Sawdust Festival origins OUSTED ARTISTS establish their own show, now in its fourth decade
By Dolores Ferrell Pevehouse
to celebrate the festival's longevity, two of the earliest participants, Jay Grant and Patti Ohsland, compiled "The Sawdust Festival: the early years, 1965-79," a 142-page scrapbook of anecdotes and photos. They graciously agreed to share their labor with The Indy's readers. This is the first of three parts. The Authors Jay Grant In 1973 I walked into the Sawdust Festival for the very first time. I was amazed. The festival was electric. Music, lights and colors vibrated everywhere. Visitors streamed in to purchase art and crafts, but they also came to experience the eclectic atmosphere of strange characters and unusual sights. It was a true happening. Old barn doors. Peasant dresses. Macrame. Folk-rock. Long beards. Excitement and creative energy everywhere. Right away something grabbed my heart. Rustic, funky, charming and brimming with the oddest collection of individuals. Little did I know then that the Sawdust would become a huge and delightful part of my life. A year later I married Nikki, a founding member of the Sawdust. The following summer I was asked to become sales manager. Lifelong friendships and a true love for the Sawdust was knit into the fabric of my life. Patti Ohsland I started doing the show in 1973 with Margaret Malla, a ceramicist, selling her items. She worked all year for the show, which only lasted six weeks. She made wine goblets and would sell out in the first few weeks. It was like a herd of locusts; high intensity and high energy. Malla and I opened a ceramics and teaching studio on Forest Avenue. We did the Sawdust in summer. By 1976, I was making art fulltime. Booth selection initially depended on when your mail arrived. I got mine early in the day and then I would run down and select a spot. Later it went to a seniority system because people would give fake addresses in order to get mail delivered early. The first time I sold my work had to do with a neighbor, who was selling potted plants. I provided the pots. It's instant gratification. Anything that was made of macramé sold. That's the advantage of the show today. Artists can adapt what they're making during the show. From left, Tim Hahne, Bruce Linder and Jorg Dubin. Taking after Dylan , Peter Paul Ott Sr. and David of the duo David & Roselyn kept the vibe going on harmonica. This account of the Sawdust Festival's first five years was written by its first president. Circa 1965-1970 the famous Festival of Arts and Pageant of the Masters was already well established in 1965 when a small group of artist-exhibitors called the Art Guild decided the Festival should be juried in order to be increase its credibility. I was a member of that group. The jurying became a way to throw "out" many of the original founders, experimental artists described as "hippies," and students of teachers who did not want to compete with their students. I was one of the students. I was outraged that a benign effort turned into a free-for-all by the few. The prime mover of the Guild called the founders "little old lady painters," along with derogatory names for others. I was joined by another "rejected" artist named Yvonne Kenward, along with Marilyn Zapp, Frank Tauriello and Helen Beck, artists who had not been juried out but stood with us in solidarity. There were others whose name I can no longer recall and some who do not want to be identified as rejected artists.

We dejected artists picketed the Festival of Arts before opening day. We began our protest march in front of the main gate of the Festival grounds.

Larry Doty presides over the 1979 Sawdust Festival board meeting in an informal outdoor setting.

The news media loved it and the picketing became big news.

Demonstrating their art, such as metal-crafter Earl Reid did and ceramicist Bill Darnall (pictured below) did, appealed to early Sawdust Festival exhibitors as a way to differentiate themselves from the Festival of Arts

An insurance man, convinced that the publicity was bad for the Festival of Arts, offered a vacant lot for a second art show if the picketing would cease. Kenward accepted and the first vestige of the future Sawdust Festival was born. It was called the "Rejects Festival." About 30 artists set up on easels and other hastily formed display areas, running the show concurrent with the Festival of Arts.

In 1967, I was again rejected by the main Festival and learned there were 100 others, some early founders, experimental artists, and assorted other kinds who had also been juried out. These included some of Laguna's leading citizens, Ed Van Deusen and Larry Kronquist.

We formed an association. I was elected president and Kronquist vicepresident. The well-attended meeting at my gallery included Van Deusen, who professionally organized industrial trade shows. He volunteered as a consultant. The group invited all 100 rejected artists to join an alternative show. About 65 agreed in what became the first fully organized Sawdust Festival, held on a North Coast Highway vacant lot.

Van Deusen and I sent out daily news releases, many of which were printed word for word. The professional looking booths, because of the design insisted upon by Kronquist, caught the eyes and favor of many of the town's more liberal citizens and many visitors that summer. A hitch on opening day almost scuttled opening day when at 5 p.m. the mayor withdrew the permit, demanding that eight toilets for the expected crowd must be in place before the show opens. We alerted the media but scrambled to meet the demand, securing public access to toilets from two nearby galleries and restaurants, the Royal Hawaiian and Cottage.

Two of his council colleagues told him they would all lose the next election if he persisted. The mayor got so flustered by media calls about stopping the art show that he reinstated the permit, allowing the festival to open just 30 minutes late at 6:30 p.m.

Another demand from the mayor, refusing to let us call ourselves the Festival of Artists, was also solved creatively. The media referred to us as the "sawdust festival," because we spread sawdust to keep down blowing sand as well as to recapture the culture of the Festival of Arts, by then all cement. We took the moniker, changing the name of our corporation from the Artists and Gallery-Owners, Inc. to The Sawdust Festival Corporation.

At the festival's end, Van Deusen suggested holding an auction and booth tear down, donating proceeds to the Boys Club of Laguna Beach. We did, raising about $1,500.

The following year Van Deusen leased three acres of land across the canyon from the Festival of Arts grounds owned by two artists who had also been rejected. He and I searched everywhere for a place to hold the second art show after being denied a second year at the North Coast Highway lot.

A slight hitch happened in 1968 as well, which would lead to one of the Sawdust's most distinctive features. Two officers insisted on jurying the show. Outvoted by the majority of the board, the two lobbied other members, offering reimbursement of membership and booth fees. Many of the same group who had been juried out of the Festival of Arts went along with them, leaving the Sawdusters without much money, along with a lease and show to pay for, and a lot fewer artists.

To fill the holes left by the departing artists, Van Deusen insisted I invite experimental artists such as Bob Young, Dion Wright and Mac Macdonald to join the show. They agreed when I promised they could weld metal and fire glass in demonstrations on the show grounds. I recall Wright's anger when he was ordered to stop working on a nine-foot tall metal Medusa on the Festival grounds the year before.

Bob Young became the grounds manager. Those superb artists designed the grounds with railroad ties, an old fire wagon and treasures from the city dump. "Found objects," Young called them, real objects d'arte. "We must have a gate," he said and created one with the railroad ties; no fence, just a gate. "Why not?" he asked, as any truly creative artist would.

A howling success, the show has gone on and on to the amazement of all the early doubters. By 1970, the Sawdust Festival assured its posterity by purchasing the leased property with a mortgage.

The Sawdust Festival still does not jury its exhibitors to this day and all exhibitors are Laguna Beach residents. Demonstrations remain a major part of the show, reflecting its earliest beginnings.

In 1970, I was juried back into the Festival of Arts. But I refused. "My heart belongs to the Sawdust Festival and always will. I no longer want to exhibit in the Festival of Arts."

As the summer art festival season will commence shortly, we thought readers would enjoy getting a sense of the vibe from years past as chronicled by several local artists. The Sawdust Art Festival history was initially published in 2006.