This article was originally published in the Crosshatch Center for Art & Ecology’s bi-weekly newsletter, The Whole Field.

The word “folk” tends to bring to mind the quaint traditions of our grandparents. It draws up imagery of folk tales, dusty and dated; back when people took the time to churn the butter, to gather around the fire and tell a story. And while folk traditions do include crafts of quilting, sewing, and bread-baking, our classification of these things as “old-timey” or “outdated” is problematic. The idea that craft is becoming obsolete perpetuates attitudes and behaviors that are harmful to people and our environment, something that modern folk schools like Green Door Folk School aim to address.

We live in a world of high speed and immediacy. On a typical day, we might know the weather forecast without even poking our noses out the door. We can drive to the store and select nearly any type of food, any time of year, all wrapped up in plastic. One online purchase, and our worn out shoes can be replaced. We may live our whole lives never learning to sew a button back onto a coat, and might even throw the coat away because of it. In today’s world, it is possible to live without knowing how to grow our own food, make clothing, or even read maps. We’ve lost touch with the processes and skills involved in meeting some of our most basic human needs.

Because information is stored and shared digitally, we don’t feel an urgent need to pass on cultural knowledge. This knowledge, however, is integral to humanity. It connects us, not only to our ancestors, but to our sense of place. We should know what kind of soil lies beneath the ground we live on, and what it’s suitable for growing. We should know the properties of the plants around us and what they might be used for. We should know about the watershed, the rocks and minerals, and the animals we coexist with.

Why? Because this knowledge informs our life patterns, behaviors, and needs. Folk traditions emerged as a direct response to the conditions of our environment. In cold places, there are traditions of knitting sweaters or mittens, canning food to store for the winter, and crafting sleds or skis for traversing through icy landscapes. In coastal places, there are traditions of net-making and boat building. Culinary traditions exist regionally in relation to the growing seasons; correspondingly, music, stories, and activities mirror this seasonality. These folk traditions solve problems and improve standards of living.

As a society that, for the most part, has left these traditions behind, we have become detached from our natural environment and from one another. When we don’t know which foods are in season, the process of baking bread or sewing a garment, or the origins of the materials necessary for our goods, we can’t make the most sustainable choices. We lack community surrounding these processes, and become negligent of the planet’s well being as well as our own in our daily behaviors.

When our foods, practices, and material belongings are the tools that we rely on to live, they’re imbued with great value. When we’ve cultivated and built them with our own hands, we’re connected to the process and the materials; we also know how to sustain them. We can fix things when they break, rather than throwing them away. A society in which folk traditions continue to thrive is less wasteful. The ideology is simple, “use what you have to make what you need.” Living this way minimizes the urge to exploit natural resources or overconsume.

When we incorporate folk traditions and crafts into our lives, we take a less passive role in our existence. We are encouraged to move our bodies, to be outside, and to challenge our minds. There is great intention in the choices we make regarding consumption. These traditions also encourage us to rely on one another. What we lack in skills or resources, our neighbors might have in abundance. As social beings, it is beneficial to work in community with others, sharing knowledge and helping one another.

The good news is, folk and crafting traditions have not disappeared entirely. In fact, there is a hefty effort being made across the country to revive and preserve these traditions. Folk Schools, an idea originating around the 1830s in Denmark by Nikolaj Frederik Severin Grundtvig, have been popping up around the country for over a century. These learning environments aim to be accessible, inclusive, and non-competitive. Folk School education provides the common “folk” with an opportunity for experience-based, hands-on learning.

The Green Door Folk School joins other modern folk schools in preserving folk traditions, and repairing human-nature symbiosis. In a place like Traverse City, evidence of the dialogue between humans and nature is abundant. The indigenous people of this region, the Anishinaabek, have long held knowledge of food, medicine, materials, and cultural significance in this place. Among other crafts, they built canoes to travel across the water, and made baskets with local flora, including the Black Ash tree. They traded these goods on routes that spanned across the country. When this land was stolen by European colonizers, the sandy lakeshore and seemingly endless hardwood forest continued to shape the traditions of this place. The logging industry extracted hardwoods and pines from our forests and left logging towns with wooden slabbed houses dotting the landscape. A land without its trees revealed sandy loam soils, a biome suitable for growing fruit: cherries, apples, and then, later, grapes. Taking this history and ecology into consideration is a key factor in formulating course offerings.

In hopes of a world where folk traditions are flourishing, the vision of the future is also important to consider in planning folk school classes. Green Door Folk School intends to not only revive folk traditions of the past, but to appeal to the current needs of this community. What do we need to know how to do? What is relevant to the current relationship between humans and the environment? As Green Door Folk School enters the Traverse City community, green building, and permaculture classes are offered right alongside more traditional folk crafts like spoon carving and quilting. Because the presence of folk traditions and craft benefit our environment and our community, it’s important to reimagine these traditions of the past in the present context. We might strive to be the kind of people that know how to darn our socks and fix our bicycles. To know the stories of this land and how to tell the ones we are living now.

So when we ask ourselves what the solution to a highly individualistic society, or the climate crisis is, when we muse about feelings of isolation or lack of purpose, it might be best to return to the ways of our grandparents and those before them. We see the consequences of living in disconnect with one another and our environment: habits that disregard the well being of our environment, our community, and ourselves. It might do us some good to knit in the round, kneel in the garden, or labor over a loaf of bread alongside one another. Becoming embodied in these practices brings us together, and makes us better. Engaging with this cultural knowledge gives us a sense of place, a sense of humanness. At least, that’s what we believe at Green Door Folk School, where enrolling in a folk class might just be the way to do a little bit of good for ourselves, our community, and the planet.

About the author:

With a background in Norwegian cultural studies, Lauren Dahl has been exploring the way that Nordic folktales and northern crafting traditions have influenced human-nature relationships. As a steward of the environment, she strongly believes in the power of storytelling through writing, illustrating, making, and moving.

After a few years of teaching Waldorf Kindergarten and delving into the world of handwork, she spent several months farming and crafting in Sweden. There, she learned more about the rich traditions of folk education, and began to find ways to weave these practices back into her life in the midwest. Lauren has experience living, working, and instructing at North House Folk School in Grand Marais, Minnesota and now carries those gleanings with her as the Programs and Operations Director at Green Door Folk School in Traverse City, Michigan.

Works Cited

“Anishinaabek Culture.” National Parks Service, U.S. Department of the Interior, 7 Oct. 2024, www.nps.gov/slbe/learn/historyculture/anishinaabek-culture.htm.

Eiben, Vicky. “A Brief History of Folk Schools.” Folk Education Association of America — A Brief History of Folk Schools, 2015, www.folkschoolalliance.org/a-brief-history-of-folk-schools.

“Grand Traverse Band of Ottawa and Chippewa Indians.” — Grand Traverse Band of Ottawa and Chippewa Indians, www.gtbindians.org//history.asp.

Lester Graham. “Artisans of Michigan: Anishinaabe Black Ash Baskets.” Michigan Public, 14 June 2019, www.michiganpublic.org/arts-culture/2017-09-01/artisans-of-michigan-anishinaabe-black-ash-baskets.