BRATTLEBORO — When I first walked into the Cotton Mill for the inaugural Open Studio and Holiday Sale 19 years ago, I was grateful for the art of the place.
My then-spouse, an architect, had walked me though years of appreciating architectural form and function, materials, and craftsmanship - the likes of which we rarely see these days.
I was smitten.
A decade or so later, I was soaking in the air of the noble old Cotton Mill at weekly jams hosted by the Vermont Jazz Center, housed on the second floor. I knew then that the Cotton Mill was a uniquely creative space.
As the annual Cotton Mill Open Studio and Holiday Sale nears the end of its second decade, I've wondered about the wide range of art and enterprise that fills that space to the brim.
The list of tenants is eclectic and intriguing - from food to fodder for creative writing. Here are a few of them.
Imagining words
With an MFA in fiction, Brian Mooney was a visiting professor of writing at Marlboro College who made a living as a freelance writer for many years until the market went dry during the recession and he had to scramble. Preparing to lead a writing workshop, he once found himself more immersed than usual in the preparation of writing prompts.
Seeking succinct impact, he developed prompts in several categories, which were eventually condensed to two. Prodded by his students who wanted access to these inspirations, Mooney created the Storymatic.
A collection of 540 prompt cards, the Storymatic, according to ad copy, offers “[t]rillions of combinations,” while “[w]ild cards prompt you to go in directions you might not ordinarily go.”
Writers use these cards; improv comedy leans on them; artists find them inspiring; ad agencies warm up creative sessions with them. They've even shown up in writing rooms in Los Angeles, where screen- and scriptwriters throw out plot twists. And Helen Hummel, a Vermont singer/songwriter, has an album just out with four songs inspired by the Storymatic.
“It's wonderful and fascinating to see what people are doing with this thing that started out as pieces of paper in brown paper bags,” Mooney muses.
Mooney has been creating in the Cotton Mill for five years. As his list of accounts grew to include myriad shops, educators and catalogues, he outgrew his first space and moved into one of the spaces formerly occupied by the New England Center for Circus Arts.
For Mooney, the mill actually sparks imagination.
“The smells here of maple syrup and leather and wood and granola - even sweat, when you walk by the dance studio - it's people working and making things, and the smell of this place is incredible,” he says. “It inspires me as soon as I take my first breath of the day in the building.”
All the sensory stimuli of the mill puts Mooney “in a positive frame of mind to make my own stuff, and I love that. Even just the light on a winter morning when the sun is coming up over the hills on the other side of the Connecticut River - it's incredible.”
Metal stop
Metalsmith Will Alderfer grew up outside Philadelphia, where he first learned blacksmithing in his Waldorf high school.
Relaying his passion for metals and the creations they invite, Alderfer recalls, “Growing up, I loved medieval history, especially knights and swords, Lord of the Rings ... Beowulf.”
Throughout high school and college, Alderfer was fortunate to have had great mentors who taught him both essential and esoteric techniques of metalsmithing, including the Japanese Mokume-gane technique, a layering of non-ferrous metals that are fused into a pattern and carved.
This method is a hallmark of Alderfer's work, which uses different types of metals in layers that form intricate designs.
The greater part of the artist's workload: custom wedding bands. Most of his market is word-of-mouth, which yields a closer personal connection to his clients.
When I visited Alderfer's studio, he showed me pieces that reflect the arduous and involved process of metalsmithing. Some of it is work he no longer produces but keeps in view, no doubt as a reminder of process: iron, aluminum and copper casting, and mold making. Carving out the negative to yield a positive.
Having previously worked for and by himself in the basement of a home he shares with his wife, Rosie Nevins-Alderfer, he eventually realized that his creative process needed people. He needed to be around others working hard at what they're called to do.
“This is more of an authentic space, and there's a genuine spirit here. A community of friends among artists.”
Kitchen fresh
Ingrid Chrisco started True North Granola in her kitchen 12 years ago, when she was still a middle-school principal. By the time she retired three years ago, Chrisco had 44 years under her belt as an educator, 25 of them in Brattleboro.
Without a lot of capital, True North stated as a small, cash-based business. “We'd send an order and ask that the customer return a check,” Chrisco said.
To her delight, when she first started producing her products, people started scooping up the original True North granola that she sold at the Brattleboro Farmers' Market. Now True North is a bustling business producing 17 products - all at Cotton Mill Hill.
Over the years, business has grown because customers have stayed loyal. For Chrisco, success has been made in these personal connections. The True North customers have remained loyal because they're given individualized attention through notes and newsletters, and because Chrisco and fellow creators respond to their needs and wishes for products such as gluten-free granola and muesli.
“For us to be in the Cotton Mill has created a community of people we have loved engaging with. There are three other specialty foods in our neck of the woods at Cotton Mill, and we all contribute to each other. It's very energizing and affirming. This is a stunning building,” she adds.
Being there has even more value for Chrisco and company, she says, because “there was a vision not to raze the building, but to adapt it to changing times.”
People power
Inlay artist T. Breeze Verdant has been at Cotton Mill for 14 years, having moved from a Williamsville barn from which he'd worked for several years.
“I needed a better studio, and I needed to be around people,” recalls Verdant, whose creative output has moved from specialty boxes that were a combination of marquetry - the creation of an image using finely cut and scorched veneers - and inlay, the process of gluing solid wood to solid wood.
As the economy became more dubious and Verdant's artistic vision expanded, he began to specialize in jewelry, which comprises the bulk of his work now.
Verdant's work is seen in dozens of galleries across the United States.
“As my intention has gotten clearer, especially after a long meditation retreat a couple of years ago, it seems like my business has been more successful. I'm creating product I believe in, and that's especially because I love the recycled aspect of my business and the sources of my materials.”
The recycling of materials in his work had to do with Buddhist reflection on “right livelihood,” which prompted him to contemplate some questions: How can I have a path with heart? Where do my beliefs align with my potential livelihood?
At shows, when a customer buys a piece because of its design and without really knowing what is entailed in its creation, Verdant will express gratitude that the art is appreciated.
“Do you know what these are made of?” he'll ask the customer. “Do you know what you're looking at?”
He'll then explain that his materials come from a variety of sources: ebony from a shipwreck, copper from piano strings, swordfish bill, driftwood from St. John or Martha's Vineyard, shipbuilders' or bow-makers' scraps. The list goes on.
Forging connections
Rosie Schulick of Rosie's Wonders began building her foundation as an artist during her time as a student at the Putney School; she developed it further at Bennington College.
First a painter and jewelry designer, Schulick has recently turned to creating “connection” cards. She calls them such for philosophical reasons. A greeting is not always the intent of a card.
In fact, she shares some research: that receiving a card - especially unexpectedly or on a non-occasion - has proven to improve one's health. It's not about fanfare; it's about forging human connection.
Schulick expresses an inimitable style in her work, simple but lovely. Some of her accounts have asked for glitter and clutter, but she holds her own: Less is more.
As she talks about her wonders, she explains being inspired by nature, by the energy around her and by animals. Her appreciation of animal-human relationships is evident throughout her studio, as is her commitment to being environmentally responsible by using 100-percent recycled paper and plant-based sleeves for her products.
Her cards appear in 100 different shops around the U.S., and she also sells through word of mouth, the Brattleboro Farmers' Market, at trade shows, and online.
While she works largely solo, she is fueled by the atmosphere of the Cotton Mill.
“It's wonderful. There's a liveliness of community and a great vibe of energy here where small and large businesses are working all day every day. There's a great entrepreneurial spirit here. I love working with people, bouncing ideas off colleagues. It's hard to make all decisions by yourself.”
Schulick looks forward to the Open Studio, noting that people come from all around - New York, New England, and beyond. “They're often here for the weekend to enjoy all of what Brattleboro offers. Cotton Mill is one of those draws- so many different artists, different skills.”
As I step back from this closer look at Cotton Mill artists and craftspeople, I understand that art needs spaciousness in order to gestate and thrive. And that's certainly what the Cotton Mill affords.
I'm eager to revisit all those I've spoken with and to get an inside look at others' studios and workspaces as the calendar first turns to December.