In fact the shop isn’t even part of Arrowmont school. To get to the school you have to take the road to the left of the shop up the hill. Do so and walk around the campus and you’ll see what everybody is so concerned about.
That’s what I did last week. At the invitation of Barbara Beville, former Arrowmont board member and longtime Gatlinburg businesswoman, I saw the campus on a walking tour led by the director of the school, David Willard. I saw the old red barn that once housed cows and horses and now is a dormitory for students. I saw the classrooms where adults, young and old, deep in thought and creativity, were creating something special. I saw people happy, away from cable television and Blackberrys, immersed in making something from nothing and being fulfilled as they do it.
The Arrowmont story isn’t a secret, but it’s not among the things you think of when you think of Gatlinburg and the Smokies. Arrowmont doesn’t promote itself much in tourist magazines. They are off the Parkway, hidden behind trees. Its students generally come here just for the school, not for the shopping and attractions. Its a nonprofit artistic operation, so its mainstream appeal may be limited.
But here’s the thing. There are at best three or four such schools across this great country, and none better than the one right here in our backyard. And it’s in trouble. Serious trouble. It took a crisis to get the attention it deserves.
The decision of Grand Council of Pi Beta Phi seven women who make monumental decisions for the fraternity of women to consider selling the land on which Arrowmont is located set off an angry response that has been heard from Maine to California, Montana to Florida. There are thousands and thousands of Pi Beta Phi Fraternity for Women members across the United States who oppose this action and are making their feelings known to Grand Council members and on the appropriately named Web site savearrowmont.org.
This is a difficult situation for several reasons. Pi Beta Phi started the settlement school in 1912 that evolved into the school of arts and crafts. It continues to provide 15 percent of Arrowmont’s annual budget, or some $300,000. You can criticize the decision to try to sell the land, but you can’t argue with the fraternity of women’s commitment and support of the school over the years.
Arrowmont also has very little impact on tourism here. The people who attend the school rarely venture into town or dine in restaurants. They come here to be full-time students for a week or two in some art form, whether metals or pottery or photography or other media. They live and eat on campus. There are local residents who take classes at Arrowmont, but tourism thrives on out-of-town guests.
So why hang on with the fierceness of a threatened mama bear to something that seemingly means so little to our pocketbooks? Because you can be passionate about more than Tennessee football or Dollywood or politics. Because, as author Raymond Chandler wrote, “In everything that can be called art there is a quality of redemption.” Because, as Proust said, “Only through art can we emerge from ourselves and know what another person sees.”
Because we can and should be more than tourist attractions and mountains.
The things that draw people to Sevier County are not universally beloved. But everybody who knows about Arrowmont and what it stands for, loves it and supports it. It’s a source of universal pride. Not everything we have on display is so endearing. Arts and crafts are so much a part of this community’s heritage and culture, and we have, right here, a school that is respected and admired around this country providing training and instruction and nourishing the very soul of those who attend.
Yes, Arrowmont could function somewhere else, if it could afford to relocate. But it’s already here, and we all should fight to keep it right where it is, even if that means fewer hotels and shops and condos and restaurants that might go in its place.
The opponents of this land sale are getting stronger and greater in number. The sale is not a sure thing. There apparently is no written contract or option to sell. The fight is worth winning and worth fighting.
Pi Beta Phi has a right to do what it wants to do with its property. On that all can agree. But there are some things more important than property rights and commercial development. Our history cannot be sold off to the highest bidder. We need Arrowmont now more than ever. And we need it right where it is.
Stan Voit is editor of The Mountain Press. His column appears each Sunday. He can be reached at 428-0748, ext. 217, or e-mail to svoit@themountainpress.com.
© 2008 by mountainpress.southernheadlines.com. All rights reserved.
