The White House Rural Council

Yesterday, by Executive Order, President Barack Obama announced the formation of the White House Rural Council, a cabinet-level group charged with assessing both the challenges and the unique assets inherent in Rural America. This is a historic announcement, the first such high-level council with an explicit focus on rural development. Here's an excerpt from the press release:

“Strong rural communities are key to a stronger America,” said President Barack Obama. “That’s why I’ve established the White House Rural Council  to make sure we’re working across government to strengthen rural communities and promote economic growth.” 

The White House Rural Council will coordinate programs across government  to encourage public-private partnerships to promote further economic  prosperity and quality of life in rural communities nationwide. Chaired by  Secretary of Agriculture Tom Vilsack, the Council will be responsible for providing recommendations for investment in rural areas and will coordinate Federal engagement with a variety of rural stakeholders, including agricultural organizations, small businesses, and state, local, and tribal governments.

“Rural America makes significant contributions to the security, prosperity, and economic strength of our country,” said Agriculture Secretary Tom Vilsack. “The Rural Council announced by President Obama shows his continued focus on promoting economic opportunity, creating jobs, and enhancing the quality of life for those who live in rural America. Together with the rest of the Obama administration, USDA has worked to support families and businesses in rural communities so that their success will pay dividends for all Americans.”

Next week we'll offer more of our perspective on this news, but until then, the full detailed press release can be viewed here. While, of course, there are political benefits to such a council's formation, this news is promising--and we will be following the arts and culture dynamic to this Council as the story develops. We're curious how a representative from the National Endowment for the Arts might contribute to this discussion. 

Last year, on the eve of the midterm elections, I contributed this reflection on Candidate Barack Obama's unannounced campaign stop in my hometown of Smithfield, Ohio--days before the 2008 vote. This week, his White House Rural Council is charged with addressing the needs, and the very real frustrations, of these same folks he met for a few brief moments: 

Two Years Later in One Rural  Town

A little over two years ago, Senator Barack Obama campaigned through the Ohio Valley on the eve of the presidential election.  En route from one rally to another, his tour bus passed through my hometown of Smithfield, Ohio. In an unplanned move, the candidate stopped for a brief moment to greet folks who had gathered to cheer along the motorcade. I'm grateful that someone with a digital camera captured this moment for posterity; as the candidate emerges from the long-awaited bus, he seems almost to be returning from a moment of goodwill that we have since misplaced.

When Obama pulled out of Smithfield, Ohio, what he left was a town still resilient in the face of many of the same issues that haunt all of rural America. The main street our future President stood upon was shadow of its former glory--abandoned businesses, dilapidated houses, the high school long gone--but also a metaphor for a state-of-the-nation we sought to amend. As the motorcade snaked its way along the ridge leading out of town, it passed farms owned and preserved with great difficulty by generations of families; among the cattle and crops, as with my family's farm, sat the giant strip pits--old enough to be unreclaimed--standing for another metaphor we invested in a candidate's care.

I wonder how the folks in the video would react if the President's bus stopped again, unannounced, in Smithfield. What would they discuss, what tone would this discussion take?  I ponder this as the video plays again, as the images begin to move like ghosts across the computer screen--a moment lost, a memory consigned to the past.

Aside from our own party preferences, there's no denying that a sense of decorum has vacated our political discourse; while this is no doubt a reflection of our national recession--already mature in November 2008--it is also a comment on our willingness to think, with generosity and civility, beyond ourselves and beyond our own perspectives. Now, more than ever, we need artists to challenge our neighbors' (and our own) frustrated myopia.

Bringing The Yarn Bomb To The Country

By Rachel Reynolds Luster, Contributing Editor

International Yarn Bombing Day will occur for the first time this Saturday, June 11th. The event was the brainchild of Joann Matvichuk, a “domestic goddess” who lives and works in Lethbridge, Alberta. Her motivation is to encourage knitters and crocheters to perform crafted graffiti on the same day, around the world as a collective group.

For those not familiar with the concept of yarn bombing, it’s a form of graffiti and cultural activism that involves repurposing aspects of the urban landscape by covering them with knitted and crocheted adornments. The movement was started in 2005 by Texas artist Magda Sayeg. At the time, Sayeg was the owner of a yarn shop in Houston and was overcome with “a selfish desire to add color to my world.” In reaction to the urban landscape and the lack of warmth she found there, she knitted a cozy to cover the metal door handle of her shop. She then knitted a sheath for the stop sign across the street. Passersby stopped and noticed. They took pictures. She was encouraged by the reaction and began covering items across the city. She and a group of fellow knitters have since yarn bombed items across the world including parking meters in Brooklyn, a bus in Mexico, and a twenty-six foot statue of a soldier in Bali, neutering its violence, according to a 2010 article in The Guardian. In that same article, Sayeg says, “In this world of technology, over-development, fewer trees and more concrete, it is empowering to be able to beautify your environment." This is a powerful statement in action. Sayeg, now in Austin, has spawned an international movement with yarn bombing groups popping up not only across America but also in Japan, Britain, Scandinavia, South Africa, and Australia.



Generally done in cover of darkness, some of the participants wear masks and relish the role of artistic vagrants. Like all unsanctioned street art, yarn bombing is illegal, and Sayeg’s original group of knitters in Houston crafted a terminology for their work based on the world of hip-hop, creating names for themselves such as Notorious N.I.T. and P-Knitty. The group as a whole was called Knitta Please or just Knitta. Further information on the history of the movement, Magda, and International Yarn Bombing can be found here.  

I’m not really good at knitting, but I love to do it. I’ve crocheted for as long as I remember. My great-grandmother taught me when I was 4 or 5 to do a chain and basic single stitch. I remember getting a crocheted potholder every Christmas from Nanny with a five dollar bill folded up inside. While they were truly horrible potholders (acrylic yarn easily melts), I still have an entire collection along with the many scarves and pillows she made for me over the years. I keep them because they are touchstones of my time with her and all that she shared with me. They represent personal remembrances, a set of skills, and bright objects that are both functional and decorative.

I am also enamored with the idea of knitting or crocheting to affect cultural change. Yarn bombing definitely falls into the category of “craftivism,” a concept developed by Betsy Greer, whose website is a resource for many in the DIY and feminist craft movements. I love that those participating in yarn bombing, at least on one level, are taking action to reclaim their urban landscape, one that they see as cold and distant, by beautifying and changing it with a craft seen mostly as domestic, predominately functional, and in many circles--I would imagine especially in an urban context--irrelevant to modern society. Participants are reclaiming public spaces as home. Still, I have been contemplating what form such a movement would take in rural America and what the motivations and implications might be.

 Photograph by DPA

First, I believe that many of the rural yarn bombing projects would stay around. Rather than temporary remnants of acts of activism, removed promptly by city employees tasked with keeping the city clean, I think rural examples would be adopted by many as decorative aspects of community life and remain part of objects such as mailboxes or garden swings where they were placed. I also believe that it might cause a resurgence in rural textile craft and appreciation of it. If we factor in, for example in my community, that there are many people, especially women, raising fiber animals and creating yarn that could be used, the implications become economic. These are just some of the possibilities that come to mind, but I would like to encourage any of you who knit or crochet to yarn bomb something, anything, in your rural communities on June 11. Of course, I believe we should locally adapt our methodology for such activities. If you’re going to yarn bomb something at someone’s home, you might ask first. I think, probably, public spaces are fair game. It doesn’t have to be large, could be something as simple as the first door handle that Magda did at her shop in Houston. Yarn bomb your local senior center, or better yet, get those folks involved!

In the spirit of engagement, I sent a note to Joann Matvichuk, organizer of International Yarn Bombing Day, asking if she had communicated with any groups or individuals planning on participating in the event from rural America. She was kind enough to pose the question on the IYBD facebook page and received dozens of responses of interest. Two responses in particular struck me as relevant as we think about what the implications might be for rural yarn bombing activities.

Corrine MacKrell: “I grew up rural. If I were going to yarn bomb at home, I would personalize it like a gift. A camo scarf on or around the garden gnome of a hunting family, flowers in her favorite color for the lady down the road, etc.”

Shane Raymond: In the country we have to be more discrete and organic with our tags. Since I know most of the people and their personalities I can tailor my tags better as well. Overall I would say it's much more personal. Example, a colorful spider webs in the trees in deep state land. The only people that will see them are middle-aged hunters.

I encourage you to join the conversation on the International Yarn Bombing Day’s Facebook page. If you do a project, I’d love for you to share it with us. I’m interested in your photographs and in learning how the projects are perceived in your community. I’ll share my story too.

The March On Blair Mountain

Photograph by Paul Corbit Brown

As many of our readers know, this week marks a historic evolution in the Appalachia Rising movement against Mountaintop Removal, as many citizens have begun The March on Blair Mountain. While we've been sharing information and links on our Facebook page, I wanted to make sure that folks who don't check that site can learn more about this march.

While many of us may not be able to join in the march as it reaches Blair Mountain on Saturday, June 11th, we can help from afar in many ways. The most imperative: these individuals need any donations we can spare to help with a logistical snare that could threaten to stop their progress towards Blair. Whether this is politically-motivated or just case of obscure county ordinances (or both), the march has met with a complication:

last night after setting up our campsite, Boone County Officials showed up and told us that we no longer had permission to camp in the park, and that if we didn’t leave we’d all be arrested.
 
We’re determined to carry on the march. We didn’t come here to stand up to the police in a county park, we are marching on Blair Mountain to stand up to the coal industry, preserve the mountain and its history, and end MTR coal mining.

We’re arranging alternative camping arrangements, and ensuring that we have walkie-talkies and safety equipment to keep everyone safe and secure. Bottom line, we need to raise $5000 to keep the March moving safely and securely.

As the organizers suggest, if their supporters can all spare $5 to this cause, then this problem can be quickly side-stepped.

There is much more information on this march and Blair Mountain's place in Appalachia's history at The March On Blair Mountain site. While this is grass-roots activism, it is also a project that has integrated music, writing, and oral history into its narrative--promising that this conversation will not fall silent the morning after the march concludes. 

Below we'll feature a short film on the importance of Blair Mountain, and a recap from the first day of the march, followed by the opening to the official press release. Folks can follow the progress at the above links, and also on Twitter at http://twitter.com/#!/marchonblairmt [@marchonblairmt] and http://twitter.com/#!/app_rising [@App_Rising]. 

While here at The Art of the Rural we work to recognize that our readers share a diverse range of political and philosophical views (and thus refrain from much editorializing), we feel that this issue is an exception. I know that I speak for my fellow editors and contributors when I say that Mountaintop Removal is an environmental and human rights issue, a spiritually-damaging practice that threatens the very culture of Appalachia. There simply is no coherent political or philosophical argument in defense of the strip mining of these mountains.

The Battle of Blair Mountain from jordan freeman on Vimeo.

Upwards of 500 marchers from across Appalachia and the United States will participate in a 50-mile march from Marmet, W.Va., to Blair, W.Va., calling for the preservation of Blair Mountain and the abolition of mountaintop removal mining, in an event dubbed Appalachia Rising: The March on Blair Mountain. Blair Mountain, located in Logan County, W.Va., is currently under threat of destruction by mountaintop removal. 

Marchers will follow the same route as the coal miners who marched to Blair Mountain in 1921 in an effort to unionize mines in southern West Virginia. The ensuing battle between 10,000 coal miners and the coal industry’s hired gunmen is remembered as the largest armed uprising in United States history since the Civil War, and a landmark event in the labor struggles of the early 20th century.

“Ninety years ago, Blair Mountain epitomized the struggle of working men everywhere who sought a better quality of life,” said Chuck Keeney, a history professor at Southern West Virginia Community and Technical College and the great-grandson of famed UMWA leader Frank Keeney. “Today, Blair Mountain’s meaning is very similar, for we march to honor the past and provide a vision for a better quality of life for both mountaineers and all Americans.”

Day 1 of the March on Blair Mountain from jordan freeman on Vimeo.

Related Articles:
Wendell Berry Joins Sit-In In Kentucky Governor's Office
Mountaintop Removal: Humor and Sincerity
Coal, The Media, And The University
Filming The Coal War
Appalshop And The Mine War On Blackberry Creek

Rural Poetry Series: James Still

"James Still at his cabin on Dead Mare Branch, on his 80th birthday, July 16, 1986;" Tom Eblen

Today in the Rural Poetry Series we turn to the work of James Still (1906-2001), a poet born in Alabama but at home in Knott County, Kentucky. From there,  Mr. Still composed a series of novels, short stories and poems that dramatically altered (and advocated for) Applachian literature. His fiction masterpiece, River of Earth (1940), dramatizes the pull between rootedness and mobility--lessons learned first-hand. Mr. Still joined the struggle for miners' rights in the 1930's while also completing graduate degrees at Vanderbilt and the University of Illinois; he worked in the Civil Service, in the cotton fields, and even as a bible salesman. His range of experiences were capped as a Sergeant in World War II, stationed in Egypt. 

From these wanderings, Mr. Still's most fortuitous connection came with his friendship to Don West, an activist, educator, founder of the Appalachian South Folklife Center--and an excellent poet himself. Mr. West suggested Knott County, which led to James Still's work in the library and local schools, and his eventual connections with The Hindman Settlement School and its Appalachian Writers Workshop.

Many years ago as a young poet, I had the chance to attend the Workshop at Hindman. Though perhaps not explicitly referred to as such, it was clear we all were in "James Still Country." His whereabouts were the subject of anxious and excited updates, and the reverence in the packed auditorium for his reading was palpable and deeply moving, a foundational example for me of how the arts can transform local culture. 

While a follow-up article will elaborate upon the Hindman Settlement School and the Appalachian Writers Workshop, I'd like to share a poem of Mr. Still's that is inseparably linked to his home place. 

Heritage

I shall not leave these prisoning hills

Though they topple their barren heads to level earth

And the forests slide uprooted out of the sky.

Though the waters of Troublesome, of Trace Fork,

Of Sand Lick rise in a single body to glean the valleys,

To drown lush pennyroyal, to unravel rail fences;

Though the sun-ball breaks the ridges into dust

And burns its strength into the blistered rock

I cannot leave. I cannot go away.

Being of these hills, being one with the fox

Stealing into the shadows, one with the new-born foal,

The lumbering ox drawing green beech logs to mill,

One with the destined feet of man climbing and descending,

And one with death rising to bloom again, I cannot go.

Being of these hills I cannot pass beyond.

While this poem can be found in From the Mountain to the Valley: New and Selected Poems, the United States of Poetry series also offers this video of "Heritage" shot among the grounds surrounding his cabin:

This season has been an exciting one for Mr. Still's many readers. To commemorate the ten-year anniversary of his passing, The Hindman Settlement School recently hosted A Celebration of James Still featuring talks, readings, musical performances and the exciting release of Mr. Still's final novel: Chinaberry. The novel is edited by one of Appalachia's finest contemporary writers, Silas House, and is now available from The University of Kentucky Press. 

Here's an excerpt from Tom Eblen's excellent article in The Lexington Herald-Leader on the book's release:

Unlike his other writing, Chinaberry is not set in the Eastern Kentucky mountains. It takes place in the wide-open cotton and cattle land of rural Texas nearly a century ago, and in Still's native Alabama.

Chinaberry is about the epic journey of an unnamed boy of 13, who often seems much younger. He leaves Alabama with family friends for a summer of picking cotton in Texas. During the next three months, his life is transformed.

"I think it's a love story on so many levels," House said. "It's a love story between the author and childhood, between a person and a place. I think there's a palpable love for Texas in the book, and for a way of life that's gone forever."

At the heart of the story is the relationship that develops between the boy and the Chinaberry ranch's owner, Anson Winters, and his second wife, Lurie. Anson virtually adopts the boy, treating him as a replacement for the young, handicapped son whose death he still grieves.

"What's so brilliant about the book is that (Still) doesn't make any judgments; it's a psychological thriller in a way," said House.

The celebration at Hindman was also punctuated by the re-release of Heritage, a collaboration between James Still and dulcimer/banjo player Randy Wilson. Appalshop and June Appal Recordings have made this material available for the first time on CD, with more information available here.

Folks should also peruse the Fall 2010 James Still special issue of Appalachian Heritage, a journal closely associated with Mr. Still and also with current and emerging voices in Appalachian literature. 

Re-Wilding From The City To The Country

photograph by Lucas Foglia

We'll start off the week with a very provocative collaboration between photographer Lucas Foglia, poet Forrest Gander, and musician Brady Earnhart: Re-Wilding. This project began with Mr. Foglia's four-year study of off-the-grid communities--largely folks who left the cities. If some of our recent pieces have been attempting to trouble the static rural-urban binary, then the work of Mr. Foglia--and his fellow artists' response--adds another complication. Here's the photographer introducing the project:

From 2006 through 2010, I traveled throughout the southeastern United States befriending, photographing, and interviewing a network of people who left cities and suburbs to live off the grid. Motivated by environmental concerns, religious beliefs, or predictions of economic collapse, my subjects build their homes from local materials, obtain their water from nearby springs, and hunt, gather, or grow their own food.

All the people in my photographs are working to maintain a self-sufficient lifestyle, but no one I found lives in complete isolation from the mainstream. Many of my subjects have websites that they update using laptop computers, and cell phones that they charge on car batteries or solar panels. They do not wholly reject the modern world. Instead, they step away from it and choose the parts that they want to bring with them.

Thanks to Mr. Foglia, many more images are on view here. Below, the widely-acclaimed poet Forrest Gander creates a found-text poem (from Mr. Foglia's interviews in these communities) and Brady Earnhart adds a score that finds a meditative center across this wide sweep of images. We'd also like to Mike Luster, of the Arkansas Folklife Program at Arkansas State University, for suggesting Re-Wilding.

ReWilding from Forrest Gander on Vimeo.

Sunday Song: Bonnie "Prince" Billy

 

This Sunday we'd like to offer this song by one of our favorite musicians, Bonnie "Prince" Billy. Over the last two decades he's made some of the most consistently interesting music we've heard, constantly shifting across the terrains of country, folk, rock and even a little gospel here and there.

He's just contributed two songs to Save Our Gulf in the hopes that the sales can help bolster the work of that organization and its collaborators at the Waterkeeper Alliance. Later this month Drag City records will release the "There Is No God" b/w "God Is Love" 10" LP, with downloads also available; all proceeds go to the worthwhile work of restoring the Gulf. The video and press release follow below:

On June 21, Bonnie 'Prince' Billy will present "There Is No God" b/w "God Is Love"  the new single from Bonnie 'Prince' Billy and features the musical talents of Emmett Kelly, Ben Hall, Pete Cummings, Peter Townsend, Billy Contreras, Cassie Berman and Rachel Korine. The songs were recorded by Mark Nevers and mastered by Paul Oldham.

We are so very lucky to have the profits from the sale of these recordings go to Save Our Gulf c/o Waterkeeper Alliance and The Turtle Hospital to support efforts to clean up and maintain waterways and the lives dependent upon them.

These funds and all funds donated to Save Our Gulf goes directly to supporting the work of seven Waterkeepers on the Gulf Coast who were directly impacted by the BP oil disaster.

Save Our Gulf is a coalition of Waterkeepers brought together in the wake of the BP oil disaster to lead the fight to restore and protect local watersheds, coastal communities and the Gulf of Mexico.  We hold polluters and decision makers accountable and promote the sustainability of our communities.  Our vision is for all communities to have waterways that are swimmable, drinkable and fishable.

Almanac For Moderns: The Voice At Midnight

June Fourth

I waited for them at the bottom of the hill, listening to the sounds in the hot night that had no intention of trying to sleep before the stroke of midnight. There was the distant hum and outcry of machines on the highway, which is now become, by a modern paradox, the most human of sounds. Beneath it ran the thirsty chanting of the insects in the dried grass. And listening, I heard more birds' voices than one would suppose. There were sleepy outcries from birds I could not guess--robins and catbirds, I think--and the calling of the whippoorwill somewhere three hills and dales away. Sometimes the song sparrow or the field sparrow spoke out suddenly from sleep, as if a dream had half awakened him. Then a voice arose--not drowsily or in petulance or fear--but in a genuine song, repeated at intervals, the canticle of some bird who was accustomed to sing vespers, and was at this best then, as the thrush sings best in twilight or the nightingale by moonlight. 

Presently my friends came along. I heard their laughter and it fell like broken glass on the solid darkness. The bird fell silent, and I went along with them, regretting the singer, and the moment I knew I should never forget, when I stood in the darkness by the spring, listening for the first time to some bird that was new to me.

More information on our Almanac For Moderns project and the work of Donald Culross Peattie can be found here.