the white schoolhouse

a little background on this project: this was our first collaboration that we sent out into the public sphere as a team. i am really proud of us for even taking the leap. this small essay is very close to my heart - it ignited a fire in me that i didn't know was there - and alex did such an amazing job bringing it to life through his photos. i am so grateful for this piece, even though it did not get selected to be published.

here it is.

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pizza

the schoolhouse

dining room

eric and me

eric & community

In the Midwest, particularly in the northern states, summer is a time to be cherished and delighted in. After months of short, solitary days and frigid weather, the warm months continue to take me by surprise every year, and inspire me to appreciate the length of days, the feel of the sun on my arms, and the velvety touch of the summer breeze. During the summer, we long to rejoice together, as a community, out in the open.

In my childhood during these hazy summer days, we frequently visited our friends Eric and Mary in Spring Green – a village about an hour west of Madison, Wisconsin. The two of them are local artists and entrepreneurs, with deep roots in that community. When I first met Eric and Mary, we visited a beautiful, white, old four- room schoolhouse that sits on a corner near the center of town. It was Eric’s photography studio and Mary’s textile craft space. As a child, I would spend hours on end exploring and investigating the treasure trove of props, vases, textiles, jars of buttons, bust forms, lights, and sweeps. The schoolhouse was a place completely different from anything I had ever experienced. Now as an adult, I recognize that the schoolhouse captivated and inspired me because it was my first window into a creative life. I saw firsthand that an artistic career was more than just an

occupational choice, but a lifestyle. Eric and Mary are artists, but it is their creativity and passion for community that drives everything they do.

Since my childhood, the schoolhouse has been transformed from a studio to a community meeting space. Now, each Friday, Eric fires up his brick pizza oven in the backyard and makes pizza for hours on end. The pizzas are made with seasonal, organic ingredients, all of which are local. The wide doors to the backyard are open as diners can go out to watch pizzas being made or sit among the wildflowers billowing in the breeze. Others sit at the makeshift bar alongside the oven, chatting and watching as one pizza after another gets tossed into the oven, while inside people flit from table to table and room to room greeting neighbors and friends.

Besides the delicious, local food created and enjoyed in a beautiful space, there is a feeling that everyone – even Spring Green outsiders – can experience and enjoy. As the schoolhouse is so profoundly Midwest, it brings about an immediate sense of home and belonging. Throughout the years the space has maintained its symbolic integrity as a schoolhouse: it continues to be a place of learning, play, and community. The multifunctional rooms now hold yoga classes and dance rehearsals. There is no better reminder of this than watching the children roam through and around the space just as I used to, while groups of parents converse over wine. Particularly in the summer, the schoolhouse stands as a communal beacon.

The space itself has been many things for Eric and Mary – a photo studio, a craft space, a community gathering place. For me, though, the schoolhouse has always been symbolic of one thing: a way to live an artistic life surrounded by community, and driven by passion.