Pottery Story Archives - West Virginia Public Broadcasting

Appalachian Artist Gets Her Mojo Back, Appalachian Woman Gets Her Unicorn Back

Here’s a story about a unicorn. Well, it’s really a story about an artist in Appalachia who lost her mojo. And it’s about the woman who helped her get her mojo back. With the help of the unicorn.

This story originally aired in the March 24, 2024 episode of Inside Appalachia.

Once upon a time there was a girl named Ashley Nollen, who loved unicorns. In her own words, “I have been a unicorn fanatic since I was a little girl. My favorite movie in the world growing up was The Last Unicorn and I really feel like unicorns, for me, symbolize hope.”

Growing up in northern Virginia, Nollen went to the Maryland Renaissance Festival every year with her family, but they couldn’t afford to buy things there. So she made an internal vow.

“I’m going to grow up and become an adult and have adult money and spend it here.”

Her vow didn’t take long to fulfill. At age 17, Nollen landed her dream job: working in a bookstore. When her first paycheck arrived, she set it aside. Now she had cash, she knew exactly where she would spend it: at the renaissance festival.

Nollen circled the entire event twice before choosing a blue speckled mug with a braided handle. The man who sold her the mug was a jouster named (fittingly enough) Lance. Lance told Nollen to not stir inside the mug with a spoon and that it was dishwasher safe, but not to let it straddle a pin when going through the dishwasher.

Nollen loved the mug. “It had a little unicorn in it that was sitting in it looking up and it had crossed legs and cloven hoofs and such detailed hair in its mane. It was unique.”

She took good care of it, and the mug accompanied her to college a couple of years later. Her junior year, Nollen acquired a roommate, a nice guy who did dishes. One day he put the unicorn mug in the dishwasher. Over a pin.

“I didn’t know, or maybe I could have saved it,” Nollen recalled. “And when I pulled it out, the whole thing just kind of broke apart into pieces and flew across my kitchen.”

Her roommate promised to replace the mug next year. But when they got back to the festival, the shop was gone. Nollen could remember its location within the event, but not the name. She began asking vendors about “the place that sold mugs.” (If you’ve never been to a renaissance festival or faire, a lot of places sell mugs.)

Nollen, who enjoys role-playing games (RPG), had to laugh as she recalled that day. It became something of a live RPG.

“This turned into like a real-life quest where each little vendor or shop I went to … you would talk to them and they would each give you, like, a little piece of the story.”

Since Nollen didn’t know that Lance had only sold her the mug, not made it, she was actually asking the wrong question without being aware of that: did anyone know how she could find Lance? And people kept telling her he had gone north, or south, or been in a joust gone bad and died.

“There were several reports of his demise,” Nollen said.

Meanwhile, the person who had actually made Nollen’s mug was alive and well in Lancaster, Ohio. Her name was (and still is) Anj Campbell. Like Lance, she is not dead.

Campbell first took up making mugs, as a hobby in Dayton, Ohio, back in 1982.

“I was a quiet and well-behaved suburban housewife,” Campbell said. “And the city of Dayton Parks and Recreation Department had an absolutely wonderful fine art and crafts center with incredibly reasonable pricing. It was the Riverbend Art Center. It was in an old Quonset hut down on the river in downtown Dayton. And they offered pottery.”

She tried several classes, but when she got to pottery, it just clamped a hold of her and never let go.

“It took over my life,” Campbell said. Campbell fell in love with the sound of the wheel and the feel of the clay.

“When everything sings, and you get the clay centered, and it’s not fighting you, and you’re literally listening to the clay with your hands, you can do it with your eyes shut. And everything just flows together. And it’s a wonderful, fluid, almost meditative tactile experience. And it just makes my heart happy. When I hit that zone, when everything flows. It’s like a prayer. That is the point at which work is prayer. And everything you are and everything you have experienced ends up in that clay somehow, some way.”

While Campbell was falling in love with the clay, people were falling in love with Campbell’s work. She took third place in the Riverbend Art Show with a mask she made. People began noticing her talent. A local artist approached. Did Campbell want to join him selling mugs on the renaissance faire circuit? Campbell wanted to, but she knew her work would have to stand out in a literal crowded field.

“So I started including drinking companions. Yes, drinking companions, because everybody and his brother will make a mug. But mine come with someone you can talk to who will never ever ask you for money.”

The little unicorn that captured Nollen’s heart was part of a long parade of mythical mug-dwelling creatures.

Campbell began describing creatures she’d fashioned. “So there are dragons, some of whom are grumpy, some of whom are pleasant, some of whom are downright curious as to why you’re drinking their bathwater. There are unicorns there are Pegasus, or Pegasi, if that is the correct Greek plural, mermaids, fairies, fawns, anything that people can think of ends up in a mug. Someone else wanted a pig so she ended up getting a pig with wings. That way, you will always have someone to drink with you and you will never spend the morning alone.”

Assorted drinking companions.

*Photo Credit: Wendy Welch/West Virginia Public Broadcasting*

Faire-goers loved the whimsical practicality of Campbell’s work; her mugs flew off the shelves. Campbell’s husband pointed something out to her.

“He said I could make at least as much money making and selling pottery as I was making at a retail job. And he was right.”

Campbell began circuit riding to renaissance faires around the country. Occasionally, she got to put on medieval garb and an Irish accent to banter with customers, but usually she was backstage somewhere working the clay.

“It was a case of literally hauling the wheel and the kiln around with us so that when I was based somewhere, I would have the opportunity to work,” Campbell said.

Sales were great — until the 1990s recession hit. As sales slowly dried up, Campbell and her husband divorced, and she made another difficult decision.

“The pottery just wasn’t going to be making enough money to allow me to continue to depend on that as my sole income,” Campbell said. “So given a choice between continuing to live indoors and enjoy the immense pleasure of running water, and heat and light. I stopped pottering full-time and started working again.”

Nollen — the high school student who spent her own money to buy her own unicorn mug — didn’t know it, but she bought it around the last year Campbell sent her wares to the Maryland Renaissance Festival.

Campbell moved to Lancaster, Ohio — without husband or kiln. And soon pottery became part of her past life.

She worked in the photo lab at Walmart, worked in the pharmacy at Walmart, worked as an alcohol and substance abuse addictions counselor. Then she was offered her current position of leasing agent, at an apartment complex in Lancaster, Ohio.

“It seemed I never had enough time or energy simultaneously, to go and get the shop set up and make the trip out there to continue to try to work on the pottery,” Campbell said. “So up until a couple of years ago, I wasn’t pottering anymore. I was just working. But then something very strange happened.”

COVID-19 hit. The renaissance faire and festival community set up a Facebook page so artists could sell their creations online during the lockdowns. That’s how Nollen, now living in Virginia with a husband and two children, figured she could finally replace her beloved unicorn.

“All of a sudden I had access to vendors that were all across the country,” Nollen said. “I put out the request, I described the mug.”

Soon the owner of the shop where Campbell had sold her mugs was tagged. He gave Nollen Campbell’s name and told her she was on Facebook.

“I found two people with that name. One had a picture of a cat and I just figured that had to be her,” Nollen said.

Campbell recalled the Facebook message. “I got contacted out of the blue by an absolutely delightful young lady named Ashley Nollen, who explained to me that she had been trying for more than 10 years to find me.”

“And she just couldn’t believe that I’d been looking for her for a decade,” Nollen said.

Nollen’s search had made Campbell famous in the online festival and faire community. People who owned one of Campbell’s mugs were proudly posting photos and turning down offers doubling the original purchase price. People who didn’t have one were demanding details on how to place an order.

Nollen put it well. She said that Campbell “had to go on her own journey and her own quest.”

Campbell sat a few months with the news that someone had been looking for her that hard, that long, wanting what she had made that much. Her kiln was in a faraway outbuilding at a friend’s farm in rural New York, covered with dust and a tarp. She had no idea where her clay mojo was. But she liked Nollen. And she remembered the times the clay sang in her hands.

Campbell and her son made a winter’s journey together. “And I got my stuff from my friend who had been keeping everything stored in her barn,” Campbell said. They hauled the kiln several hundred miles to Lancaster, Ohio.

Campbell fired off a series of unicorn mugs. She also shaped dragons, cats, hedgehogs and myriad other drinking companions for the community clamoring for her work. But Campbell made sure the first unicorns went to the Nollen family.

The package arrived the day before the mail stopped running for Christmas. Campbell had included a few extra surprises. There were nine mugs in the package.

The bunny mug with its inspiration.

*Photo Credit: Wendy Welch/West Virginia Public Broadcasting*

Nollen had told Campbell about her children: her son Jerome’s passion for red, her daughter Cordelia’s favorite book Honey Bunny. Campbell sent a child-sized mug holding a cheerful waving bunny. Plus, a small unicorn mug (Cordelia was three at the time.). There were also two mugs for Jerome, one housing a red dragon, and a red mug housing a green dragon.

“It was fabulous. It was Christmas before Christmas,” Nollen said. “And in the nature of children everywhere, my son wanted my daughter’s unicorns and she wanted his dragons. Nothing unusual there.”

Nollen paused. “You know, just having her having her create again, it felt amazing to be part of that journey and part of her journey, too.” Then she grinned. “I mean, my baby’s gonna need a mug.”

Oberon, the son who joined Nollen’s family in 2023, will be getting his own mug soon. “We figure on starting him with a unicorn,” Nollen said. Nollen’s husband also suffered dragon envy. Originally, he told Nollen just to get mugs for the children, but when he saw the special personalized creations of the bunny, dragons and unicorns, he felt a little left out. This will be rectified with the next order, Nollen said.

Campbell and her kiln still live in Lancaster. Five days a week she works in an office helping people rent apartments, and on the sixth day, she creates things. Campbell no longer depends on pottery for her living, which means she can experiment with designs.

“I can drag out those notebooks from 40 years ago, when my husband would look at a sketch I’d come up with and say, ‘You can’t do that. Nah. You’ll never sell it for the price it will be worth, and it’ll take up too much of your time.’ Forget that,” Campbell said. “So, yes, I still have all those notebooks from 40 years ago. And yes, now I’m getting to play with those things.”

“Artists need community,” Nollen said. “They can get too much up in themselves. They need to be appreciated. [Campbell] didn’t realize how much her art could mean to someone else … And I’m just so glad she came back to it.”

Nollen is a creative writer and avid book reviewer. She keeps her new unicorn mug by her side when writing. “It gives me writing mojo … We have to appreciate each other, so we all keep making stuff.”

Ashley Nollen holding two of the mugs Anj Campbell sent.

*Photo Credit: Wendy Welch/West Virginia Public Broadcasting*

Potter Anj Campbell modeling an All Souls shawl.

*Photo Courtesy of Anj Campbell*

——

This story is part of the Inside Appalachia Folkways Reporting Project, a partnership with West Virginia Public Broadcasting’s Inside Appalachia and the Folklife Program of the West Virginia Humanities Council.

The Folkways Reporting Project is made possible in part with support from Margaret A. Cargill Philanthropies to the West Virginia Public Broadcasting Foundation. Subscribe to the podcast to hear more stories of Appalachian folklife, arts and culture.

Remembering And Revisiting Resistance To The Mountain Valley Pipeline, Inside Appalachia

Red Terry’s property in Bent Mountain, Virginia, is in the path of the Mountain Valley Pipeline. She says the place was beautiful, but she’s worried about the dangers of the pipeline not far from her home. Plus, almost everybody has a favorite cup or coffee mug, but how far would you go to replace it? One woman would go pretty far. And… we explore an effort in western Virginia to make old-time music more available to Black musicians.

Plus, almost everybody has a favorite cup or coffee mug, but how far would you go to replace it? One woman would go pretty far.

And… we explore an effort in western Virginia to make old-time music more available to Black musicians.

You’ll hear these stories and more this week, Inside Appalachia.

In This Episode:

Back On Bent Mountain With Red And Coles Terry

Coles and Red Terry at their home in Virginia in 2024.

*Photo Credit: Mason Adams/West Virginia Public Broadcasting*

People have been fighting the Mountain Valley Pipeline since it was first announced. The project runs through West Virginia and Virginia, connecting natural gas terminals with a 303-mile pipeline stretching across some of Appalachia’s most rugged terrain. Almost immediately after construction began, protestors tried to block it by setting up platforms in trees along the route and living in them.

In 2018, host Mason Adams interviewed activist and tree sitter Theresa “Red” Terry, as she protested against the pipeline on her own property.

Six years later, with the pipeline nearly finished, Adams went back to Bent Mountain to talk with Red Terry and her husband Coles to hear what’s happened since Red came down from her tree sit.

The Last Unicorn (Mug)

The magic is in the mug.

*Photo Credit: Wendy Welch/West Virginia Public Broadcasting*

Folkways stories come in all shapes and sizes. And sometimes, they bring a little magic – like a story about how losing a very special mug can lead to finding something greater.

Folkways Reporter Wendy Welch brings us this tale of a potter who lost her mojo and a woman who helped her get it back.

Earl White’s Old-Time Music

Earl White (right) with wife and bandmate, Adrienne Davis, in their home in Floyd County, Virginia. White and Davis are both old-time musicians, and they host a music camp on their farm called Big Indian Music Camp.

*Photo Credit: Nicole Musgrave/West Virginia Public Broadcasting*

Appalachian old-time music brings together traditions from man cultures: African and African American, Native American and Scots-Irish. And yet, the contributions of Black and Indigenous musicians have often been erased or overlooked. In Floyd County, Virginia, one man has spent years working to make old-time music more available to Black musicians.

Folkways Reporter Nicole Musgrave has this story.

——

Our theme music is by Matt Jackfert. Other music this week was provided by Jeff Ellis, June Carter Cash, Joe Dobbs and the 1937 Flood, Earl White, Amethyst Kiah, Tyler Childers and Dinosaur Burps.

Bill Lynch is our producer. Zander Aloi is our associate producer. Our executive producer is Eric Douglas. Kelley Libby is our editor. Our audio mixer is Patrick Stephens.

You can send us an email: InsideAppalachia@wvpublic.org.

You can find us on Instagram, Threads and Twitter @InAppalachia. Or here on Facebook.

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Inside Appalachia is a production of West Virginia Public Broadcasting.

Crockery City: The Famous Past And Creative Future Of East Liverpool, Ohio's Pottery Scene

East Liverpool, Ohio, sits on the banks of the Ohio River where West Virginia, Pennsylvania and Ohio meet. For decades, this small town was known as the pottery capital of the world after immigrants from Stafforshire, England settled there and brought their pottery-making expertise with them. By the beginning of the 20th century, more than half of all dinnerware in America was made here. Today, only two major dinnerware manufacturers are left. But pottery is still central to the town’s identity—so much so that even the school mascot is inspired by the industry.

At one time, East Liverpool was home to more than 200 pottery factories. Today, only two major dinnerware manufacturers are left. But pottery is still central to the town’s identity—so much so that even the school mascot is inspired by the industry. Potter Pete is actually a giant kiln with a face and feet.

Passing Down The Pottery Legacy

Some in the local community are committed to passing down the legacy of pottery-making to a new generation. That commitment is on display at the Museum of Ceramics.

Housed in a converted post office building, the museum serves as a cultural hub in East Liverpool. Not only does it boast a comprehensive collection of ceramics with a connection to the region, but it also hosts pottery making classes through the Clay Academy.

Run by the museum, the academy is a summer program for kids to learn about both the art form and the history of pottery making. Emma Rose Kurtz, 14, was a student in Clay Academy before the COVID-19 pandemic.

“I’ve been involved in everything as a little kid, you know, just making pottery and having a childhood where I grew up with pottery all around me,” Kurtz said. “My grandparents have a huge collection, one of the biggest collections that I know of.”

Kurtz’s grandparents, Donna and William Gray, have been collecting pottery since their honeymoon when they stumbled upon a gray colored teapot that happened to be made by Harker Pottery which once operated in East Liverpool. William Gray’s mother and grandmother both worked at Harker. That one teapot led to one of the largest East Liverpool ceramics collections in the United States, according to the Grays. And their collection also led to their granddaughter’s passion for pottery.

The teachers at Clay Academy also have a family connection to pottery. Barrie Archer has designed her classes to focus both on the history and the practical skill of pottery making. She grew up going to her family’s ceramics business, Taylor Smith and Taylor Pottery, with her father.

“As a child, if my mother was busy and it was a weekend and my dad had to leave and go over to the pottery, then he usually took us with him,” Archer said.

Preserving The Past To Invigorate The Future Of Pottery

Archer and Kurtz are representative of a community proud of their heritage, but also committed to building on the past to create a new future for East Liverpool.

While it may no longer be “Crockery City,” as it was once known, East Liverpool is now attracting a whole new group of pottery makers. In recent years, people like Kim Holhmayor have been moving to East Liverpool because of ceramics and the potential to grow the arts scene here.

Holhmayer plans to offer classes for children and adults at the Museum of Ceramics.

And, she has high hopes for the East Liverpool ceramics scene.

Hohlmayer said she wants to grow East Liverpool into an arts community like ones she has visited in other parts of Ohio.

“I would love to see something like that here. [W]e have so much to offer.”

Before COVID hit, East Liverpool was already on the path towards turning this industrial city into a place geared towards the arts. Galleries, a community theater and craft breweries were all popping up on the main street. Making ceramics is much more than what happens on the factory floor. It’s a creative process. And that creativity makes East Liverpool’s future as an arts hub much more than a dream.

This story is part of the Inside Appalachia Folkways Reporting Project, which is made possible in part with support from Margaret A. Cargill Philanthropies to the West Virginia Public Broadcasting Foundation. Subscribe to Inside Appalachia to hear more stories of Appalachian folklife, arts, and culture.

This Folkways story originally aired in the May 27, 2022 episode of Inside Appalachia.

One Appalachian Potter's Twist On The Craft: Digging Clay

In rural Preston County, West Virginia, potter Mel Sword’s house is located at the end of a gravel road, near a road called “Wildflower Way” and a creek that feeds into the Cheat River. His home nestles rolling fields of green grass, and behind that are mounds of dirt, clay that to Sword is half the reason he bought this property about ten years ago.

In a special report exploring folkways traditions, as part of the Inside Appalachia Folkways Project, Caitlin Tan spent time with Sword to see how he is leaning on an old tradition to create modern day pottery.

Mel shows the string he uses to cut his clay. He tries to make all of his tools out of things he has around his shop.

The Pile

Sword practices an old kind of pottery technique – digging and processing his own clay, a practice of pottery that Appalachian’s ancestors did out of necessity for many years. It was a way to create plates, bowls and other ceramic tools. It is rare for a potter to dig their own clay today, but Sword still does it as a way of preserving an old technique.

While building his home, he created a large clay mound, made entirely of the dirt that surrounds his home. The pile is about 7 feet tall, 15 feet wide.

This is not any ordinary looking mound of clay one typically sees — it looks more like heavy dirt. Technically, it is clay soil right now, but it is the timely process of turning that soil into a moldable product that potters had to do before the industry was commercialized.

“Pottery is just something that is a necessary thing to have in your life.,” says Renee Margocee, a professional potter and executive director of the Tamarack Foundation for the Arts. She says in the early days in Appalachia, people had to source their own clay too, much like Sword. “And clay is something that can be found everywhere. And so you can literally use what is close at hand to create an object that is utilitarian.”

A Potter’s Love Story

Sword has been making pottery for much of his life, but he only started digging clay about 15 years ago. His reason, he says, was love. He took his then girlfriend, now wife, camping outside of Morgantown.

Mel’s “West Virginia Pearls.” He first made them for his wife on a camping trip at Cooper’s Rock.

“We were hiking through the rain, and I saw the clay and water coming off the hill. And I knew there was clay there so I just went over there a scooped a little up,” Sword recalls.

And he formed the clay into little round beads and left them in the campfire coals. And in the morning he said, “Here sweetie, here’s some West Virginia pearls.”

And that has become Sword’s side business in retirement. He is the person who can make you “West Virginia Pearls.”

The Process

Hand digging clay is labor intensive. In fact, Margocee says in her training to become a potter she learned how to process clay, in an effort to appreciate the medium.

“There will be a lot of organic matter in it, like twigs, rocks and burs,” Margocee says.

To break down the larger pieces of dry clay, Sword uses what looks like a very large mortar and pestle he hand made from a garage door spring, pipe and a few other things lying around. The contraption crushes chunky clay into fine sand.

Mel pours clay soil onto a window screen. He uses it to filter the soil into a five gallon bucket.

He then puts the pulverized chunks of clay through a screen, which filters out twigs and rocks as clay sand is poured into a bucket.

Sword says it takes him about four hours to fill one five-gallon bucket.

“I’m the kind of person who likes to do monotonous jobs, and this is very monotonous,” he says.

Later, he adds water until it created a thick, muddy substance using a drill attached to an old paint stirrer to mix the clay together.

Mel crushing the chunky, hard clay soil into a fine sand. He made this contraption out of things lying around his garage, including a garage door spring and some pipe.

After several days Sword removes any excess water that does not absorb using a turkey baster.

The clay then sits in a mold that absorbs any remaining moisture. And after that, Sword’s ready to work.

Turning The Clay Into Something

Sword uses the clay to make pots, bowls and mugs, shaped and molded with a foot pedal powered table — or a kick wheel. Although there are electric powered tables these days, that is not Sword’s style.

In his studio, the surface of the table spins around and around, much like a spool.

The hunk of red clay sits in the middle as Sword shapes it with his hands to make a mug.

He works year-round, and though he sells some of his work, he says it is not his objective. He says he just enjoys the process of it all.

Margocee suggests that every potter should try working with clay, like Sword, at least once. Although she admits that if one wants to sell pottery on a large scale, processing found clay is not the most efficient. However, it is still a part of our Appalachian history.

“There’s a romantic element to understanding it from beginning to end. And there’s extreme value in that,” Margocee says.

Sword hopes to invite students to his clay workshop, to show them his love for the process.

A mug Mel is making. He still uses a kick wheel, which is a traditional way to shape pottery.

And, if you want to try to find some West Virginia clay, Sword suggests keeping your eyes peeled after a rainstorm, especially on muddy backroads. Look for red spines in the banks of rivers and roads. Who knows, maybe you will even be able to try your hand at a West Virginia Pearl for someone you love.

This story is part of the Inside Appalachia Folkways Reporting Project. Subscribe to the podcast to hear more stories of Appalachian folklife, arts, and culture.

Reviving Small, Appalachian Towns with Local Assets

Walking down the streets of Greensboro, Pennsylvania, it feels a bit like a ghost town. There are houses, business signs, a post office, but only two cars drive by in 10 minutes and no one is walking the streets.

The small town in southern Pennsylvania is just across the West Virginia border. It sits on the banks of the Monongahela River, surrounded by small hills and patches of trees. In years past, the town has weathered the boom and bust of a pottery industry, river trade and coal. Lately, it has been more bust than boom.

But now, some artists are trying to stimulate the local economy using what they know best: creativity. They are all part of the Greensboro Art Cooperative – a non-profit art collective.

The Co-Op

Shane McManus, a West Virginia native, is the founder of the co-op. He’s spent his life immersed in music and arts. Now at 31 years old, McManus is trying to use his love of the arts to revive the town.

“Our goal is to preserve the past, but promote the future. Through using what the past has given us, we can create really beautiful art in our small Appalachian towns, which in my opinion is diminishing,” he says.

One of the buildings of the Greensboro Art Cooperative. This building features finished pottery, as well as a pottery room, bike room and wood-working room.

Three buildings on the main street of Greensboro make up the art co-op. The quiet atmosphere of the town abruptly changes when one walks into the former ice cream parlor turned ‘Music Shop,’ where McManus and his friends play music.

The entire room is filled with artwork and antiques. There’s a stone chair shaped like a hand, porcelain dolls lining the bookcases and a boar’s head hanging near the ceiling.

Live old-time Appalachian music fills the room. McManus and his friends Niko Kreider and Evan Collins are playing the tune called “Water Bound.”

McManus playing guitar in an impromptu jam. He is well-known in the region as a musician.

The co-op not only provides a space for artists to sell their work, but it’s also a space for artists to create. There is a woodshop, a bike shop, pottery room, music room, painting area – anything an artist wants to do there is likely a tool for it.

Members pay a $200 lifetime membership or the equivalent in labor, and profits from wares made at the co-op are split 50/50 with the artist.

McManus says the goal is for the co-op to be a centerpiece for Greensboro, where the population is down to 249 people. He wants the co-op to be a reason for people to come visit, and a reason for people to stay.

“Getting them to see hope, where there was none. That’s why people leave, to find greener pastures,” McManus says.

History of Greensboro

Greensboro was once a thriving town with a rich artisan history. It was originally settled by German glass blowers in the 1700s.

Evan Collins (left) playing music with Niko Kreider (right.) The ‘Music Shop’ was formerly an ice cream parlor.

It is also right on the Monongahela River, so it was part of a major river trading route.

Greensboro’s mayor Katie Sill says she’s heard stories of the early days when a hotel stood right by the river.

“At one point a circus came down the river and they had an elephant in the lobby. It was a booming and bustling town,” Sill says.

In the 1800s, the first large-scale pottery operation opened in Greensboro. The wet, muddy soil near the river creates rich clay — perfect for pottery.

“A lot of these New Geneva or Greensboro pots you see on Antiques Roadshow that go for $30,000 to $40,000 were made right here,” McManus says.

In fact, it is not rare to find 200-year-old pottery today. The co-op has preserved an original kiln used by settlers.

Finished pottery from members of the co-op. Profits from wares are split 50/50 with the artist and the co-op.

But, as artisans moved away and trade moved away from rivers, Greensboro became less relevant. It made a slight comeback in the coal industry in the mid-1900s, but Sill says that too has disappeared.

“Some buildings have fallen into disrepair or [have] been torn down,” Sill says. “There are not really many businesses left in the town.”

The Economics

In some ways, Greensboro is not that different than many small Appalachian towns, where the coal industry, which was once a driving economic force, is now declining.

This leaves many towns without a sustainable economy, much like Greensboro.

Tim Ezzell is a research scientist at the University of Tennessee, and he focuses on asset-based development, which, as he explains it, means “using the assets you have at hand or at your disposal, basically what your community already has in place. Your local talents, resources, skills, art, heritage and using those to create economic opportunities for people in your community.”

Ezzell says concepts like the co-op can grow a town, but it has to be done realistically. As in, it is not cheap, it can take many years, it needs momentum and, most importantly, the local community must be accepting of change.

“Change is hard and you have to be willing to accept change in order to move forward,” he says.

And Greensboro Mayor Katie Sill says the town is ready for that change.

“We’re all really hopeful that we’ll get that next wave of whatever that wave will be,” she says. “Something new to bring a little bit of bustle into the town. I don’t know if it’s ever going to be quite the same, but every phase is different.

Co-op merchandise for sale. On cold days McManus uses a space heater to keep rooms warm.

And the co-op is relying on local assets to try to bring about that next wave. Members are fixing up old store fronts to use as studios. They’re also using local clay to create art.

“Everything is donation, all of our resources have been found, donated, upcycled and recycled,” McManus says. “It’s really amazing what you can put together just with what you find around.”

As for operational costs, McManus says he’s been quite fortunate. His father, Keith McManus, has funded most of the co-op. A former mayor of the town, Keith is something of a musical legend in the region because of his involvement in the old-time music community over the years.

Looking Forward

People can be assets too, and in many ways Keith himself is one of the town’s greatest resources.

Because of the financial cushion, and Keith’s arts and music connections, McManus says there is not a push for co-op artists to mass produce and or even sell their work. Rather, they can focus on creating art.

A bust of Keith McManus in the former ice cream parlor. Keith has helped fund much of the co-op.

“Our goal is to stay within a tri-county, if not a tri-state area. We don’t want to branch out as far as what we sell on the internet. We’ve purposely held out to keep our wares locally,” McManus says.

During the past eight years the co-op has renovated Greensboro’s old, abandoned theatre into a studio space. And it has 65 members — some from the Appalachian region, and others from across the world. Many are people McManus has met through work in the music and arts industry.

McManus says the co-op has given some of these artists a reason to either stay, or come back to create in Appalachia.

“So many of my peers and friends have had to go and move out of the state, out of Appalachia where they are from just to find a studio,” he says.

So artists come and go throughout the year — whether it is for an impromptu jam, to fix their bicycle or to make their next piece of pottery. Sill says this is important for the town.

“They breathe that extra bit of life when they are there,” she says.

The next goal for the co-op is for artists to work and live in Greensboro, but right now it is not fully developed.

The studio spaces are a little rough around the edges, and the storefront is still more of a working space. McManus hopes to renovate two buildings into a coffee shop and restaurant, but he says it takes time.

It takes time to create change, to bring Greensboro’s artisan history forward into the modern day. And it also takes a vision, like the ability to find strengths and assets in unlikely places.

This story is part of an Inside Appalachia episode exploring folklife and material culture in Appalachia.

**A previous version of this story identified Tim Ezzel as a research scientist at the University of Kentucky. He is a research scientist at the University of Tennessee.

November 2, 1942: Ceramist Frederick Rhead Dies at 62

Ceramist Frederick Rhead died on November 2, 1942, at age 62. He learned the pottery trade in his native England before emigrating to the United States in 1902. Rhead’s pottery skills were honored with a gold medal at the 1915 San Diego Exposition.

Rhead was at the top of his profession in 1927, when he joined the Homer Laughlin Company at Newell in Hancock County. At the time, Homer Laughlin was the third largest producer of pottery or chinaware in the world. Rhead made pottery, taught, wrote, and created glazes and shapes.

But he and the Laughlin Company will be forever associated with a pattern he designed in 1936. Genuine Fiesta was a cheap, attractive dinnerware that included four colors and 54 individual items in a streamlined Art Deco style. After being discontinued in 1973, the original Fiesta became one of the most collected pottery designs in history. Homer Laughlin revived the Fiesta line in 1986.

Rhead created other Laughlin tableware designs, including the popular Virginia Rose and Harlequin, but nothing so successful as Fiesta. Frederick Rhead remained at Homer Laughlin for the rest of his career.