record details.
interview date(s). | July 23, 2024 |
interviewer(s). | Galen Koch |
affiliation(s). | Haystack Mountain School of Crafts |
project(s). | Haystack Mountain School of Crafts Archive |
transcriber(s). | Galen Koch |

Since 2022, Haystack Mountain School of Crafts, an international craft school located in Deer Isle, Maine, has partnered with Maine Sound + Story to conduct interviews with individuals connected to the School—including those with both longtime and more recent relationships with Haystack, and whose participation with the School ranges from former and current faculty, program participants, trustees, and staff. Their voices and recollections help tell the story of Haystack.
This project is in partnership between Haystack Mountain School of Crafts and Maine Sound + Story, and was generously funded in part by Lissa Hunter, Anne Powers, and Claire Sanford, with grant support from the Onion Foundation and additional operating support from Haystack Mountain School of Crafts and the Windgate Foundation.
Galen Koch: [00:00:00] Let me just make sure. Great. Perfect. Do you have any questions before we start?
Chris Staley: [00:00:12] Not really, other than how did you get involved in this? I just heard briefly when I was up at Haystack during the residency that you were doing this, but I’m just curious – a little bit of background.
GK: [00:00:25] Yeah. So, I’m a radio producer and an oral historian. I’ve been doing oral history archive interviews for about ten years. I do a lot of different projects for different organizations. But then, I also grew up on Deer Isle, so I have a Haystack connection. My dad worked there for thirty years as the facilities manager. Well, first, he worked under Fred Woell. Gene Koch. He worked there for a long time. I kind of grew up going to Haystack, so it was a natural fit with what I do professionally. Then, they wanted to start building this archive, so it just made sense.
CS: [00:01:15] Yeah. I remember your father.
GK: [00:01:17] Yeah. [laughter] He’s great. He’s retired now, so he’s doing well.
CS: [00:01:24] Good.
GK: [00:01:24] So I have a bunch of questions, and we’ll just sort of take it where your stories lead us if that sounds good.
CS: [00:01:38] That sounds good.
GK: [00:01:39] Okay. When you’re talking, I might mute myself just so none of my background noise gets into the recording. So, if it’s quiet, that’s why. But first, Chris, can you just introduce yourself – who you are and where you live?
CS: [00:01:58] Yeah. My name is Chris Staley, and I’ve been a ceramic artist most of my life and have taught most of my life. Most of my teaching took place at Penn State, where I taught for thirty-two years. I have had a long-term relationship with Haystack. The first time I taught there was in the summer of 1990, and then I had the good fortune of teaching there several times. Then, I also served on the board of directors for Haystack for nine years and had the good fortune of recently being an artist in residence at the two-week residency program this past May and June of 2024.
GK: [00:02:56] Great. Do you remember what first brought you to Haystack, how you first heard about it, or what was the impetus for going there for the first time?
CS: [00:03:11] Yeah. I think, honestly, the first time I started hearing about it was when I was a graduate student at Alfred University. That was in 1978 to ’80. Robert Turner, who I had the good fortune of having as a teacher my first year of grad school, and Wayne Higby, I think, talked about Haystack then. My first job out of grad school was actually at the Rhode Island School of Design, where I was a part-time teacher and technician there from 1980 to ’85. I certainly heard about Haystack then and just heard word of mouth, quite honestly, and people saying what a magical place it was and what a great experience they had there. I think having been born in Boston and having that New England ethos in my blood; I just felt this calling of always wanting to go up to Haystack. But it wasn’t until, I think, 1985 [that] I drove up there just to visit and walk around. That’s sort of my introduction to Haystack.
GK: [00:04:41] Do you remember any of your first impressions when you went there that first time just to visit?
CS: [00:04:51] That’s a great question. When you hear about all these things, and then there are all these expectations – so, I remember driving and it taking a long time to get out there. I remember going over bridges, and the bridges seemed like I was going to some distant place. Then, I think my first impression, in essence, walking through Gateway and then to the offices, and then finally up to the top, where the offices are and the dining hall and looking out, it just seemed like this strange space that you are being invited into by the architecture, but at the same time, just in a state of awe. It’s one of the few places I’ve been that creates a state of awe. I guess that sense of awe is that it’s hard to sort of articulate. There’s something sublime about the beauty of the place. That’s really not even having met anybody. It’s just the physical integration of the architecture and nature.
GK: [00:06:32] Yeah. How did you end up as a faculty member? What was the process for that? You said 1990 was the first time you taught a session.
CS: [00:06:43] Yeah. Good memory. Yeah. I think I, in all candor, had expressed some interest to Wayne Higby. At that point, I just left a job at Wichita State University in Kansas. For one year, I was an artist in residence at Archie Bray. I got a phone call out of the blue from Stu Kestenbaum, and I believe that was his first or second year, maybe first summer. He asked me if I’d like to come and teach the fall of 1990. I was incredibly happy to get that phone call.
GK: [00:07:34] What was that first session like for you? Do you remember anything specific about the experience?
CS: [00:07:44] Yeah. I have to be candid. One of the things I remember is that my wife, my girlfriend or fiancé at the time, I had spoken so highly of Haystack that I asked her if she wanted to be in the workshop. So my wife, Kate, who’s still my wife, was in that workshop. She learned how to throw and how to make pots. I think she gained a real appreciation for ceramics and was certainly thrilled and had a great time there. Also, a potter, Nick Joerling, was in that workshop, and Nick has gone on to have a real career and, I think, eventually taught at Haystack. He’s been very much involved with the Penland School of Crafts, where his studio is down there. Then, some years later, I was asked to come back to Haystack and teach. By that time, I had two daughters that were basically four and six. At the time, Haystack said I could bring them, but they had to sleep in the cabin where Kate and I were. So, we just brought sleeping bags, and they slept on the floor of their little cabins. They actually got to know Kim Stafford, who’s a poet. Kim had his son and the three young children hung out together and created their own little gallery of found objects on the deck near the kitchen. Tori and Rowan have just the fondest memories of those childhood experiences at Haystack.
GK: [00:10:00] Yeah, it’s a pretty magical place to be as a little kid. As an adult, too. [laughter]
CS: [00:10:05] Yeah.
GK: [00:10:08] You went a number of times. Were you a participant ever in a class?
CS: [00:10:17] Good question. I got really engaged in the programming at Haystack when I was on the board of directors, and once or twice, I was asked to participate in a conference. Then, sometimes I just went as a presenter occasionally, and then I was a participant just to sign up. I went, and so there were other people there that were sort of teaching. I’m trying to recall the woman – I’m drawing a blank – that was the president of RISD [Rhode Island School of Design] that was also on the board.
GK: [00:11:13] Rosanne Somerson.
CS: [00:11:15] Yeah. Thank you. Rosanne. I always learned a lot when I was at Haystack. Rosanne taught a little session on drawing and ideas, and she came up with this exercise of doing sixty drawings in sixty minutes. I was so amazed. By the time you get to drawing fifty-two, you really don’t care what you’re doing at all. It’s a great way to lose your self-consciousness or being self-conscious and just seeing what you do. It’s almost like returning to being a child again. There were numerous experiences where I felt like I was a student at Haystack, learning from other teachers. And then, quite frankly, I’ve used that drawing – I’ve reduced it to forty drawings in forty minutes, and I’ve been doing that exercise for the last, at least, twenty years with students. I just was teaching out at Anderson Ranch in Snowmass Village in Colorado. We all did that exercise – forty drawings in forty minutes. I got that from my experience at Haystack. Once, I was at another thing, and we have these hands – the hands and the heart. Judy Burton from Columbia University who was on the board of directors, and she asked us all to look in our hands and think of something meaningful that our hands have done. Then, she asked us if we would share that meaningful thing with a person next to us. I remember being in the Gateway Auditorium, and everyone looked at their hands, and then we turned to the person next to us and shared. The room just exploded in this sense of discussion. Quite honestly, I retired a couple of years ago from Penn State, but I started teaching in a jail, and I would do the same thing; I would ask the incarcerated students to look at their hands and think of something meaningful their hands have done. They all found that really touching and brought them together as a group. I first learned that or was asked to do that at Haystack.
GK: [00:13:56] Wow, those are wonderful exercises. Those were happening within the context of the board, it sounds like.
CS: [00:14:07] Is it Galen? Is that how you pronounce it?
GK: [00:14:11] Yeah.
CS: [00:14:11] Galen, in one form or another, yes. I mean, it would be happening at a conference or something where I was participating. As a teacher, I’m always on the lookout for – I want to be a better teacher. If I see someone else, or I’m a student in another situation, and I observe a teacher doing something, I immediately think in my mind, “Boy, I want to bring that to the classroom.” So, there were a number of takeaways. I think having – Stu Kestenbaum being a poet increased my interest in poetry. Then I met Kim Stafford there, who is the son of William Stafford. Kim and I ended up teaching together at the Archie Bray Foundation out in Montana.
GK: [00:15:10] Can you tell me how you came to be on the board? Did someone ask you, or did you inquire? What was that process like?
CS: [00:15:25] Yeah, I was honestly just simply asked. I was pleasantly surprised. I can’t remember who asked me, but somebody called me up and asked me if I’d be interested in being on the board. I don’t think I thought about it very long. I think I just said, “Yes.”
GK: [00:15:52] What year was that?
CS: [00:15:56] Oh, boy.
GK: [00:15:58] Digging into the memory bank here. [laughter]
CS: [00:16:01] Yeah, I want to say maybe 2006 to 2015.
GK: [00:16:23] Do you have memories of either –? I mean, you’ve shared some wonderful memories about that time. But also, I’m curious about what sort of focus the board had at that time, or what shifts were maybe happening at the school that felt important or achievements that happened while you served.
CS: [00:16:56] In terms of changes, Stu Kestenbaum was instrumental in making the Fab Lab come into place and also very instrumental in securing funds to have the residency take place, the two-week residency, which I took part in just recently for the very first time. Honestly, Galen, there seemed to be a transition from – I guess there always is a transition, but from [inaudible] founding people of Haystack to just the beginning of a newer generation. In my last year on the board, I nominated Roberto Lugo, who was a former student of mine, to be on the board. I think Alleghany Meadows might have been on the board. These are all ceramic people. So there seemed to be – and I think Jack Lenor Larsen came to a few board meetings. I think at the very first board meeting, I was there, Wayne Higby was there. So there just seemed to be this transition, this generational thing from some of the early people at Haystack. I’m just finishing a book now. I’m putting together the pictures that are going to be in the book, and the book’s about everything I ever learned about teaching. There’s going to be a picture of probably Robert Turner in the book. He was certainly one of the most influential mentors I had in my life. He was involved at Haystack in some of the earlier years. I don’t know. A powerful story for me is I stayed in touch off and on with Bob Turner. Somebody in his family called me and said, “Bob’s in hospice right now. If you want to see him before he passes away, I suggest you make a visit down to Sandy Springs, Maryland.” So, I drove down and went to the assisted care unit there in Sandy Springs, and I sat with Bob for a couple of hours, and he was still very lucid. I thanked him for everything he had taught me. True to Robert Turner form, he said, “Oh, it wasn’t much.” He was a very humble man. I had a wonderful visit. I knew it would be the last time I’d ever see him. And then, maybe four or five weeks later, I was teaching at Haystack. It was a beautiful day in July, and I was in the ceramics studio, and Stu Kestenbaum walked into the studio and up to the wheel where I was working, and he said, “Chris, I just thought you’d want to know. I just heard that Robert Turner passed away.” There is always something very poignant for me that I heard that news in the ceramics studio there. When people leave Haystack, we drive away from that place and we drive across the bridge and so forth, but we take all the memories with us. And those memories stay with us sometimes for our lifetime.
GK: [00:21:19] Yeah.
CS: [00:21:20] That’s a long-winded answer.
GK: [00:21:22] No. That’s wonderful. Thinking about those memories, too, are there other memories that stand out to you from your time as a faculty member?
CS: [00:21:49] Yeah. Again, how to make people’s time really worthwhile. One of the powerful things about nonprofit organizations like Haystack, Penland, or Anderson Ranch is that there are no grades. There’s sort of a purity of purpose. People want to come and just learn. I remember just having someone who was either in college or was just twenty-one. Then I remember having – I can’t remember her name now, but a woman that was in her early eighties. The range and different backgrounds of people that would come together in a class. Yeah, the place itself tends to bring out the best in people. Honestly, I think maybe because it is an island and the whole architecture’s sort of suspended in the trees, there’s a sense of safeness there. A sense of security. People are most likely to be vulnerable when they feel safe. I think people feel safe at Haystack.
GK: [00:23:23] Yeah. You talked about the range of students, too. Did you teach classes? It sounds like you taught some classes that were all levels. Your wife was a beginner in a throwing class. Can you speak to maybe how that’s different –? You’ve been in academic institutions, so Haystack sits in a different kind of realm. But how do those organizations like Haystack –? How does an organization like that speak to the academic institution, or how do they build on one another, in your opinion?
CS: [00:24:07] Yeah. You know when, Galen, you have a brief, succinct conversation with someone, and it stays with you your whole life. I was at a board meeting, and I was coming out of the bathroom, opened the door, and Jack Lenor Larsen just said to me, “What do you think is the most prominent or influential art school in the 20th century in the United States?” And I said, “I don’t know.” He said, “Well, without question, it was the Black Mountain College down in North Carolina.” His comment really got me interested in the Black Mountain College. Ideally, at least when you’re teaching at Haystack or places like that, there’s no hierarchy per se. There’s no grades. I always am very sensitive to people’s spending money and taking their time to go to a place like that. Then, you’re sharing meals with all these people in the class, so you get to know people very quickly. And they’re there for a reason. They really want to grow both as artists and makers and learn things and so forth. I think it’s a really concentrated period of time that people – because they feel in a safe community – learn a lot more about themselves faster and quicker than – the academic situation is sort of a whole other animal, and it seems very – it’s fragmented in different ways. It’s hierarchical. It’s competitive. People are getting grades. There’s a lot more anxiety in academia. I think Haystack tries to do everything it can to diminish that sense of anxiety. Without question, the biggest inhibitor to creativity is fear. That’s one of the big problems in schools and academic settings is there’s usually is a high degree of anxiety and fear. That is a lot less so at a place like Haystack.
GK: [00:26:50] Do you have examples or thoughts about how your time teaching has impacted your own work? Also, you just did this residency, so I want to make sure we touch on that because that obviously would have a big impact. But I think starting with just being in session, being a faculty member, being a participant on the board, and if that had an impact on your own studio practice.
CS: [00:27:26] Yes, very much so. To be honest, you’re encouraging your students to be creative and encouraging them to take risks. Even at this residency, somebody said, “Oh, you should hand-build because you normally throw, and you should take some chances.” The first couple of days there, I was really struggling. I was hand building, and then I thought, “Okay, I’ll do the forty drawings in forty minutes and see what comes out of that.” And then I was on the phone with my wife, and she said, “Oh, you should just go back to throwing; that always makes you happy.” So, I was doing all these different things and really trying to put myself in a situation of just trying things. So, as a teacher, when you’re encouraging your students to do these things, then you have to practice what you preach and do it yourself. So, that was a good exercise for me at the residency program because I felt very much like a student there.
GK: [00:28:34] Yeah. Can you describe the structure of the residency and what you were doing day in and day out?
CS: [00:28:42] Yeah. The beauty of it is there’s really no structure. It’s just people would float into different studios. There was a lot of walking wherever. I was sort of amazed, Galen, by the spontaneous discussions that would take place with people. You quickly realized how talented people were and how they were doing their own thing. When I had the opportunity to speak with Perry Price and some of the other staff people, I said, “What really feels powerful here is this sense of curiosity.” People were very curious about what each other was doing. How’s it going, or what are you doing? So there was a high degree of curiosity of other. And then, people were very much willing to be vulnerable over a period of time because I think that people were interested and they would share their doubts and fears, and that made them even feel more secure. Yeah, that sense of vulnerability and curiosity just created a safe environment and a lot of sense of humor, too. A lot of people were willing to laugh.
GK: [00:30:07] Has Haystack changed in the time that you’ve been coming, either the accommodations or food or the place itself, or the people who are there? Any ways that you can think of change over time?
CS: [00:30:31] Answering that candidly, I would say yes and no, no and yes. The place is relatively the same. There’s been a huge sense of respect for Ed Larrabee Barnes’ structure that he designed and is a work of art and so highly regarded around the world. I think there’s a healthy reverence for that and trying to preserve that. Your father was one of those people that did an amazing job in that sense of preservation. I don’t know how heavy you want to get in this conversation, but –
GK: [00:31:19] You can go there if you want to go there. Yeah. [laughter]
CS: [00:31:23] I’m reminded that this is recorded.
GK: [00:31:26] Yes. If you don’t want it to be on the record, don’t say it. But you can also – just so you know, we send transcripts back to you, so if there’s anything you don’t want included after the fact – totally fine.
CS: [00:31:42] Yeah. No, I don’t think I – I was just half joking in jest. But people make a place and people’s personalities, and just the way classes often take on the sort of persona or the energy or the ethos of a teacher. I don’t know. There was always a degree of passing of the torch. I think my time being on the board at Haystack – it’s amazing to have been on the board with Marlin Miller. His generosity and wisdom were just remarkable. And Julia Galloway and her passion for ceramics and education and having the pleasure to be on the board when she was on the board. I think our society is changing. Look at the world of politics and look at what’s happened this weekend with President Biden stepping down and not running for a second term. There’s just a lot of change, and some of it’s good. And some of it is questionable. Social media and the power of Instagram and what that’s done to the arts – it’s mixed. It’s very positive, but all of us can spend a crazy amount of time on social media. So, I think that touchstone of the soul of a place and what that soul of the place is – and it seems like Haystack’s about nurturing people to be better artists and how everyone can nurture itself. Haystack has had some amazing leaders. I came on when Stu Kestenbaum was the director, and then I was on the selection committee when Paul Sacaridiz was hired. Now, the new director, Perry Price. They all bring different visions and energy to the organization, as do the faculty, the staff, and the board members. I guess I’d close by saying that as the years went by, more and more I appreciated what the staff did and continue to do. It is an amazing amount of work, and they have done it with real altruism in terms of trying to be there for other people and, in the back of their minds or in their hearts, knowing all these people are going to be coming to visit Haystack. How can we make their experience as wonderful as they aspire it to be? The staff has been always there trying to make that happen.
GK: [00:35:34] Yeah, that leads into my next question, which is a little bit more broad, but just what do you think people take away from their time at Haystack? So, you already said they leave with the memories, which is a wonderful sentiment. What do you think people leave with in general?
CS: [00:36:02] I don’t know who told me this or if I heard it directly from Robert Turner, but Bob said. “Why can’t the rest of the world be like Haystack?” I think when you leave there, I always have a greater sense of hope. Like I said earlier, it brings out the best in people, the place, and the experience there. I always feel less alone after having spent time at Haystack. I feel like I belong to a sense of community that is very nurturing just for having spent time there. So, I come away just feeling hopeful.
GK: [00:37:02] Is that community to you about making and craft or is it something more, just about humanity?
CS: [00:37:16] It’s a good question, Galen. I think the hands and the heart are really connected. Our hands reach out into the world. We hug loved ones with our hands and arms, and when we make something with our hands, it’s like we’re shaping our own thoughts and feelings with our hands. That making at Haystack is almost like sitting around a fire, and Haystack is the fire. Haystack generates the warmth for people to interact with each other in this really nurturing and, dare I say, loving way. I think there’s something about the shoreline there. When you go down to the rocks, it’s like you’re going to church or something. You’re going to this sacred place. There’s that phrase; it’s a touchstone. That came from seeing how hard metal was on a certain type of stone; it was a touchstone. Haystack has that whole bouldery coast, and people go down there. That coast makes people see beyond themselves. They see their best possibility of what might be in themselves, a more loving person. I mean, Richard Powers said that we’re all suspended between love and ego. Ego is often about fear, fear of just surviving, and self-importance. Fear often brings out the worst in us. Haystack tends to foster a sense of trust and reverence for others.
GK: [00:39:46] Yeah, I think a lot of the interviews that I’ve done, people really relate – even if they are not necessarily spiritual people – relate to the landscape as a sacred or spiritual kind of experience. Do you have memories or thoughts about the experience of being there with folks who work in other mediums and how that influenced your work or influenced students that you saw? You have all these different workshops all happening at once. You’ve mentioned poetry, but I wonder if there are other examples or stories about that kind of co-mingling of different practices.
CS: [00:40:44] Well, probably to my detriment, I tend to be a creature of habit and somewhat myopic. I just, unfortunately, hang out in the ceramics studio too much. But I do remember once doing a drawing workshop down in the paper area, and someone suggested we go outside and draw shadows. So, just any shadows that were anywhere, we could just draw those. So, there’s always something; if you just peek in a studio, or even when they give presentations in Gateway in the evening, there’s usually somebody from another discipline [who] says something that is compelling or relates to what’s happening in one’s own studio. Each studio generates its own vibes, but they definitely overlap and create a vibe of the whole place.
GK: [00:42:05] How do you view –? You touched on this, but asking specifically, how do you see haystacks positioned in the broader craft movement?
CS: [00:42:19] That’s a great question, Galen. It’s a question the board of directors should be asking themselves now. There’s always this – with the crafts, it’s often very technique – can be very technique-oriented. You can almost always fill a workshop if it’s based on firing, or “We’re going to make teapot handles,” or something. I recently taught a workshop titled “Cups, Stories, and Empathy.” I was really curious about art’s potential to create empathy. I think we live in a world that’s really challenging with climate change, loneliness, and mental health issues. I think the arts could play a more leading role in the human condition and how to survive, learn how to get along, and ask big questions. How do you define success? Or what do you really value? How can you be a better friend? How can art help us be a better person? Even this idea of empathy, I’ve come to realize, is about intentionality. How much do you want to be a compassionate person? And then how does that actually come to pass? So, I think that arts and Haystack could play a more leading role in – I don’t know – just the human spirit or how we can grow and broaden our views of how we see the world or interact with the world. Everyone has always said this – John Dewey, the great educator, said, “It’s about experiential learning.” So, how do you teach a ceramics class that’s about experiential learning? It’s as much about learning what to do with one’s hands as it is how we engage with the world at large, I guess. I don’t know. That was a bit of a ramble. I don’t know if it made any sense. I think this idea of spirituality has some negative connotations for people, but it’s really about – spirit means to breathe – how we engage in the world and how we interact with each other. I think that in some way, shape, or form, the arts could be doing a better job than it is.
GK: [00:45:49] Yeah, I think that it’s touching on the aspects of an institution like that, not only being about being in the workshop, but also being about being around a community of people. So, you’re really gathered in a way, and like you said, they’re also people who are not applying for a graduate program. They’re coming from all different walks of life, so that has its own unique place within institutions and schools and all of that sort of area of learning. I wonder. How would you describe Haystack to someone who hasn’t been there? What would you say if you were telling someone about Haystack? What is important to communicate about it?
CS: [00:46:58] It’s interesting. I think a lot of it’s just sort of a corporeal reaction. When I’m asked about Haystack, there’s a pause. And then I just say, “It’s the most magical place in the world.” There’s a lot of reasons, but part of it is that people break bread together, they eat those meals together, and the food’s always been of high quality. You know that you can sit down with somebody. It brings people together, and you have conversations that are totally unexpected. There’s a huge overflow of that energy that takes place in the dining hall that’s brought back to the studio. Those connections are made. It’s almost like you’re getting a pep talk or something every meal you go to. You’re getting both nutrition, physically and intellectually, and in every other way. In ceramics, they have this phrase eutectic, where in glazing all the right fluxes and colors, it’s just the right mix. There’s a magical eutectic that Haystack has, where it’s the place, it’s the buildings, it’s the staff, it’s the dining together, it’s the quality of people that go there, it’s the instructors. Everything is better because of the mix of all of that.
GK: [00:48:53] Yeah. I keep thinking – in terms of change, social media, technology, and all of the forces that have changed that don’t have anything to do with Haystack but have changed all around us anyway. I don’t usually ask a question like this, but since you mentioned it, how do some of those shifts in the culture –? Have you seen that play out at Haystack? How does Haystack fit in? I don’t know. When I think of Haystack, I don’t picture a bunch of people staring at their phones. Right? You have a separation from that. But I wonder – you’ve been around the campus as an adult for a long time and how you’ve seen that shift in technology as part of the institution.
CS: [00:49:59] Yeah. Candidly, I think it’s been eight years since I was at Haystack, so there’s a big gap there. I think the last time I was there was when I was part of the interview committee interviewing Paul Sacaridiz before he came on, and that was it. I hadn’t been back for eight years. So, a lot’s happened. Of course, social media and the cell phone was around before eight years ago. I forget. I’m losing track of time. It’s been twenty years now. Yeah, without question, there’s more isolation now, more loneliness, more mental health issues. People are just struggling with the uncertainty of so many things. You get this sense of – when people come to Haystack, they’re leaving the rest of the world behind. I notice more frequently people are looking in their iPhones now than they were, and more people use them to take pictures and all the rest. I think because of the intimacy of the boardwalks there, you’re always walking and running into people, that it really sort of forces you to interact. In many ways, we’ve lost our people skills and the experience there. I mean, it was wonderful. At this residency program, I had a roommate I never knew before, and he was just sleeping four feet away from me. We had to get to know each other and sort of navigate how we were living in this room together. It throws people together in this idyllic place, and it forces us to learn how to communicate again. The world we live in – the internet is so seductive and addicting. Part of its addiction is we want to feel connected. We want to see if we’re getting any messages. We want to see if anyone’s looking at anything we’re posting on Instagram. It’s this craving for connection that draws us to our phones. And yet that connection is created at Haystack, so you don’t feel that craving anymore because it’s happening. It’s a reminder of what was. And I don’t want to romanticize the past. The past has had a lot of problems in terms of hierarchy and so forth, of not the diversity that is so important to have in the world. I don’t think we were as conscious of that twenty-five years ago as we are now. That’s been a blessing to realize the importance of that diversity because it’s representative of all of us on this planet. Yeah. So, I think, again, that Haystack is a juxtaposition of what might be and how we could exist in the world at large. So, I think in that score, it’s not only a place to make beautiful objects and things, but it’s an experiment in human behavior in terms of the possibility of what might be.
GK: [00:54:10] Yeah. It’s amazing, too, to think about. Doing this archival work, I’ve talked to people who were there at the very beginning, in the ’60s. It’s changed, but it’s the same response to cultural shifts. I mean, there’s a similar need to come together and experience something together and not escape but to experience something that’s different from what’s happening in the greater culture. It seems like the goalposts move with the culture at large, maybe.
CS: [00:54:59] Yeah. I think one of the things – people have talked about different periods in the past – the cultural revolution of the ’60s and so forth – but there’s something systemic that’s fundamentally different this time. The fact that I read these crazy proclamations that people spend seven hours looking into a screen, or more a day, and umpteen number of times that people text message. That screen that’s available in our pockets has really changed how we live in really significant ways. And then the climate change thing seems to be a real reality. My wife is working with teenagers and the anxiety that climate change is causing them. So, there’s some big systems that are needing to be dealt with in some way. The upcoming presidential election. This country is so divided. Some people don’t talk to other people or you certainly don’t talk politics with other people. What’s the art of a conversation? Does making things with our hands necessarily make us a better listener? Does making things with our hands necessarily make us more curious about other? Probably the biggest compliment you can pay to somebody is simply ask them what they think. It’s not lost on me what you’re doing. Galen, you’re asking people what they think, and that is significant in its own right that you’re curious about other people’s thoughts, and you want to honor them in some way. There’s something of great value to that. Although there’s such an abundance of information, I think people are numbed by the amount of information they take in. Every time you turn around, someone’s saying, “Listen to this podcast or listen to this.” So, it can get overwhelming. I think that’s when you go down to the rocks at Haystack, down to the shoreline there. There’s a sense of – sarcastically – come to Jesus moment or something. There’s just something. You look out at that horizon, and you realize, again, this possibility and how big the world is. It can make us feel pretty small in the larger scheme of things, but also realize that because of the intimacy that we experience at Haystack, the power of that intimacy, the power of someone just simply saying, “Oh, that looks really nice,” or “How did you do that?” Those little acts of kindness can have very big implications in somebody’s life.
GK: [00:58:46] Yes, I think you’re touching on the balance of perspective, maybe from having your world be about the thing that you’re making, and then you go, and you can actually experience something that’s – how does it sit within this landscape? How does it sit within this horizon line? How does it sit –? Yeah. You’re here, and then you’re also there, which a lot of times now we’re just kind of right in front of our faces on our screens, or even in the studio.
CS: [00:59:25] Yeah, that’s really well said on your part. So, it’s that sense of relationship – relationship to that horizon line or relationship to something our hands are making or that relationship to the screen. It seems like the relationship to the horizon line or to something our hands make is that we engage or become one, or it’s like a joining to create something larger. Whereas, when you look into a screen, there’s a form of escape and sort of losing ourselves in something that’s somewhat thoughtless.
GK: [01:00:19] Well, I’m aware we’re reaching an hour mark in our conversation, but I’m curious if there are any memories or stories that are coming up for you as we’ve been talking that you wanted to share or thoughts that you had that have bubbled up while we’ve been talking.
CS: [01:00:43] Well, I’m in the final stages of selecting some photographs for this book. I woke up really early this morning. For a few years, they used to have a weekend where they would invite colleges to bring students in the fall up to Haystack. It’s a long drive. It’s about a twelve or thirteen-hour drive from Penn State to Haystack. But I did that drive once with a group of Penn State students. We drove the Penn State van up there with, I don’t know how many students, maybe ten or something. They just had this amazing time together and then an amazing time at Haystack. You could tell it was something that they were never, ever going to forget. It was one of the most special times in their life. So, that’s what came to mind. Then, there was one particular young man named Taylor Watkins that was on that trip. He was a young student undergrad. It’s a tragic story. Three years later, he died at a very young age of cancer. He spoke about that trip to Haystack and how much that meant to him. I’m just so glad he was able to experience that.
GK: [01:02:41] Did you have students who hadn’t been to a landscape like that or hadn’t been to Maine?
CS: [01:02:54] Galen, that’s a really good question because we can take things for granted assuming we are all well traveled, and we’ve been to all different places, but for some students – most people have been landlocked. Pennsylvania is landlocked. So, you get to that place, and it feels like Haystack is the promised land or something. When you first look at that ocean and that horizon line; it’s telling you it’s not just that horizon line you’re looking at, but that horizon line is what’s in one’s imagination and how that horizon line affects the imagination and what might be! You never know what is going to come up on that horizon line. I think that physical space or having been there is profoundly transformative for people.
GK: [01:04:21] Yeah. That’s wonderful. It’s possibility or something. Well, thank you, Chris; I know there are probably a lot of other stories that you have. But I do want to be respectful of the timing and going about your day, getting your photographs selected, and finishing your book. But I really appreciate hearing all of your perspectives on Haystack and hearing some of the memories and stories. So, thank you so much.
CS: [01:04:56] Well, thank you, Galen, for asking such good questions and really listening. It makes me want to hear your interviews that you’ve done with other people.
GK: [01:05:12] Some of them are great. You mentioned Rosanne, and we had a wonderful conversation just a few weeks back; Roseanne told lots of different stories about her time. Some of them have just been really, really great. I think it’s important to get these. Just have the memories recorded somewhere so that they’re just living. Living on. I think it’s really good.
CS: [01:05:45] Yes, I think that it’s really true. It’s funny. The older I’ve gotten, the more interested I am. Things change when you get older. You realize that you’re not going to be around forever. There’s a sense of curiosity, of putting things in perspective or trying to find meaning in things. It meant a lot to me when I heard Paulus Berensohn say the very first time he met M.C. Richards was in the dining hall at Haystack. That was the very first time they saw each other, and they ended up having a lifelong friendship. M.C. Richards wrote her famous book Centering – most of that book was written in that faculty space down on faculty row, and she wrote it in that room. This is certainly way before computers. She was a profound thinker and writer. This took place at Haystack. These people were brought together there. Then, years later, I became a friend of Paulus and would visit him from time to time. He did talk about Haystack as a magical place of happening, possibility, or beginnings.
GK: [01:07:26] Yeah. That’s wonderful.
CS: [01:07:28] So, keep up the great work.
GK: [01:07:30] Lives on. Yeah, well, you too. Thank you very much. We will be in touch with the transcript so that you can look it over. If there’s any corrections that need to be made or anything, you’re welcome to do so. So, we’ll be in touch with that. I look forward to your book being out in the world.
CS: [01:07:51] Yeah. Me too.
GK: [01:07:52] Yeah, that’ll be great. Well, thanks, Chris, I appreciate it.
CS: [01:07:57] You bet, Galen. Take care. Have a good day.
GK: [01:08:00] You too. Bye.
CS: [01:08:01] Bye-bye.
On July 23, 2024, Galen Koch interviewed Chris Staley in Deer Isle, Maine, for the Haystack Mountain School of Crafts Archive. Staley is a ceramic artist and educator who taught for over three decades at Penn State. His connection to Haystack dates to 1990 when he first taught a ceramics course. Over the years, he has served as a faculty member, a board member for nine years, and an artist-in-residence. Staley discusses his early influences, including studying at Alfred University and working at the Rhode Island School of Design, as well as his experiences teaching and participating in the craft school community.
In the interview, Staley reflects on his time at Haystack, emphasizing its role in fostering creativity and community. He describes the school’s impact on his teaching philosophy, the evolution of its programming, and his involvement in its governance. He shares memories of influential mentors, collaborations with artists and poets, and the inspiration drawn from Haystack’s natural setting. He discusses broader topics such as the intersection of craft and education, the importance of experiential learning, and the changing landscape of artistic practice in the digital age. Staley also recalls his participation in Haystack’s residency program and how the environment continues to shape his work. The conversation touches on themes of creativity, mentorship, craft education, and the role of art in building empathy and connection.