Haystack   Every evening of my first week teaching paper at Haystack I returned to my spartan cabin, thinking as I entered, "I must check the phone messages." There is no phone. Haystack is on an island in Maine a half-hour drive from any town. This is at least the first reason to go there.   One cannot measure the gift of time. Footprints on rocks disappear and in the forest footsteps are silent. Haystack, founded in 1951, sits in a spruce forest which springs to life in and around huge rocks with almost no nourishing soil. All this is set against the edge of the sea. The glass and gray shingle architecture is a contemporary interpretation of the Maine style. Everyone walks up and down the broad steps and connecting walkways of the six studios, dining hall, Gateway auditorium, and the residential cabins and dorms.   The studios at Haystack are spacious and very well equipped. The paper and book arts studio is used for graphics and printmaking workshops during other sessions. Papermaking has a two-pound Twinrocker beater (slightly modified), a Clark hydraulic press, a McDonald drying system, good felts, vats, and many moulds and deckles. You have the feeling that whatever you need will somehow appear.    Haystack invites a variety of paper and book arts instructors each season. I wanted to know exactly when this started, so I spoke with Bunzy Sherman. She has taken classes for over twenty years. Her warm smile rests between ever changing earrings of birds, books, and butterflies. We were basking on a day someone called a "twelve on a scale of one to ten." On the wide wooden deck, at tree-top level 250 feet above the water, we looked out to a cluster of granite and spruce islands across water reflecting cobalt sky. Lobster buoys in primary colors marked a path to the horizon. The dinner bell would sound momentarily but Bunzy had the story of the first papermaking at Haystack to tell.   In 1980, Bunzy's husband, Irving, had been to Penland to learn bookbinding. He later talked to Howard Evans, then Haystack's director, about the experience. Irving bought a beater and paper press from Howard Clark and gave them to Haystack so that a papermaking program could be started. The first year the school brought in M. C. Richards, John Woods, Wesley Tanner, Peggy Prentice, and Kathy Clark to teach. The beater arrived mid-session and has been going ever since. The teaching staff has included, among others: Helen Frederick, Bernie Vinzani, John Babcock, and Margaret Sahlstrand. Irving went on to construct his own studio, at which Amanda Degener and Barb Schubring worked in 1991 to create their shaped, handmade paper book, Land(scaped).   This past summer I had ten students in my class, ranging in age from twenty-three to seventy-eight. They came from many states and two foreign countries. Not by accident, only one had been to Haystack before. Stuart Kestenbaum, the school's current director, told me that students are selected around April 15 (noted in some minds for a different deadline). Geographical distribution, varied backgrounds, and a clear desire to be at Haystack are the selection factors given priority. (I want to be sure to make the cut as a student in future years, so I am considering moving to Alaska and becoming a left-handed ballerina.) Stuart says the school is "putting together a dynamic." They want a community, for people to learn to deal with each other and to grow and support one another.    Stuart finds the way people work between the studios very interesting. They pass by and experience "periphery learning," special moments they hold with them and carry away.    Japanese artist Kyoko Ibe had just been in residence at Haystack when I arrived. Her large installation paper pieces gave the spirit of a shrine to this pristine landscape. Such international faculty (and students) are very important to the mix.    Teachers given complete freedom lead the varied student population. As Stuart puts it, they are "teaching what moves them to teach." They are assigned assistants who facilitate the studio operations. A variety of work-study kitchen and general maintenance jobs are also available each session. These positions were filled by a dynamic array of workers of all ages and nationalities during my stay.   My day at Haystack began with the sounds of lobster boats going out from a small family pier at the bend in the cove. It was cold in the night and I did not want to leave the electric blanket behind. By six the sun sparkled on the rocks and I could take a walk. I climbed along the flat surfaces, jumping over small crevices and arriving at a secluded beach to pick up pieces of sea urchin shell.    The bell rang at eight for breakfast and we eagerly gathered for blueberry pancakes with homemade syrup from Nervous Nellie's Jams and Jellies. This establishment and Eaton's pier, for extra lobster dinners (you get one as part of your stay), are island treats. The serving pieces at Haystack are all from the ceramic studio and the metals studio created the silverware. From the dining room, wood-paneled and with a large fireplace, floor-to-ceiling windows look out on the ocean, islands, and spruce tree tops.   Stuart hit the gong and gave announcements. He listed the hours for the store, in a new home in the Gateway building and now selling ice cream (right up there with binding cord and pigments among my own needs).    Classes began at nine and seemed just to have started when the lunch bell sounded. More amazing food, followed by vows to walk, run up the stairs, or skip the next day's fare. The afternoon session officially lasted until half past three, but no one seemed to stop until five o'clock. A few took a woodland walk or a swim at the cove. Dinner was at six, sometimes followed by an eight o'clock program. Since the studios stayed open all night, these programs provided a good break, occasionally a chance to hear Stuart read a poem, perhaps his own. This reminded me of what we miss when we focus so hard on our own disciplines. On another night, music gave me the same thought. These evenings were a chance to get to know one another. My three weeks culminated in studio tours and a wonderful auction conducted by Stuart (he wore a tie which told us he was after money). He sets the tone.   Haystack is a school of crafts shaped by a director serious and gentle, intense and light. Haystack is a beautiful balancing act of the craft of nature, the spirit, and the hand.   Marilyn Sward     Arrowmont   Travel is a great way to refresh the soul and stimulate new ideas, and what better destination than an art center with a paper studio. My summer travels took me to eastern Tennessee, to one of the most established summer workshop programs in the country. Arrowmont School of Arts and Crafts was founded in 1912 as the Pi Beta Phi Settlement School, to offer formal schooling to local children. In 1914 the national fraternity purchased the land where Arrowmont is now situated and in time added a high school. Because of the rich craft tradition of the region, the Pi Beta Phi Fraternity soon hired a weaving teacher for the high school faculty and began a program of weaving instruction for local women in their homes. As the needs of the community changed, the school's mission and name changed with it.   In 1945 the fraternity established the Summer Workshop of Handicrafts and Community Recreation. It organized these classes in collaboration with the University of Tennessee for college credit; credit can be obtained for the summer workshops to this day. Although the school still runs a community art program and a children's art program, Arrowmont no longer bears responsibility for the general primary education of the area's children; it is now solely a school of arts and crafts.   When Sandra Blaine, the director of Arrowmont, contacted me in 1996 to teach a class in June 1997, I quickly accepted. Having heard so much about Arrowmont, I wanted to experience it for myself. Papermaking was added to the program in the mid-1980s. It grew out of a demand from students attending the program in other areas. The faculty has included many wonderful artists and papermakers, such as Dolph Smith, Ted Ramsay, Donna Koretsky, Elaine Koretsky, Lillian Bell, Tim Barrett, Lynn Sures, and John Risseeuw. Arrowmont's current papermaking facility grew out of ideas offered by these and other papermakers from around the country.   I flew into Knoxville and then drove eighty miles to Gatlinburg. Before my class began, I had a few free days to visit the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Going into the park was like traveling back in time a hundred years. Restored cabins and a working mill lie nestled in a quiet valley, and the forest and nearby mountains create a peaceful atmosphere. The mountains to the east and surrounding the school appear, disappear, and reappear again as the rain moves through the valleys. This part of Tennessee is a high elevation rain forest, with precipitation averaging about sixty inches per year. The moisture in the forest evaporates, creating the "smoke" that gives the mountains their name.   But the region presents a study in contrasts. The town of Gatlinburg, on the north side of the park, is dedicated almost completely to tourism. Traffic is bumper to bumper. Motels and country music theaters, miniature golf courses, and gift shops abound. Families fill the sidewalks, going from one entertainment site to the next, accompanied by music piped from speakers attached to the streetlights.   Although Arrowmont is in Gatlinburg, it could not be more different from the rest of the town. From the hustle and busy traffic of the tourist area, a quick turn leads to this beautiful artists' community and an immediate transformation. I saw very quickly that one week at Arrowmont would not be enough. Everywhere weavings, pottery, and wooden objects made by artists at the school enhance the atmosphere. The most recent acquisitions were made in 1995 during the school's fiftieth anniversary celebration of its summer arts program. Many of the wooden architectural details seen throughout the facility were also designed and made by local artists.    The facilities include a dining hall, a book and supply store, a library, an exhibition space, and a range of housing choices, from multi-bed rooms with a shared bath to single rooms with a private bath. The studios are located in three main buildings near the entrance to the complex, with housing up the hill. Everything is within easy walking distance.   The papermaking studio shares a building with the painting, drawing, and ceramic studios. One of the best things about programs like Arrowmont's is the diversity of activity. The proximity of the other studios makes it easy to drop in and see what is going on. During the week of my workshop, the school also offered classes in doll making, furniture design, wood turning, toy making, hand-building in ceramics, landscape painting, and photography, as well as one in creating complex patterns in cloth.   The school has designed the paper studio, like the painting and drawing studios, as a flexible workspace with indoor and outdoor work areas. Inside, a work counter with two sinks runs along one wall. A large concrete sink is built into the floor. The studio includes a locker room for students, storage space for molds, deckles and felts, six-foot work tables and smaller, individual work tables on wheels, which can be used anywhere to support vats or to couch on. These moveable work areas make loading and unloading the press very easy and provide flexibility in an unfamiliar space. The interior studio also has a drying area with a large restraint dryer, one of the newer pieces of equipment in the studio.          The outside space includes a covered work area and a driveway. The school's paper press and Voith Valley beater are located here, under the covered area. Most of the wet activity occurs outside, leaving the inside studio space for dry work.    Overall, the equipment is adequate for basic papermaking. One change that would increase the capability of the studio would be the addition of one or two larger and deeper vats. The beater operated very well, but for my class, the first in papermaking of the summer, it required some work. Arrowmont staff came quickly and replaced a leaky gasket. With a little rearranging of the agenda, we quickly forgot the problem. I later discussed maintenance and winter storage for the beater along with other studio ideas with the school's assistant director, Bill Griffith.    In a workshop studio such as this one, having the basic equipment, the space, water, and light are the most important requirements and Arrowmont has these. Beyond this, each instructor must inform the institution and the students what is needed. Sometimes the best things happen when you do not have everything right at your fingertips; you often discover a new way of working. Learning to adapt and to adjust, after all, are important parts of making art.   Teaching at Arrowmont was a wonderful experience. The students, of all ages, come from many places and backgrounds. Everyone is very involved in their personal work and studio area, but the environment draws them into the entire program: they attend evening slide lectures, visit other studios, and mix during meal times. The staff is very open and listened carefully to my ideas and recommendations for the papermaking program. I know from my own experience that the more papermakers show an interest in this facility, the better it will become.   At the end of the week I was sorry to be leaving but I was anxious to get back to my studio to work on some of the new ideas that had begun to gestate in this fertile environment.   Beck Whitehead     Penland    After twisting around an exceptionally winding road, one sees a breathtaking vista from the final bend towards the main buildings of Penland School of Crafts, along the generous curve of Penland Road: open sky, rolling meadows, grazing llamas, and mist hovering in the mountains. You might never want to climb back down the mountain; and few do during their time up at the school.    "Miss Lucy" Morgan founded Penland in 1929 as a place to teach weaving to women in the community and to foster self-reliance through development of craft cottage industries. The school quickly added other subjects, including pottery and metalcrafts, and changed its focus in the 1960s from teaching traditional handicrafts to advancing creative expression in craft media.    Today, Penland encompasses four hundred acres and forty-one structures, offering programs and facilities for book arts and paper, clay, drawing, fiber, glass, iron, metals, photography, print arts, surface design, weaving, and wood. Over one hundred instructors offer classes each year at Penland, mostly in the summer during two week and two-and-a-half week sessions. Recent and frequent instructors in book arts and paper include Helen Frederick, Nance O'Banion, Barbara Mauriello, Keith Smith, Peter Kruty, and Steve Miller.    The book arts and paper studios are located in Northlight, a relatively new building at Penland. The bookmaking studio occupies one thousand square feet and is equipped for basic bookbinding. The seven-hundred-square-foot garden papermaking studio, partially covered, is outfitted with a 1�  lb. Reina Hollander beater, a 20-ton hydraulic press, a drying chamber, and a number of moulds in fairly good condition, considering they are stored outdoors during the summer. In this wonderful outdoor setting birds chirp for the early morning papermakers and fireflies and cicadas accompany the late night sessions. On especially hot afternoons, students from the other studios visit for a refreshing spray-down with the garden hose.    Characteristic for Penland, the papermaking program sprang from poetry and love of the land. Paulus Berensohn, a ceramicist, marvelled at Beverly Plummer's vegetable fiber papers at a poetry reading in her studio, and encouraged her to teach paper at Penland. In the mid-1980s Beverly taught the school's first papermaking class, out of the kitchen next to the Horner Building's printmaking studio. She fondly remembers making paper on top of the printing presses with just enough room for three people to couch at a time, with their arms very close to their sides.    Within a year or so, the paper studio expanded to the parking lot behind Horner and then moved to the building's front porch in 1988. Dolph Smith, like Plummer a long-time instructor at Penland, gave this spot its endearing name, "Horner Falls," after the many times water would go cascading down the porch steps. By 1989, the school had a vacuum table, a press, and a beater grinding away right there on the front porch. Peter Sowiski, who started teaching at Penland in 1987, recalls lunar moth invasions and poison ivy climbing up the felt drying lines. Despite its limitations, Horner is remembered affectionately as a truly charming first home for the book and paper program at Penland.   The move to Northlight took place in 1992 through the efforts of Julie Leonard, Dan Essig, and Harold Jones, with Dolph, Beverly, and Peter assisting in the design of the facility. "With the more professional studio," says Julie, who was Studio Coordinator at the time, "we were able to plan a more cohesive book and paper program and invite instructors to teach a wider range of classes than was possible at Horner."    In 1994, Eileen Wallace became the Studio Coordinator for Book and Paper and worked with former Penland Director Ken Botnick to strengthen the book and paper program. They reconditioned an idle Heidelberg press, brought in more printing, bookbinding, and papermaking equipment, and broadened the range and level of class offerings. "Demand for book and paper classes is increasing every year," reports Eileen. "We have craftspeople and artists from all disciplines plus experienced papermakers and bookmakers anxious to take book and paper classes at Penland." Demonstrating its commitment to the paper and book program, Penland hosted, in 1995 and again in 1996, the Paper and Book Intensive (known as PBI), an annual gathering of book and paper professionals who exchange ideas and work together in the studios.   Penland alternates its summer book and paper sessions to make full use of the studio, and often an instructor will address both media during a session. "We are planning a few interactive sessions for next summer," says Eileen. "We hope to have Marilyn Sward teaching paper, Bea Nettles teaching photography, and Audrey Niffenegger instructing in the printmaking studio, all during the same session." This kind of collaboration happens naturally and is encouraged at Penland, whether intentionally set up or not.    The paper and book studio's location just below the school auditorium brings students and instructors from other studios into frequent contact with books and paper. Students and instructors eagerly share knowledge, tools, materials, and techniques between themselves and between studios. Collaborations are frequent. Early on in a session one might see ceramic book enclosures, carved wooden book covers, handmade paper shades over forged iron lampstands, or etchings and cyanotypes on freshly-made paper.    In addition to allowing opportunities for intense interaction with others, Penland is a profound location to grow in touch with oneself. In Penland's isolated setting, up in the Blue Ridge Mountains, there is a wonderful sense of place which awakens the senses, inspires the imagination, animates creativity, and nourishes the soul.    Along with the phenomenal landscape and intensive studio facilities, the school provides daily movement classes, open to everyone. A unique offering at Penland, yoga, Alexander Technique, and other movement classes are made available with the belief that ease of movement aids the creative process.    "Magic happens on this mountain" says Billie Abraham, a student in a recent session when the group spotted North Carolina kozo, harvested it (somewhat illicitly), and made it into beautiful sheets of paper. Penland is indeed a special place where magic does happen.    Mina Takahashi

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