Guardians of the Lost Arts
Craftsman Preserve Time-honored Traditions
Jeff Fetzer
Penn LinesContributor
Some call them lost arts, a vague term used to describe traditional crafts and hands-on heritage skills that have largely fallen out of favor in an era dominated by mass production. But in kitchens and craft rooms, basements and outbuildings, man caves and she-sheds across the country, dedicated artisans and craftsmen continue to breathe life into the once-dying practices of yesteryear.
Time-honored traditions — from baking bread to blacksmithing, canning food to calligraphy, woodworking to weaving — are being revitalized by a new generation eager to explore their creative side, preserve the past, find financial reward or seek a degree of self-sufficiency.The photo essay that follows provides a glimpse into a sampling of trades and crafts of a bygone era and the Pennsylvanians who are keeping them alive.
CALLIGRAPHY — A stroke of fancy — STEPHANIE MUMMERT
Although she grew up near one of the nation’s most revered historic sites, the hallowed ground of the Gettysburg Battlefield, Stephanie Mummert’s lifelong pursuit of precision with pen and ink stems not from a desire to preserve the past but from her passion for painting and drawing as a child.
“Santa brought me a calligraphy pen for Christmas when I was 12 years old,” says the Adams Electric Cooperative member. “It came with an instruction sheet that showed you how to make the strokes, and I took that and ran with it.
“It’s the fanciness that drew me to it,” the self-taught calligrapher says, “and it was unique. Not many people were doing it.”
That has changed: “I do think traditional old-style calligraphy like I do is a lost art,” she says, “but in the last couple of years, I’ve been seeing TikTok videos of people doing fancy ‘new wave’ calligraphy, as I call it. I think calligraphy is making a comeback — just not the old style.”
Within her family and circle of friends, Mummert has been the go-to scribe for handwritten invitations for weddings and other occasions.
“It’s very relaxing,” she says. “The only thing I ever stress out about is, did I spell this right?”
STEPHANIE MUMMERT
RUSTY SHERRICK
BLACKSMITHING — 'It's really an art form' — RUSTY SHERRICK
Sometimes it takes a village to fan the embers of a fading art.
In Bradford County, that village is known as French Azilum. And one of the lost arts being rekindled there is blacksmithing.
The original Azilum settlement along the Susquehanna River near Wysox, where Claverack Rural Electric Cooperative (REC) is headquartered, was a short-lived village, built in 1793 as a refuge for exiles from the French Revolution. Today, 23 acres of the original settlement are home to the French Azilum Historic Site.
Always looking to add additional attractions to the grounds, Dr. Deborah Courville, the site’s treasurer and a Claverack REC member, spearheaded a project in 2018 to convert an 1830s-era carriage house on the property into a “pretend” blacksmith shop to display artifacts. As word spread, however, interest grew in establishing a working blacksmith shop instead.
Rusty Sherrick of Stevensville, a renowned custom leather holster maker, history buff and hobbyist blacksmith, along with Claverack REC members Dave Wells and Terry Fairchild, volunteered to install the forges and set up the workspace. On weekends, Sherrick, the site’s senior blacksmith, and a group of fellow practitioners conduct demonstrations, and every year, they host a one-day basic blacksmithing class.
“The blacksmith shop adds another dynamic to French Azilum — authenticity, if you will,” Sherrick says. “It intrigues people — the fire, the smell, and turning hot steel into something. It’s really an art form.”
CROCHETING — Finding solace with a needle and yarn — JENNA REFFNER
The popularity of the ancient needlework art known as crocheting unraveled during the 20th century, pushed aside by the prevalence of mass-produced clothing and textiles.
Thanks, however, to the rise of social media platforms like Instagram and Pinterest and the COVID-19 lockdown, crochet has reclaimed its cachet. And Jenna Reffner, a member and employee of Bedford REC, counts herself among the new generation that’s hooked on the hobby.
“I crochet almost every single day, even if it’s just for a half an hour,” she says. “It feels weird if I miss a day.”
Reffner’s decision to try her hand at crafting textiles began on a whim in 2015. After watching a few online videos and purchasing needles, yarn and several how-to books, she crocheted her first item, a scarf. Since then, she’s been hand-stitching blouses, tops and sweaters for herself, dolls and stuffed animals for nieces and nephews, and slippers, scarves and hats for her husband, Ken.
In recent years, she has become a go-to pattern tester for several online crochet clothing designers. Despite her prodigious output, Reffner has little interest in selling her works; she crochets mostly to relax.
“Crocheting gives me something to focus my mind on,” Reffner says. “I am one of those people who can’t sit still, and I tend to be a bit of an anxious person. Crocheting is a great outlet for that type of thing.”
JENNA REFFNER
KIRT CASLIN
COBBLING — Saving ‘soles’ for decades — KIRT CASLIN
Cobbler Kirt Caslin likes to say he’s been “saving soles and performing heelings daily” for the past 38 years. But he has little faith in the future of the footwear repair trade.
“It’s a dying art,” says Caslin, a member of Mansfield-based Tri-County Rural Electric Cooperative. “There is just nobody doing it.”
He and his wife, Jennifer, own and operate Armenia Mountain Footwear in Troy, Bradford County. The store has provided shoe repair services for more than 50 years.
When Jennifer’s father, Jack Kyper, purchased the business in 1972, there were cobblers in just about every town. “Now, I’m probably the only full-time cobbler in a 50-mile radius,” Caslin says, adding that his father-in-law continues to cobble a day or two a week since “retiring” in 2001.
Because so few cobblers remain, especially in rural areas, the store attracts customers from as far as two hours away, and Caslin generally has a backlog of two to three weeks for repairs.
“I’ve always enjoyed getting an old beater and bringing it back to life,” he says. “I do it for the sense of accomplishment. It’s fun and rewarding to revive a shoe for someone who really appreciates the finished product after getting it back.”
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