Little Worlds - Marshall Portraits - Morgan Diep

Marshall has changed. It is a much different place from when I moved here. And really, it’s all good.

Little Worlds - Lionel Filiss

Lionell Filiss and his daughter, Jemima, Big Pine, 1983.

We lost Lionell Filiss this past week. Lionell had been a mainstay in the county for well over forty years. I would see him at parties, at demonstrations, at music festivals, and most recently at his daughter Jemima’s store, the Laurel River Store, on Highway 25-70 where it turns up the mountain to Hot Springs.

I had the opportunity to interview Lionell, along with his wife Mary, and Jemima when I was documenting the building of I-26, a project that eventually became my book, The New Road. Here are some excerpts from that interview that speak to who Lionell was.

It seemed like people in our situation had a local family that sort of took you under their wing. You became some kind of extended family. The first year we were here we grew tobacco. We had seventy year old people in the fields showing us how to do it., not only showing us, but out doing it. When I first moved here, daily I’d go up to the local store. There’d always be guys hanging out. They’d done some farming work in thee morning, and then they came for a Moon Pie and a drink, and we’d swap lies and tell jokes and stuff. There was a secular sense of community. The cohesiveness may be hard for some people to believe.

The most meaningful thing I could do was to take care of Mother Earth, or at least the portion that I could take care of because anything that I did for money seemed senseless. I think the American Dream is flawed. It was less meaningful. Just the fact that I could work a patch of ground and build up the soil. Anything I did around here was much more meaningful than putting some nylon carpet down in somebody’s house. I did mention to some people the best floor I ever had was a dirt floor. You raked it once a day whether it needed it or not.

Whatever the kids are going to do they’re going to do., but at least they saw this. I thought it was important that they know that, if they had to, they could raise their own food.

Lionell was a good man. A quiet man. Unassuming. A common man. A man you could count on to help. Madison County will miss him.

Lionell at the anti racism rally in Marshall.

Little Worlds - Social Change

Farmer Donald Stokes teaching English as a second language to Haitian migrant farmworkers, Newton Grove, NC 1987.

A few days ago I received a phone call from a young Ph.D student in History at Duke University. Ayanna was Haitian-American from New York and as part of a personal project was researching Haitian migrant farmworkers in eastern North Carolina. She found this image of mine in the archive at the Duke Library where much of my work is housed. We talked at some length about the picture, my work, her studies and research. The call left me heartened.

When I first started making photographs seriously I viewed the medium as a tool for social change. I wanted my pictures to make a difference in the world in the manner of Timothy O’Sullivan, Lewis Hine, and W. Eugene Smith. I wanted to picture the human condition and have those pictures elicit change.

The sheer omnipresence of photographs in this day in time makes that goal near impossible. One rarely sees images like Nick Ut’s Napalm Girl that helped change public opinion about the Viet Nam War and certainly altered that young woman’s life. Or, W. Eugene Smith’s story about Maude Callen, a Black nurse midwife in South Carolina in the 1950s in Life Magazine that helped Callen build the clinic she dreamed of.

I’ve been fortunate as a photographer. My work with non-profits and philanthropic foundations has offered me the opportunity to document the human condition. I worked with the Rural Advancement Fund for a number of years, both on staff and as a freelancer, and one of my jobs was to photograph small struggling family farmers in the two Carolinas. I want to believe some of those pictures made a difference in someone’s life.

Photography is largely about memory. Pictures stimulate our minds and inform us of the textures and gestures of life, the way things were, and how people acted. They remind us of who we were and where we were at that time. Sometimes they cause us to think differently, to open our minds, to educate us about new ways to view the world.

Yet, still, I often wonder how much of a difference a photograph can make.

And then a call from Ayanna, expressing her interest in this picture made thirty-five years earlier, her questions and curiosity, and me understanding the picture has moved her.

And I think, Perhaps this the definition of social change?

Little Worlds - the Mountain Pre-Heat, Part 2

After five full days and nights of hard work - cutting and gathering wood, loading the kilns, stoking the fires, carrying more wood, and weathering hot days and rainy days - the potters were ready to cut loose and relax. That came in the form of the Pottery Olympics, an event new to me and one I would clearly never participate in.

The potters were broken up into four teams that competed against each other in a number of clay-related events. There were judges who scored every event although I later discovered that cheating was expected and bribing the judges was completely okay. The two referees were on hand to keep it from getting totally out of control.

The referees and judges, Joey Sheehan, Michael Manes, Josh Copus, Alex Matisse, Camille Shaffer and Joey’s daughter.

The preparations for the games were elaborate and detailed - costumes, dances, shouting practice. The events themselves were challenging and interesting mainly to the potters - the 5 minute vessel that held the most water; the best piece thrown on a 90 degree wheel; the best 5 minute piece thrown with two people on the wheel (much harder than it sounds; and a couple of other competitions.

But, clearly, the defining and fun-filled event was the team tug of war. It came last. A large sheet of plastic was spread out and coated with many mud buckets full of liquid clay.

At different times during the day, but most especially during the tug of war, Josh would sidle up to me and ask what I thought of it all. I didn’t know how to answer. It clearly wasn’t an old man’s affair and just gawking from the sidelines was exhausting and left me and my camera mud splattered. It seemed silly and almost pretentious.

I’ve thought about it a lot in the two weeks hence and began to understand the mud bowl as part of a piece. I thought back to the beginning, specifically the half-loaded kiln, glowing like a temple, a testament to hands, and clay, and the earth that bore it. And then the extended firing, the purification, and the rebirth of the clay as something totally new to the world.

I began to see the tug of war differently, too. There was something wonderfully primitive about it, a kind of baptism in clay. A cleansing. A complete immersion and joining with the clay. For the potters I suspect it was a deeply spiritual experience, a commitment not only to the clay, but to the earth that bore them.

The Aftermath.

Josh Copus

Little Worlds - the Mountain Pre-Heat

As some of you know, I have been doing pottery under the guidance of Josh Copus for the last six months. My original motivation was to make an urn for my mother-in-law’s, Faye Stilwell, ashes, which I did.

Last week, Josh, in conjunction with WOODFIRENC and Starworks, hosted The Mountain Pre-Heat, a week-long conference and workshop on wood-fired pottery. There were over forty potters in attendance, and everyone brought work to fire in Josh’s three kilns. The participants were young and old, some masters and some beginners, not much farther along than I am, and everyone enthusiastic and working hard.

In my work as a photographer, I have been around a lot of potters, often making images over a period of days, and learning something about their process, and them. But at the pre-heat I was fortunate to experience a community of potters, absorb their energy and knowledge, and make photographs. What I came away thinking about was the unity of the group—the sharing of knowledge, the lack of competition, the hard work of firing three kilns all day and night for four consecutive days, and the fun everyone was having.

What follows are some of the images I made over the course of the workshop. I wasn’t there non-stop so there are many gaps in the coverage of the event. Because of the number of pictures, this will be the first of two blog posts.

Last day of the firing, Lower Brush Creek, 2022.

Pieces for the kilns.

Preparing the pottery and loading the kilns.

Semi-loaded kiln, like a temple for clay, the earth.

Josh and other potters building the firebox on the third kiln, which had never been fired.

Kristin bricking and sealing the kiln door.

Firing, stoking, and side-stocking the kiln to a temperature 2100 degrees.

Joah, winding down, Lower Brush Creek,

Little Worlds - Chan

Chan Gordon, April 22, 2022, Asheville, NC.

Our community and the world at large lost one of its shining lights. Chan Gordon succumbed to ALS last Friday evening after a relatively, and mercifully, short battle with this devastating disease.

I met Chan shortly after moving to the Asheville area in 1973. He and his wife Miegan had opened The Captains Bookshelf, which they owned and operated together for close to fifty years. It quickly became a haven for those of us with a love for books, good conversation, art, and general good will. They had a wonderful collection of photography books, among many topics, and it was easy to stay lost in the store looking at books.

Chan was a generous man who regularly reached out to artists, writers, craftspeople and anyone part of the growing bohemian community in 70s and 80s Asheville. We all remember his infectious smile, his subtle flirtatiousness, his sense of humor, his love of cocktails, his loquacious manner, and, of course, his books. He loved to help people.

I was fortunate to share a longish visit with him in late April. The disease was clearly taking a toll. He had lost a lot of weight and his energy level was dissipating. And this man of words, of language, of story, could barely speak. His speech was ragged and without Miegan acting as interpreter, I would have missed half of what he was saying. But the smile was the same, his laugh. He amazed me with his seeming acceptance of his situation.

When I called to make sure if it was okay to visit, I asked him when would be the best time to come, thinking he would say “in the morning” when he likely had more energy. Not so. “Come at cocktail hour,” he said. “That’s when I’m at my best.”

When I got up to leave, I went over to give him a hug, something we always did when we saw each other. But this time, knowing it could be our last hug, we kissed on the lips, a level of affection we both wanted to keep with us.

Little Worlds - My New Camera

Last week, not long after my brother arrived for a visit, we drove up to Barry and Laura Rubenstein’s farm. The plan was to trade some of Leslie’s healing salve for some plants. Barry and Laura are exceptional farmers and produce a variety of plants and vegetables that they have sold at tailgate markets in Asheville for decades.

As we arrived Barry approached our car and said loudly, “Hope no one is scared of snakes,” as he carried a five foot long black snake. “I’m moving this guy up to the greenhouse because of the mice problem.”

“Barry,” I said. “I just got this new camera and how about if the first picture I make with it is of you with the snake?”

Barry with black snake, Chandler Creek, Madison County, 2022.

Laura Rubenstein, 2022

We hung out. Talked about all manner of things and people. We ate muffins and Sicilian orange cake and drank coffee. We looked at plants, and their pet pigs, and went on a thrill 4-wheeler ride up the mountain to see their fields with beginnings of potatoes, garlic, and tomatoes. It was altogether a delightful time.

Barry and Laura’s upper field, Chandler Creek, 2022.

My brother Mark likes to fish so we spoke with our neighbors, Anna and Marco, about coming over to their pond for a couple of hours one day. Mark caught a couple of small fish that he threw back and both of us tried unsuccessfully to hook a gigantic carp that was roaming the pond. Mostly we visited with Anna and the three young boys in her charge, two of hers and a neighbor. They were all most interested in Mark’s fishing gear while we concerned ourselves with keeping them out of the pond.

And the new camera? I love it, so quick and precise, comfortable in my hand, and the color, lovely.

Mark showing Zeno a fishing lure, Little Pine, 2022.

Anna with Ziggy, Waylon, and Zeno, Little Pine, 2022.

Little Worlds - Choice

On Wednesday, returning home after a long day in Asheville, I saw something I had never seen in Madison County, a pro-choice rally organized by students at Madison High School. I stopped to speak with the students and make photographs.

We are living in perilous times with our democracy being threatened and our rights being trampled. Despite these ongoing dangers, I came away from my short visit with these students filled with a sense of hope and awe. I can only applaud these young people - for their activism, their strength of character, and their courage in standing up to the voices of oppression that want to return our society to an unwanted past. I, and many other people, thank you.

Little Worlds - Tobacco

Not long after Mothers’ Day, when the danger of a late frost had passed, farmers would begin setting out their tobacco plants. Depending on the lay of the land, this job was accomplished by tractor with two or four people riding a tobacco setter, or in this case by hand.

Hand setting had to be done during a wet season when the ground was moist from recent rains. It was a long process, laborious, and hard on your back. At the end of the day your boots carried many pounds of mud. It was not a job for the faint of heart. But as my friend Dellie Norton said to me, “We had to work at it, but the people up here liked to do the work. They was getting some pay out of it where they couldn’t get no pay out of anything else back in them days. It was really good that they could find something to make money from.”

I’ve written about this before, but it has always struck me as the height of irony that America’s leading cause of preventable death provided life for mountain farming communities. When I look at the top photograph it seems that the men aren’t carrying a basket of tobacco plants, but a casket. The metaphor is complete.

McKinley Massey and neighbors planting tobacco, Big Pine, 1982. From Sodom Laurel Album

Little Worlds--Tobacco

When I moved to Madison County in the early 1970s, until the late 1990s when the federal tobacco program was ended, tobacco beds were a frequent sight throughout the county. Famers would have sowed their beds in late February and covered them with plastic sheeting to protect against cold weather. The tires were placed over the beds to keep the plastic from blowing away in the winds of March. It was removed in early May when the last frost usually occurred. By that time the beds would be bursting with plants, ready to be set out in the fields a couple of weeks later.

Little Worlds--Pottery and Me

I want to thank everyone for their kind words of encouragement about my first attempts at making pots.

I’ve come to this endeavor late in life. The immediate catalyst was my mother-in-law’s passing and my desire to honor her with an urn for her ashes made by my own hands from clay from our land.

I’ve long been interested in ceramics. Some years ago, I had the good fortune to do a book on twenty North Carolina potters, The Living Tradition, for the North Carolina Pottery Center in Seagrove and we’re surrounded by many friends and neighbors who are potters. Leslie and I have collected much of their work, which is continually inspiring.

I love having the clay in my hands - molding it, shaping it, arguing with it. It’s akin to gardening, having my hands in the dirt. It’s soothing, relaxing, and tactile in a way that photography and writing cannot begin to duplicate.

I can’t begin to say enough about Josh Copus. He generously and graciously has allowed me to come to his studio and play at my own speed, which is nothing but slow. He is not so much a teacher as a guide — encouraging, suggesting, advising, always positive and enthusiastic about his own work and mine. He guides by example and his intensity and energy are infectious. I couldn’t ask for more.

So, thank you, Josh. You’ve given me more than you know — a new way of seeing, a new voice. And as I look at my very elemental first pieces, I understand it is never too late to try something new and am reminded, once again, that art is what links all of us as human beings.

Josh Copus inspecting the charcoal stoke, Lower Brush Creek, 2022

Little Worlds--Marshall Portraits

Polly Gott at the Madison County Arts Council’s Exhibition of her Watercolors, Marshall, 2022.

Peter and Polly Gott are legends in Madison County and beyond. They moved to the Shelton Laurel community in the early 1960s and began their lives as homesteaders, musicians, log home builders, parents, and revered members of the community. My earliest memory of the Gotts was at Dellie Norton’s house in Sodom. Dellie’s long driveway was lined with about 30 cherry trees and Peter and Polly, along with their two children, Susi and Tim, arrived one Sunday afternoon to pick cherries. But first came visiting. They unloaded instruments from their van and proceeded to offer those of us gathered on Dellie’s porch a concert. Dellie and her sister Berzilla sang ballads.

After a time, they packed their instruments and Peter climbed high into the trees and proceeded to pick buckets of red, yellow and black fruit that he lowered to the ground that Polly and the kids sorted and loaded into the van. For me, relatively new to the community, it was an early lesson on community relationships.

Polly is an artist, a gifted painter. It’s perhaps her first love and her studio high on the mountain overlooking the white rocks of Shelton Laurel is brimming with amazing renderings of the world around her. Leslie and I bought one for our daughter Kate who, living on the west coast, wanted a memory of place. A perfect gift.

Little Worlds--Tobacco

It’s mid March and in an earlier time in Madison County, that meant local farmers would be sowing their tobacco beds in preparation for planting in mid May.

Since the passage of the Agricultural Adjustment Act in the early 1930s, tobacco had been the life blood of Madison County and the county was for decades the leading producer of burley tobacco in the State. The AAA was designed to keep farmers on their land and, in that, it was very effective. I have long been struck by the irony of how our country’s leading cause of preventable death provided life for small farmers like Doug Wallin.

Tobacco seed is miniscule and one small packet was enough to plant a 6’x50’ bed. To get an even sowing, farmers would mix the seed with a bucket of sifted wood ash and carefully spread it over the length of the bed. It was a meticulous job and people prided themselves on their ability to produce a bed bursting with plants, evenly spread out over the length and width of the entire bed. The plants would then be individually pulled and transplanted to the field, often by hand if the land was steep, but also with tractor and tobacco setter.

Tobacco was called the thirteen month crop and every step in the process was hard work. But people were proud to do the work because it provided a dependable source of cash where there had been none.

I had the opportunity to work a lot of tobacco when I first moved here and I must admit that I enjoyed it. It provided me access to the community and taught me valuable lessons about life in the mountains. But working with a group of neighbors toward a definable goal was also fun - the banter, the stories told, the laughter, the shared work. I do miss it and those times of community cohesion.

Little Worlds--Marshall Portraits

Roland Twining, Big Pine, 2021.

I met Roland in the early 1980s when he and his wife, Ida, moved to the Big Pine community. Roland’s family were farmers in Baltimore, Maryland, and he brought his skills to Madison County and raised bumper crops of tomatoes and tobacco and incredible gardens. He then moved into construction and was one of the first people to bring alternative building practices to the community. We fought fires together.

Family called him back to Maryland in the early 1990s where he continued building and raising gardens. He and Ida never lost their love of the mountains and the friendships they made here and come back to Madison County a couple of times a year. We are fortunate to be on the list of people they visit when they come back. Our children are also friends although they live across the country.

During their last visit Ida asked me to make some photographs of them. I had made many images of them years ago and Ida was interested in seeing how they looked now, 40 years later. My portrait of Ida was published on this blog on March 5.

Lasting friendships seem rare these days, but grow more important with age. The older I get, I’m more appreciative of these old relationships and the time spent together, knowing full well the role they have played in making me who I am.

Little Worlds--Marshall Portraits

Josh Copus in his Studio, Brush Creek, 2022.

Potter, teacher, entrepreneur, good humored Josh Copus in his Studio, 2022.

Those of you who know Josh, know him to be perpetually enthusiastic, boisterous, energetic beyond compare, and upbeat beyond belief. I was pleased to capture him in a more pensive mood—thoughtful, quiet, an artist engaged with his inner self.

Little Worlds--Marshall Portraits

Madame Mallory at the Marshallgras celebration, 2022.

Madame Mallory McCoy, Marshall, 2022. #robamberg.com #littleworlds #madame mallory #girlofmydreams #martigras #rurallife

Little Worlds--Marshall Portraits

Erich Hubner, guitar player extraordinaire, El Hub, Madison County Arts Council Backbone, all around nice guy, and cute, too. At the Marshallgras celebration, 2022.

Little Worlds--Marshall Portraits

Late for International Women’s Day. Teresa Griffin with her first deer, a nine point.

Teresa Griffin with her first deer, a nine point. PawPaw, 2021.