On the sunny morning of Saturday, October 19, a friend and I arrived at Snow Hinton Park, a green patch amid strip malls on the outskirts of Tuscaloosa, Alabama. The cars of McFarland Boulevard passed in the distance as we walked into the fifty-third annual Kentuck Festival of the Arts. During my initial two years at the University of Alabama, I frequently heard the festival’s praises from peers and passed its colorful billboards on University Boulevard. Tall feather banners adorned the entrance with messages of “FUNNEL CAKE,” “WELCOME,” and vendor row numbers. After buying our tickets at the front table, we began to wade through the tunnels of white tents, my eyes catching the colors that bounced out from within each one.
As we reported in last year’s review, this was the festival’s first year at a new venue and out of Northport. As one attendee observed, “the new location is so much more central and visible in Tuscaloosa that I hope it will increase awareness and curiosity of the festival. However, after having been to the old location once, I must say there is something missing now.” The old location had a charm, tucked away in the woods, that Snow Hinton, though a great park, cannot offer in the same ways. In a big field, surrounded by apartments and businesses and one of the busiest roads, Kentuck felt more like a traveling carnival: a vastness of trimmed grass, concrete, and sunshine.
I discussed the shift with the festival’s executive director, Exa Skinner, appointed in January. Construction encroached on the park that held the event for the past fifty years, so Skinner and her team searched the state for new possible locations. “We really wanted to stay within Tuscaloosa County,” she stated, “We had a matrix of all the things that we wanted in festival grounds, like accessibility. That wasn’t something that we’d had at the previous park.” She explained how the city of Tuscaloosa stepped forward with the plans for a new park that would perfectly match these qualifications. “It’s on the two busiest roads of Tuscaloosa. It really is the Central Park of Tuscaloosa. We had so many people come who didn’t know anything about the festival.” The director also acknowledged criticisms of the new park, saying “a lot of people mentioned that they missed the trees. I want everyone to know that we and the city also really loved the trees. That’s why the city planted all those trees that will grow. That’s not something that we can just readily produce — mature trees. I do encourage people to think of both sides of it. A perk of not having the trees is that it’s not dusty and people are not tripping on tree roots.”
While nostalgia leaves many missing the romantic former venue, my conversation with Skinner reminded me that the festival is more than a gathering in the woods. One could easily miss the point of the festival itself if they lingered on aesthetics. Once I started walking through the stalls, it quickly felt like the old Kentuck. The artist and craftsmen were just as warm, welcoming, and refreshing as before. So maybe the Kentuck vibes will stay just the same as long as the people who contribute to it continue to do so with the passion, love, and dedication that they have always had. These conversations hinted that the heart of the festival is not in its location, but it was viewing the art on my own that cemented the idea.
Kentuck is a major festival for the southeast, offering a major outlet for the region’s artists ranging from sculpture, painting, and photography, to music and spoken word. It’s particular strength is in southern folk art, such as the metal orchid sculpture that first caught my attention. Montgomery-based Shipman Schaum had set up a kind of steampunk greenhouse which held multiple varieties of welded plants and cast flowers. I examined each one, admiring they captured a fragile beauty out of fire and hammers. I observed the ragged edges of the metal roots atop concrete bases, a stark contrast to their usual soft soil setting. Shaum uses local flora to tell the story he saw most fitting, such as painting a metallic gold on his sculptural approach to cotton to meditate on the problematic past of this southern cash crop. Real pieces of cotton laid lightly on the sharp stem, inviting me to feel torn between a nostalgic fantasy of the “Old South” and the violence of the region’s economic past. Similarly, a Cahaba Lily sat in another corner; this threatened species is only found along the banks of some rivers in Alabama, Georgia, and South Carolina. Called by different names in the Shoals and in the two other states it occupies, the Cahaba Lily is cherished by Alabamians as a symbol of the region’s wild beauty. The razor-like outer petals appear dangerous even in their natural state, thus the flower’s shape complemented Shaum’s design. Despite being made from inorganic materials, nothing felt artificial about Shaum’s pieces.
Continuing through the park, we found the tent of portraitist Monica Iversen. Intricate still lives of vintage toys hung on the walls, and I could see the hours of precision that were spent with each piece. She would go on to win the festival’s merit prize for two-dimensional work. As she described it, “the way they presented the award was charming, and it was adorable with the kazoos and the team spirit of the staff. No one’s ever done anything like that before, so I thought it was really special.” As it had been her first year at the festival, I asked why she had not participated before. “I look on their site and there is an awful lot of crafty photos, or I should say maybe folk art,” she said, “They didn’t have anything with, what I consider, a sculptural or a fine art kind of aspect, at least in their photos. But when I was walking around, I did see some really skillful artists. It could be that that’s not the message they want to be out there.”
This comment took me aback. I do not think she was trying to insinuate that folk artists are not skillful, but I know that there is a divide between the genres. Fine art is something that values technique and training from an institution or under a mentor. Folk art requires a different set of skills, tends to use repurposed materials rather than expensive or environmentally harmful ones, and makes space for the self-taught and unconventional. It is a distinctive art form that works as an expression of a culture, allowing the artist to show what they’ve learned from a certain community, family, occupation, and environment. Fine art is often less attached to a place, aiming to reach a wider audience by addressing broader ideas of human existence or simply pursuing an artistic technique. I wondered if this divide played a role in the culture of Kentuck. Is there an art form that Kentuck aims to platform or push ahead of the other?
Skinner gave a clue to an answer during a phone call a few weeks after the festival: “The festival is the real-life interpretation of the Kentuck Art Center’s mission, which is to perpetuate the arts, engage the community and empower artists. It does all three of those things. It’s only through having those experiences and learning things like that that people can appreciate the art. And it’s only through appreciating art that they want to buy art, which will help artists, you know, live another day to keep making it.” To categorize Kentuck as one kind of art festival would be taking away from its overall goal.
I like the way Skinner put it, “what Kentuck stands for, is that art is for everyone.” Maybe Kentuck has not marketed towards fine artists in the past, but I think they are within the festival’s scope. I do not find Kentuck limited to simple classifications: fine or folk, woods or park. The message is all arts for all people of West Alabama. How beautiful is that? Kentuck is not only for one kind of artist and is not bound to one location. This is why I have been pointing out that the festival’s value lies beyond more shallow factors. It moves and evolves with the community of Tuscaloosa so that it may best perpetuate, engage, and empower.
The 2024 Kentuck Festival of the Arts was held at Snow Hinton Park, Tuscaloosa, on October 19 and 20. It featured more than 270 artists; see the official festival website for the complete list. Proceeds support the following year’s festival and fund Kentuck Art Center’s year-round programming. Kentuck Art Center is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization with locations in Northport and Tuscaloosa, Alabama.