his belt, he wanted to talk about silver and collecting. Kevin was happy to chat about any topic, lumber or jewelry! He had to turn his attentions to other visitors and we went downstairs to tour the stored lumber. Stacks of matched flitches, interesting odd shaped random slabs, perfect for chairs or small benches. The entire basement was full of drying hard wood boards, all emitting a smoky incense-like aroma. A feast for our eyes and a rich perfume to our noses.

As we wandered back up stairs, a petite older woman was entering the studio, in her hand she carried a Martin guitar case. Mira Nakashima! Since her Fathers death in 1990 she had not only filled the orders, recreating some of her Father's classic designs, but also created new Mira classics. She used the same method and techniques which she had learned in childhood, analyzing each tree trunk for the best cuttings, each piece of lumber for it's best use and hand marking each section for the best application. 

Pointing out the guitar case to Francis with a whispered “Mira”, he immediately began discussing wood and music. Indeed in the guitar case, was the Nakashima number one Dreadnought. She said, she now mostly played at church. Truly I felt it was an honor to meet his descendants, practical and familial, carrying on his aesthetic vision and, through the Peace Foundation, his ethical vision.

Having truly had an multifaceted experience we drove back to our campsite for a quiet evening. One does meet interesting people in a campground. Setting in front of a small camper next to us was large English Bulldog. While I made friends with the beast, Francis chatted with the owner. She was a mobile on-line programmer, living and working out of her RV. As long as she had internet she could work, supporting herself and the beast in comfort. They traveled throughout the country together living on their own terms on their own schedule. She was just one of many modern nomads we met on our short trips. 

Once my mental image had been folks living hermit-like off the grid, staying on undeveloped abandoned property or Bureau of Land Management vacant areas. Certainly, those folks have been and still are out there. This is a new movement, in part created by the internet. Community minded travelers, gainfully employed tax-payers creating a new mobile economy. The younger generation tends to have well paid on-line tech jobs, while their elders, often having reared a family conventionally or recently retired, move from temporary job to another. Nearby large seasonal sorting and packing houses (think Walmart or Amazon at Xmas) free campsites are provided to encourage these migrant workers to congregate. There are online communities to keep them digitally connected and mailing services to keep them physically connected. Artisans also found this nomadic life appealing. Character actors would appear in Renaissance Festivals during the season, take the roles of clerks, cooks and bottle washers off-season. Craft fairs we discovered also attracted their followers.

As the modern nomads were creating a outsider social community. In Allentown, they were encouraging an outsider art community, with it turned out an overlap of the two. On Sunday, we returned to Cedar Creek Park for the Outsider Arts Festival. Arrayed along one side of the Creek were booths and pavilions. An interesting variety of musical performances were in process. Emo local composers alternated with spoken word poetry, sonic jazz or Asian throat singing. There was something for every outre taste. In the various booths were examples of varied crafts, t-shirts with comic logos, painted plaques with motivational sayings, beaded jewelry. It was thematically a bit different from the usual craft fair but really just the same stuff.

All except in one booth. There was one booth with something neither Francis nor I had ever seen before. Engraved and stained into a variety of wooden objects were fine scraffito lines resembling bonsai trees or lightening strikes. It appeared to be some kind of wood burning technique but how would one create those fine fractal patterns? There was an old wooden kitchen table ennobled with these elegant motifs, kitchen chairs with similar designs on the back supports, as well as smaller treen. I was excited, something new and different! Clearly I was not alone in my interest as virtually every item was marked sold. The charming young woman staffing the booth explained that her boyfriend was the artisan so she was not exactly sure how it was done. They were semi-nomadic often traveling from one town to another for their craft fairs. She did divulge that the decorative motifs were a burning technique and involved a microwave transformer. This would become the kernel of a research project. For reference, they are called Litchenberg Figures, named after a 18^th century German physicist. Ya' never know where you'll learn something new!

While Francis and I found the outsider art rather conventional, albeit with a new wave twist, across the Creek at Cedar Creek College there was an on going, very traditional but to us wholly weird display. We discovered a marching band, drum majorette, baton twirling competition! Hoards of college students bedecked in colorful regalia were practicing their tunes and moves. The bands and drummers were all in quasi-military uniforms while the baton twirlers and flag tossers looked more cheerleaders. There were surely cheerleaders in the crowd as well. There were capes flapping, brass buttons gleaming and ostrich feather plumes flying on tall crowned hats. The cacophony of brass and drums at a dozen different tempos blended into a cheerful assault combined with the instructional shouts from group leaders. There were dance moves, gymnastic flips and tricky step maneuvers. Was this sport or an art form?

 Off to the side, we encountered a drum team practicing. They discussed the beats using a symbolic language. It sounded like they were speaking in Morse code, dit dah dit. Francis went over to discuss the drumming system with them. He recognized their chat as being very similar to the konnakkol system used by Indian Drummers, a system which can be traced back to prehistoric times. The young collegians had never heard of Indian rhythmic mnemonics. They were interested to learn that they were echoing an ancient tradition, vocalizing as a technique to communicate beats. Drumming is considered high art in India, but to these young men it was just technique. 

It is all a matter of perspective, from ours the college kids on the Creek were far more creative and rather bizarre compared to the outsiders on the left bank. Similarly, we had found a number of unexpected locales in calm rural Pennsylvania. Along the way we had once again been confronted with the quandary: What is the division between art and  craft? When does technique turn beauty into emotion? 

Further Adventures in PA 

Pyramids, Roasting Corn and Solar Power

Between New Hope and Allentown, is Quakertown. While Quakertown has its suburban aspects, most of the area is extremely rural. Small farms, picturesque barns and old stone houses dominate the rolling hillsides. Tohickton Creek runs through the town. We found a wonderful campground right alongside the Creek. The entrance to the campground is through an old covered wooden bridge and the ruins of an old mill sits by the main gate. The campground office is housed in an ancient stone foundation barn. There was a new swimming pool, a large bath house and even a cafe on site. A perfect combination of bucolic splendor and modern conveniences.

While the camp ground was located just a short drive from our destinations, the area of Bucks County was so attractive we found ourselves driving around just to look at the structures. Francis would drive and I'd tell him slow down or stop, in order that I could photograph the beautifully maintained stone houses and the equally attractive run down wooden barns. Just along the lane from the campground was a perfectly picturesque rusted pickup truck next to a faded wood barn surrounded by old trees. It was a picture postcard.

While on one of these scenic drives we were astounded to see a field stone pyramid and a white pillared replica of a roman temple. What was lurking in Bucks County? We later returned so I could investigate. It is called Beverly Hall and has housed a Rosicrucian Order since 1899! 

In addition to the temple and three pyramids, one of which is a flowing fountain, there is a gazebo with a replica of the winged Venus of Somethrace, several traditional stone houses and two enormous solar collector arrays. As though the juxtaposition of Ancient Greece, Egypt and Rome with colonial architecture was not odd enough, the ultra-modern banks of solar collectors pushed the scene to bizarre.

Throughout the grounds were somewhat abandoned gardens. Two ponds filled out the bottom of the gentle hillside. The gazebo overlooked one, which was filled with lotus blossoms just beginning to go into seed pods. Nearby the stone houses lay a small lake of water lilies. 


There were a number of gardeners planting roses in structured beds around the pyramids. They told me that the site had been closed and gardens neglected for some time due to litigation between the Rosey leadership but now was going to reopen to the public. There had been over five hundred roses what had been a memorial garden and they intended to return it to its former glory. Instead of tombstones, cremation ashes were placed under a rose bush. This burial option is available to anyone, whether or not they were members of the sect. The memorial garden was not a somber spot. It had been a popular spot both for quiet contemplation and for events, such as weddings. When the roses bloom in the garden and the lotus and lilies open in the pond, it will be a glorious display!

The Clymer family had been involved from the beginning. Beverly Hall is on Clymer Road. Dr. Clymer had incorporated the Hall in 1909. The family was apparently still active in the area. Several signs had indicated the Clymer dairy farm; no notation whether they were affiliated with the Rosey Church but it seemed likely. In any case, the campground cafe served Clymer Dairy ice cream and it was the best creamiest, most delicious ice cream I have every tasted. When I brought Francis, who rarely finishes a portion, a scoop: he sent me back to get him another serving! If you see Clymer Dairy ice cream, try it.

Tohickton Campground was 20 minutes from Allentown. While one thinks of Allentown as gritty industrial; there are more rural areas of the City. One such is the location of the Museum of Indian Culture, on bucolic Fish Hatchery Road. Across nearby a riding stables and a fishing supply shop, you would think you were back in Bucks County. The Roasting Ears of Corn Festival brought together a wide array of tribes. 

The Lenni Lenape also called the Delaware were the indigenous people of Eastern Pennsylvania. The tribe settled from the Chesapeake to the Great Lakes. Local legend had it that Walker Lake had been owned by a Lenape tribal chief. He had operated as a rum runner during prohibition, trading ownership of the land to avoid prosecution for his illegal bootlegging. The chanting, dancing and regalia at a Pow Wow is always fascinating. This one would provide the opportunity to discover our local history, as well.

The Lenni Lenape were peaceful farmers, without dramatic performance art or regalia. Never the less, the recreation of a Lenape home and hearth and the explanations of their farming cooking and lifestyle were fascinating to me. Francis was more intent or capturing the varied rhythms of the chants and processions. There were fire dancers from South America, Women's dance groups from the far West, children's dances in which the elders threw candy on the ground for the “little chicks to peck at”. All day long the drums and flutes played and the dancers went round and around. The tempo was hypnotic and I found myself irresistibly swaying to it as I wandered around. In booths off to the sides of the central dance space were the vendors. These were fine craft not made-in-china replicas, all impressive hand work. 

The vendor which most attracted my attention was a musician who blended the traditional with modern. Arvel Bird had written a symphony retelling the story of Paiute / Irish youth coming to terms with his mixed heritage through music. The artist explained to me that the 18th century story was also his own personal tale as a native american / anglo musician. Whether playing an Indian flute or a European violin, the rhythms of that drumming still rang clearly through throughout the composition. The event was not all educational, high art and splendid regalia, there was also food. A variety of Native American inspired recipes were available. We tried the venison chili/stew and squash and corn chowder with the ubiquitous fry bread, all very tasty!

Staff from the nearby Da Vinci Science Center were at the Pow Wow, promoting Science Education and distributing information about the Solar Eclipse the following day. The Da Vinci Science Center is next to Cedar Creek Park, alongside Cedar Crest College. The Creek runs between the the Science Center and the College with a long linear green park continuing along both sides. It is an unexpected scene compared to the gray main drag of Allentown.

The Science Center housed a number of interesting exhibits about our minds and bodies and the world around us. The exhibits were scaled to a young audience but were never the less of interest to adults. Most of the exhibits had a hands-on interactive aspect. The area on brain function had puzzles. A series on energy sources had a number of interactive displays with different types of solar and water power generation.

Today the Center was crowded with eclipse watchers. Eclipse day had attracted both families with children, students from the College and older duffers like ourselves. Viewing glasses were available and people were passing them around sharing the limited supply. Others had brought cereal boxes to make pin hole cameras. It was a festive atmosphere; the science carnival was underway. We toured the exhibits inside, then borrowed a pair of glasses at the peak of the eclipse. In Allentown, the sun was almost 75% occluded but the day seemed as bright as any other. The power of the sun is so immense that even 25% is blinding. The experience outside put the solar energy exhibits inside the center into perspective.

Exploring Central Pennsylvania on a Woodworkers Pilgrimage

A childhood trip to the Smithsonian Institute Hall of American Artists introduced me to wood worker, George Nakashima. I was awed by the simplicity of his tables, with their union of form, function and reverence to the former tree. Later studying Plato with his references to pure forms; George Nakashima's tables seemed to me to embody purity of form, the eidos of table. [That was not what Plato had in mind, I know.]

Decades later I met Francis, a woodworker of some craft himself. My response to every “what do you want?” holiday gift inquiry, would be “a Nakashima table”. Reading “The Soul of a Tree”, Nakashima's artistic bio, we discovered that his workshop and studio were nearby in New Hope, Pennsylvania and open to the public on a limited basis.

Bucks County is a refined relic of the colonial era, and New Hope a preserved and very upscale little town. Nearby Allentown and Bethlehem are grittier places, ruins of the industrial era. Never the less, both have interesting and unexpected attractions. Allentown houses a Museum of Indian Culture, site of an annual harvest festival. The Roasting Ears of Corn Festival is inter-tribal, bringing people from not only North America but from Caribbean, Central and South American tribes. The 2017 solar eclipse was going to occur concurrent with the annual festival and the Allentown Da Vinci Science Museum was conducting a program to observe and learn about the eclipse.

In addition, there are other destinations in Central PA worthy of investigation. Francis had worked on the communication system at the Steelstacks complex in Bethlehem. The massive site of the former iron refinery had been turned into a performing arts center. We planned at some point to hear a concert there and check out the dramatically rusted ruins. 

Nazereth, Pennsylvania, was home to the Martin Guitar factory. The Martin family had been making quality instruments in Nazereth since the 1830s. Now under the guidance of Chris Martin the 4^th, their quality and reputation was never higher. One could register for a comprehensive tour of the factory and visit to the family museum. Since Francis revered his Martin Guitar as much he admired George Nakashima, a factory tour was in order.

The Nakashima Workshop was open only on one Saturday a month. On the following September Sunday, there was going to be an outsider arts festival in Allentown. It was to be held in at Cedar Beach Park alongside a creek nearby Da Vinci Science and across from the University. One weekend at Bethlehem and Nazereth, another in Allentown then onto New Hope and Allentown. With our new RV, a few short trips to central PA would be good break-in tests. Finding a centrally located Campground in bucolic Bucks County made it a perfect arrangement. Driving around Bucks County near the Campground was scenic enough but also we came across something completely unexpected.

Our first sojourn was to Steelstacks to hear Robert Cray. We walked along the Hoover Mason Trestle to the performance venue, taking the self guided tour. The raised walkway alongside the huge rusted equipment permits a good look into the actual works and signage explains how the various smelters and mills once functioned. Three comprehensive guided tours are regularly provided: The Rise and Fall of Bethlehem Steel; A Steelworker's Archives and The Hoover Mason Trestle.

Across from the Trestle is the new performing arts center. The concert was in the second floor restaurant with a wall of windows facing towards the Trestle. We were seated about three small tables from the performers, who were on a small stage in front of the window wall. Our intimate setting permitted us to see every interaction and nuance between the players. Whomever had designed the space knew their acoustics, the sound was amazing. The combination of the ceiling, broad expanse and window wall reflected all the tones towards the audience without any distortion. The music was fantastic, the band was hot and the backdrop of the graphically illuminated ruins in the background only enhanced the mood.

The day after the concert, we drove to Nazereth, PA to the Martin Guitar Factory. Francis is passionate about guitar music in general and had become even more so about the Martin dreadnought, in particular. The distinctive sound of a Martin is apparent even to my tin ear. When we were in Hawaii, the Martin Dreadnought was the instrument of choice for the traditional slack-key players. Their performances were lyrical with a unique tone; we were inspired to learn more about the instrument. At the Martin factory, they have a short general tour, a longer in-depth tour, a small family history museum, a “try it on” guitar room and the predictable gift shop. We had reservations for the in-depth factory tour. While we waited for the tour to begin, we became more familiar with the four-generation Martin musical history. The family history and factory tour were fascinating even for a non-player, like myself.

In 1830, the first Chris Martin had emigrated to New York City becoming an apprentice in an instrument factory. Within a decade he had relocated his family to Nazereth, PA opening his own workshop. Each generation of Martins had improved and enhanced the product and the production until Chris #3 rather overextended the product line. Chris #4, stepped in. He dropped all the ancillary instruments, opting to concentrate on the one item for which Martin was renowned, the acoustic guitar. To this end he had a new state of the art factory built a few blocks away from the site of the original one-room Martin workshop. The skilled artisans and technicians who made the guitars helped to design the new factory facility. This was the factory which we would observe.

After the obligatory warning not to touch any of the machinery, we proceeded into the factory. Passing a giant display showed the interior and exterior parts of a guitar, we were first introduced to the amazing computerized robotics used to for the bulk shaping of the guitar necks and the outline cutting of the body parts. Technicians programmed the cutting heads and routers, watching the process from safety behind glass enclosures. The hazardous processes rough material removal, done by machine. The contour shaping and delicate assemble of the parts completed by hand. Similarly the volatile varnish coats were completed in an enclosed hands-off spray room while the detailed inlay and final polishing was all done by skilled hands. The Martin Guitar's repute has never been higher. While some Martin guitars are now assembled in a plant in Mexico, the materials and final product all began and ended for quality control in the Nazereth plant.

While the tour guide was explicit that we were not to touch anything, we were welcome to chat with the staff. The staff were anxious to chat with us! Everyone from the fellow running the computerized cutters to the man and woman carefully hand crafting mother of pearl inlays were apparently delighted to explain their particular contribution to the process.

In particular, the fellow who ran the custom shop wanted us to know everything about making these fine instruments and the special woods he had in stock. He was a man in love with lumber. His desk was at the end of a 16 or 20 foot long storage corridor. Locked wire mesh cages lined the passageway. On one side were closed guitar cases, some of which were clearly not Martin guitars, on the other side was stacks of wood. Stacks and stacks of matching flitches. The area was redolent with the smell of aged wood. These were the Martin family collection, both instruments and lumber. Not only were there historic Martin Family heirlooms in the stacks but newer instruments from their competitors. Whenever a another guitar maker came out with a new model, a sample would be purchased for review. There were hundreds of guitars; what we all would not have given for a peak inside those cases with a docent to explain the differences! The matching stacks of hard wood were also accumulated over decades. Rare hard woods purchased by generations of Martins, most of which can no longer be imported into the US. The custom maker explained that just the Rosewood alone was now worth millions.

We discovered an interesting synchronicity in the custom shop: just as Martin had built their own sawmill to custom cut exotic hardwoods, a ban on the importation of Rosewood and endangered rare species went into effect. They had a unique custom sawmill and no wood to mill. Their woodworker neighbor, George Nakashima, heard about the unused equipment. It would be perfect for his custom milling of live edge slabs from his specially selected trees. The two families of woodcrafters began a unique cooperative partnership. I George Nakashima's signature Conoid benches provide respite for visitors to the Martin Family museum. Martin designed and produced a custom shop Nakashima guitar. Nakashima guitar #1 was given to Mira Nakashima, George's Daughter. Mira now carries on her Father's furniture making traditions in New Hope just as Chris Martin 4 carries on his families luthier traditions in Nazereth. And, as we would find out when we went to New Hope, Mira still plays her Martin guitar.