North House Folk School

This past week I made the two thousand mile drive from Grand Marais to my home in Corvallis, Oregon. Between audiobooks and podcasts I had a lot of time to think. I expected my brain to unpack all of the excitement, creativity, and exhaustion that was this past year. But instead, I found myself continually thinking about place.

As the landscape gave way from forest, to farmland, to prairie I was continually awed by the beauty of the world. And beneath that, I had one recurring thought, “this is somebody’s home.” My journey cross country brought me from one home to another. Sometimes it feels exhausting to have parts of me in so many different places, but I am forever grateful for all the wonderful people I meet in each new home I build. I have moved nine times in the past nine years. Each different place has given me something new to carry with me. 

During my drive, the connection between place and folk art crystallized when I stopped to visit The World’s Only Corn Palace in Mitchell, SD. Kitschy to the extreme or folk art masterpiece? I will let you decide. But I was struck by the love for place expressed in local materials. The corn mural theme this year was Famous South Dakotans. 275,000 ears of corn wrapped around the outside of the building to share the story of those who lived in South Dakota. In that moment it clicked for me that folk art is truly a declaration of love for home, however far away it may be. 

I think of all the people I have met at North House and the strong connection that they feel to the North Shore. Especially when it comes to materials. Basket weaving materials and logs harvested from close by, dye plants picked when the timing is just right. You must know a place well to be in collaboration with the landscape for the collection of materials. 

With my change of environment, I anticipate that my relationship with my craft work will also undergo a transformation. Leading up to my departure, people asked me what I will do when I return to “real life.” While I understood what they were getting at, a small part of my brain wanted to point out that referring to Corvallis as my “real life” discredited my time in Grand Marais. At times my year at North House did feel like an escape. But I also felt reality pull at me when I was constantly busy with my work to the point where I had to remind myself to take breaks. 

I have learned through all my moves that one life is not more rooted than another. They all happen simultaneously, with or without your physical presence. I look forward to the future years when my life in Grand Marais will continue to flourish despite my absence. Until next time North House, see you soon!