School as a Collection of Seeds
Sarah Workneh in conversation with Fritz Haeg
I first met Sarah Workneh in 2018 at Skowhegan School of Painting & Sculpture where she was the co-director. I was invited as a visiting artist to give a lecture and visit studios. I saw first hand the way she gracefully held space and directed that summer program for 65 students plus faculty and staff on 350 acres. When she got up to introduce me for the lecture, the applause in the hall was overwhelming, not for me - but for her - it was clear how beloved she was there, how much each one of the students felt seen and cared for by her, it was deeply inspiring. I’ve had occasional chats with Sarah over the past few years as Salmon Creek Arts has been in formation, and now with the launch of Schools of Salmon Creek, I was eager to hear her thoughts.
Sarah spent 23 years running alternative art educational spaces, first at Ox-Bow School of Art & Artists’ Residency and more recently as co-director of Skowhegan for 14 years. She is now the Co-Executive Director of Sky High Farm. After a zoom call with 15 artists, teachers, and curators on our advisory council for the new program, including Sarah - we met again on January 15th, 2025 along with board member and artist Malik Gaines - to chat in more detail about our emerging and evolving plans.
-Fritz Haeg
Fritz Haeg: Hi Sarah, thanks so much for taking the time to meet again! One thing I hesitated to mention in our bigger meeting, is my growing ambivalence with occupying a position of authority and how that relates to the assumed hierarchy in a school structure. The older I get, the more humbled I am, the less confident I feel as a teacher in a way. When I started teaching in art and design colleges in my late 20’s I really felt like I had it all figured out. But now over 25 years later, I’m much less comfortable with my role as a “teacher.” I feel very comfortable cultivating a nurturing, permissive, and inspiring environment for learning though. And somehow the moment seems right for a student-run school.
Sarah Workneh: I think the way we have been taught to understand “teacher,” especially in its relationship to authority is only one model of how we can engage in the act of teaching. For example, I’m very interested in lay teachers, that is people teaching each other through proximity and knowledge exchange. There’s a whole world of social movements where that's the modality. It's an important way to think about changing hierarchies and modeling different kinds of institutional relationships. So even if you don't want to be the teacher teacher, there are other ways to do it that can feel natural to what you're trying to build here and the kinds of questions you are raising through how you have designed the school.
FH: That’s a great point. For example you’ll see the reading list that I just put up on the web page, a list of books that everyone coming this season should be looking at or at least aware of. To be clear this is my list. Anyone who would be the facilitator in future seasons will have a different list. Many of them are interrogations about the nature of education itself, bell hooks, Paulo Freire, and even the co-founder of Salmon Creek Farm, Robert Greenway - who originally intended this place to be a school for children.
Even though we’re starting out with very few resources, there is the freedom that we can do whatever we want. Where's the potential in there for you? Especially in the context of your 14 years at Skowhegan, running a different sort of art school.
SW: When talking about the potential of right now, I guess in a lot of ways I have always considered the right now to be any moment it actually is. What we are seeing culturally and politically is the result of a long progression which along its way covertly and overtly exploited or left a lot of people out in order to maintain its trajectory. So yes, it is a moment to declare what we believe, but I think that is an urgency which always exists. And that is part of why I have gravitated to places like Ox-Bow, Skowhegan, and now Sky High Farm. For different reasons, I have seen each of them as spaces to imagine transformation beyond what we can see in the present and doing the long slow work of manifesting versions of that or simply convincing people through demonstration that it can actually happen.
In terms of scale and the opportunity that Schools of Salmon Creek has, is that it is being built in 2025, when we know so much more about many kinds of justice, the various limitations of the art world, and who institutions are responsible to. And with this, you can offer a kind of new proposition of what creative production can look like. I love the nimbleness of the kind of institution you have built, which can inherently change over time because of its model. Part of what was always the puzzle and the challenge of Skowhegan for me - is shifting something that has been around for a long time. But one thing Skowhegan and Salmon Creek share is a history of being a place of intentional remove which offers safety for communities which experience hostility outside of it.
And I think expressing those values and that history is really important. All of this storytelling about why and how Schools of Salmon Creek has formed just helps people prepare by understanding the decision-making and the aspiration. Preparation is not just about setting rules or boundaries, but it is also about getting people ready for an experience so that they can enter in a way that is transformational. And it doesn't always have to be rules. Helping people prepare, in my mind, is part of equity work – letting people know what they can expect, what expectations you have for them, what things exist which might ensure safety, what opportunities there are for discomfort and support.
You found your way to this land for very specific reasons, and it has informed how you have moved through that space and where you are now. Using the history of the land as a way of thinking about the values that you want to put in the world and what you hope people will be attentive to while they're there, is really helpful for people. Just making that really clear and saying that, there are lots of possibilities once you arrive, it's wide open and we're not going to predict it. But these are the values that are important to us as an organization. And we think this is some of what you should be thinking about while you're here.
Do they apply? Do they have to write something?
FH: Yes, and in the application they have to declare an intention, explaining why they're coming to the land. But now to hear you talking, I think, yeah, it's only fair that we should declare our own intentions for why we're having artists come to Salmon Creek to learn.
One thing I do think about a lot. We live in a highly extractive society, where people are trained to take as much as they can and give as little back as possible. It’s an inward spiral where everyone becomes more extractive with exponentially diminishing returns. In an opposite system of giving more than you take, the ecological model that we need to learn, the spiral goes out, it just radiates and expands. I’ve seen each of those played out here depending on who is in the mix.
We're trying to leave behind extractive capitalist systems and enter into one that’s very fragile, if you are taking more than you're giving, you're destroying it. Not just this place, but the world at large.
SW: One thing I used to say at Skowhegan all of the time is that it is a school - as opposed to a residency - because we are here to learn. And I think that learning means we have to also be dedicated to walking through a messy learning process for big and important ideas to take root. We can hear things like “we're leaving behind extractive capitalist systems” and understand it and want it conceptually, but it is just very different from living it – and that seems to be part of what Salmon Creek wants to give people – the opportunity to live it through learning it, or vice versa. And I think part of resisting capitalism is refusing to exist in the binary of right and wrong. So maybe the learning is hard or happens in fits and starts, but that has to be ok because that is what learning is and can be - especially when we do it together. Beyond the ideas of learning, I think it's just very true that we all have experienced the consequences of various interactions with extractive capitalist systems and so there are different personal experiences that lead people to behave in certain ways and to ask for certain things. And I'm not saying all behaviors should be excused but I've figured out that it's not as straightforward as one might think. People are coming from different circumstances where it's totally understandable why they would be one way or another.
FH: Agreed, I’m not taking that into account. So how do you make room for that?
SW: There are ways that you can deal with it. At Skowhegan, which is a much bigger community, some of the behavior gets absorbed into the larger group. There’s a peer dynamic that happens. You set certain kinds of boundaries, or you allow people to assume responsibility for their own behavior in certain ways, which is to say that this is a special environment, this has it’s history, this is how we run it, we believe in this culture of generosity, therefore, we expect that you too will participate in generosity by XYZ or whatever. So all of a sudden, people become responsible for a different way of occupying space. Like you give them that power and responsibility. And in my mind, that's also an extension of generosity and part of preparation again. I think most people want to be good people. I think a lot of people have been told or acted upon that they are not good people or they don’t have value. I find restoring that sense of care, the patience of learning, the honesty of trust – it goes a long way, even if it starts out bumpy as we learn through it.
FH: I know. I was so naive at the beginning when I first came to Salmon Creek Farm 10 years ago. I thought everyone is invited in and comes on the same terms. And immediately, I realized, no, that's impossible. Every inequity in the world is coming in the gates with people.
SW: Yes and even though this isn't yet an institution, it still is a structure that is familiar to people, and they will have been at other places, some inequitable, where they have had bad experiences or felt like they needed to be more demanding to be seen or in the opposite, more protective. The other thing I have come to realize is that we are constantly culturally stuck between seeing ourselves, almost forcefully, as individuals and at the same time we are ready to apply universal treatments or norms to other people’s behaviors. Both modes are dangerous to an experiment in living and working collectively. Thankfully, in these environments we, at least, have the opportunity to see each other differently.
I do think writing something or having someone present at the start of each session to kind of set the cultural tone is important. All of these strangers coming together to suddenly participate in a student-run land project art school is a really high bar.
FH: Yeah, everyone made it really clear in our meeting that there needs to be a human facilitator guiding people. I'm going to be there and the resident caretaker and steward. Plus artists from the extended Salmon Creek community who might be coming and going.
SW: I think that really helps to have other people that are there in the fold. I don't know what your orientation is like, but folding everyone in, so everyone has a role, you model the interactions you want people to have. For example our grounds person at Skowhegan gave a tour of the campus and the housekeepers are included, everybody has a role. Not only are they seeing everyone on staff, not just the director, collaborating and working in community together – you are also making visible the labor which exists to make the place function. It is much harder to be extractive and destructive if you see the person tasked with making the place for you – if you can call them by their name. Once things become abstract in these environments, people can behave poorly.
FH: I totally agree. For example we’ve had a system for many years where each guest gets their cabin ready, makes the bed, and leaves a letter for the next person.
For the first season of the school, the schedule now includes a lot of things that have become traditional at SCF, an extensive tour and orientation the day after arrivals, morning movement on the dance deck, evening communal meals at Dawn cabin, a weekly book club, and Saturday work parties focused on seasonal land work like planting a food garden or chopping wood. In addition each artist would present their work to the group on the first day, and propose a program, skill-share, workshop, show, or activity to be scheduled during the 2 months together. Afternoons would be totally free for art-making or whatever.
SW: I feel like I bristle at the term tradition, but at the same time what you are describing I think is important. Maybe it's less about tradition and more about the commitment to values as expressed through the acts themselves - tours as a way of connecting to the land, communal meals to build mutuality, book club to engage in discourse, and work parties because caring is fun.
I guess all of those examples are expressions of care, so maybe it's the question of how does care become part of the curriculum? And as a part of that care, how do you build structures that are adaptable and adaptable within the session. The arc of seven weeks has many different personalities, I would say. It's long enough that you'll have a very defined beginning, middle and end periods.
FH: Yes, also one thing I am mindful of, not everyone is a joiner all the time. Sometimes you need to step back from the group. But with such an intimate environment, it's harder for people to opt out of things without seeming antisocial. There always has to be room for that though. The special thing about Salmon Creek Farm is that at any given moment, you can go to your cabin and be deeply alone, really drop out, and totally disappear. Which everyone needs to do from time to time.
SW: Again, not to sound like a broken record, but this is important to convey to people in advance, that this is a unique kind of school you're signing up for, involving real engagement and that there are ways of participating that are important for a special school like this to really function.
At the end of the day, it’s the language of offering something, with space for people to exist as themselves within that offering. In an applied sense, you can say, this is the schedule that we're going to try, but we also understand if some of it is maybe too physical. Someone with a chronic illness like me might be able to do the gardening in the morning, but I can guarantee you that there's no way I can participate in a book club that same afternoon. But maybe you try it for the first week, and then if people need to adjust the schedule to support their participation, that's something you can talk about.
FH: What’s underlying much of what you’re saying is just thorough communication and context.
SW: Yes, mutual communication. I always like to put it back on the people - this is a place where we respect each other, we respect each other's time, we respect each other's contributions. That’s me to you, but it also has to be you to me. If you have to miss something, you respectfully let someone know. It's a lot harder to ditch out on something if you have to tell somebody else. But sometimes it's just making them aware that here, we account for other people. Which doesn’t feel like too much to ask.
FH: I'm curious what you think about that list of seven categories of student offerings: building, cooking, crafting, gardening, performing, storytelling, and stewarding. Each student comes with experience to offer in at least one of those expansive categories, and I’m not assuming these are the media they are necessarily working in as an artist either.
For me a central tenant of a profound education has always been leading students to doors that may then be fully opened and entered into any time later in life. It’s a repository of possibilities, a collection of seeds they carry with them through their entire lives. Some may be acted on decades later, it still happens to me all the time! In school sometimes it’s enough just to introduce the door. At any given point in the future, they can walk through it when they are ready.
As a human on this planet I think every person, and especially every artist, should have some level of capacity and awareness of those seven categories, especially to be able to take care of themselves, if nothing else to have some empathy and understanding for those who are taking care of them, feeding them, housing them, and keeping them warm. I also happen to believe that those categories can be culture at it’s highest level.
It may be amateurish to dabble, to be a generalist, but this gets at a philosophy of living and art-making, acknowledging the complexity of real life, and living in a place like this, having to do all of these things and knowing that they are all a part of just being a human on earth.
Even if these seven categories aren’t a part of the artist practice now, they might cycle through them in some way later.
SW: You’re offering a fully experiential way of being. You know, I think it is hard to be someone who is an educator - or whatever version of that we want to be - and not have strong feelings about values or ways of living, that’s why we have this vocation, I suppose. I also think we as humans have become really disconnected to the kinds of care you just listed. But I think this is really it: “a collection of seeds” that we can carry for the duration of our lives. That is the teaching.
FH: You’ve seen so many young artists come through a place like Salmon Creek with their intentions, their paths, their ideas, where they're at in their careers at these early stages. What do you think of our plans in that context?
SW: Let’s go back to the collection of possibilities. I think places like Salmon Creek are so important in offering a different way of understanding and participating in the world– especially in the context of their careers and post education. A lot of young artists feel the pressure of being on a trajectory, moving quickly from one phase of success to another. It is not always about speed and directed paths, in fact, slowness and attentiveness are things that probably can feed a practice more substantively over the long term. And I think these pillars you offer, are really about that slowness and attentiveness.
FH: There are a lot of ideas taking shape, and plans that we’ll start with, we’ll learn a lot from the first group.
SW: That's the joy of working with humans, you can plan as much as you wanna plan, but no one's gonna stick to it anyway! You're just constantly learning and it's exciting and things that you never imagined could happen and things that are problems become the things that you learn the most from. It's thrilling.
FH: There’s going to be plenty of opportunities for it to change and evolve over time, but I just want to make sure that we have the language right. For example instead of The School of Salmon Creek it’s Schools of Salmon Creek. Which is to say we're open to multitudes, that each school is just one of many possible others.
SW: All of that thinking feels really valuable for people to know going in. This is the way in which we are building this experimental space. We have these values, but we're not defining it. This is also one of the things that I think people really liked and struggled with at Skowhegan. I made it very clear in the beginning that it was our opportunity to build this institution together. We had nine weeks, we're doing this together. You contribute to that construction and that idea and those mechanics and that kindness and all of these things. So by calling it Schools rather than The School, it can transcend a concreteness and that transcendence is central to its own existence, if that makes sense. Its values can be concrete, but the enactment of those values become slippery so as to give students the chance to embody that role as co-creator themselves.