“The Mill River Folk School’s mission is to enrich lives, build community, and inspire the hands, the heart, and the mind. Its vision is to strive to see traditional arts, crafts, and skills flourish in a modern world. Together, the making of objects and the creation of practical things of beauty will improve our lives.”
— Steve Butler, founder of Mill River Folk School
“As a kid, I loved making things,” Steve Butler begins. His father, who left the family when Steve was a year old, was also a tinkerer. His mother raised Steve and his older brother on her own, working three jobs to keep them clothed and fed. Growing up in Toronto exposed him to people from diverse cultures and histories. “There were four million people from all around the world living in my city, the fourth largest city in North America,” he notes.
“We attended small city schools that couldn’t afford woodshop courses or spaces,” he continues. “While my brother turned to sports to escape, I turned to music and the arts.” In the seventh grade, he was introduced to the ukelele—and, from there, the acoustic music playbook. After high school, while hitchhiking across Canada, he met up with a friend in Kelowna, British Columbia, busking and playing for door money and living for a while on an Indian reserve.
“My best friend Dave Bawden, whom I met in third grade, came from a big family (eight kids) that welcomed me. We walked to school together, and I spent summers with his family at their cottage near Peterborough, Ontario. They exposed me to fishing and the outdoors, but also to folk music—it was in me, but they were the first to expose me to it,” he acknowledges. Another influential introduction came from his first girlfriend, whose family had a coffee table book entitled “The Forgotten Crafts” by John Seymour. “It included (among other things) how to make a traditional broom and pitchfork, how to build a fence and stone wall, how to make a trug. I thought, ‘This is amazing!’” he recalls.
Testing and training
Butler worked many jobs in his early adult years, trying out different things. “I owned a bar with a few partners for a while and even worked for a stretch in the stock exchange in Toronto, which I found exhausting and depressing,” he chuckles. “Somewhere along the line, I left that job and asked my family friends if I could stay in their cottage [in Peterborough] for a few months to ‘gather myself.’ While there, I visited Mintlaw Woodworking, where I met Brian Muir, who specialized in making custom wooden screen doors for cottages. I immediately thought, ‘This is what I’d like to do,’ and told him I’d work for two weeks for free to prove I could do it. At the end of the time, Muir said, ‘I can’t afford to hire you,’ so I went to the nearby unemployment office, which compensated Brian for my wages.”
Muir eventually offered him an apprenticeship. During that time, Butler became friends with a co-worker who left the company to go to Sheridan College of Art and Design for furniture design. Returning to Toronto after earning his apprenticeship certificate, Butler worked as a historical trades interpreter in the cooperage and cabinet shop at Black Creek Pioneer Village (a living history museum). As his passion for art and craft grew, he, too, decided to pursue formal training at Sheridan College, earning a BFA in furniture design. “Anybody knowing me growing up would say, ‘Well, that makes sense—you were always tinkering,’” he acknowledges.
At Sheridan College, Butler joined the Furniture Society and was on the conference committee the year they hosted the annual conference. “That exposed me to the studio makers, and I became part of that scene,” he says. He then earned his B.Ed. in technological education at Queen’s University in Kingston, Ontario.
Finding community
Securing a work visa, Butler moved to the U.S., becoming department head of the wood studio at the Worcester Center for Crafts, where he met his wife Liesl (a jeweler). They eventually landed at Peters Valley School of Craft in the Delaware Water Gap, a multi-media craft school with studios in ceramics, blacksmithing, metals, textiles, and more. “I was the head of the wood studio there, but we had access to and could utilize all the different studios to help create our own body of work in the off-season. There was a little church on the property where we’d convene on Friday nights with our dogs and a glass of wine and listen to guest instructors,” he reminisces.
“We loved teaching and living at Peters Valley. I worked full-time teaching from May through September and planned programs in the off-season for four years,” Butler continues. “Though I was paid very minimally, part of the stipend was housing on the 70,000-acre property (owned by The U.S. Department of Interior) along the Delaware Water Gap—an area that reminds me of Mill River and the surrounding Berkshire region.” When Butler lost his job at Peters Valley in 2010 due to a reduction in funding (a year and a half after their son Quinn was born), the family moved to Uxbridge, Mass., for a sense of familiarity and family support.
“We kept coming to this region because my wife’s grandparents lived in Sheffield (her aunt still does). We were drawn to the great sense of community, the music festivals, the natural setting, and the number of makers who lived here. Everything just felt right here,” he says. Still, they longed for the dynamic artist communities they enjoyed at Peters Valley.
Pitching craftsmanship from a garage studio
“I was up late one night watching TV and saw an ad on the local cable access channel saying, ‘Have an idea for a show?’ I approached them with my idea, hoping someone would watch and hire me to build some furniture,” Butler explains. Thus, The Garage with Steve Butler was born—a show where (per its website) Butler “creates a collection of clever woodworking objects” and “strives to make each project accessible, both economically and technically, while emphasizing the fun and creativity of woodworking.” It first aired on the Uxbridge cable access channel, then Rhode Island PBS picked it up, others followed, and eventually, Create TV aired it.
“The show grew and grew,” Butler says, noting that it now airs as far away as Hawaii, Australia, and Capetown, South Africa, but a lot of stress was involved. “Every year, we had to get sponsorships to pay the crew, editors, and filmmakers.”
A roundabout journey to Mill River, with impeccable timing
When he first moved to the Berkshires in 2015, Butler worked as a woodworking instructor in the Activities Program at Austin Riggs, teaching clients in their craft studio (The Lavender Door on Main Street in Stockbridge). “I was doing that while filming the show, but it grew harder to keep doing both,” he admits.
In May 2024, when their Mill River house renovations were under control, Butler planned to resume filming and arranged to interview Andrew Jack from Canaan, Conn., for a series on area craftspeople. “Thinking about doing the show again brought on stressful feelings,” he confides. “I needed to generate enough income to pay the crew and support my family while trying to showcase area talent. It just didn’t feel right.”
Commiserating with Liesl about everything they missed about Peters Valley, he realized the Berkshire region had all the missing ingredients. “We decided to bring them together in one place and start our own folk school—a dream I’d been whittling for a while.”
“So I launched the Mill River Folk School—an incorporated, non-profit school to create a community of makers, learners, and teachers,” Butler shares. Shortly after, he joined The Folk Education Association of America, which, along with his past program experience at the two craft centers, equipped him with the requisite tools and networks.
“The timing couldn’t have worked out any better,” he admits. Four other new folk schools have popped up in just the past year. “At all my previous mundane jobs, I was often absent because I wasn’t happy or fulfilled. When I discovered woodworking, I never missed work and would have to be told to go home. I wanted to stay and make things in the woodshop longer.” Like Butler, other people who were feeling unfulfilled or pressured on the job started working with their hands—and something happened. “Suddenly they had to be told to go home,” he smiles.
Why the current surge in interest? “It’s a combination of a lot of things,” Butler believes. “It’s partly influenced by COVID, when people paused to think about what was meaningful in their lives and how they were feeding their souls in the midst of it all.” But other factors—including politics, economics, environmental sustainability, a desire to connect to the past, build community, develop skills and competence, or explore a sense of spirituality—are also likely at play.
The Folk School ethos
Since its inception in May 2024, people have asked Butler, “What’s a folk school?” He freely admits, “There’s so much to it that I have a hard time pinpointing and articulating exactly what it is.” The model traces its origins back to Scandinavian countries, with Danish author and poet N.F.S. Grundtvig coining the term ‘schools for life’ as part of his educational vision for strengthening and empowering communities. When kids growing up on rural farms couldn’t attend school and keep up with their farm chores, they brought the schools to them.
Essentially, it’s a school that provides hands-on, skill-based learning of traditional crafts—such as blacksmithing, woodworking, metalsmithing, broom making, boat and paddle making, ceramics, and textiles. “The focus is on creating and teaching, not evaluation,” Butler emphasizes. “But more than that, it’s a feeling or a spirit—a ‘learning for learning’s sake’ experience that encourages lifelong learning.” To crystallize the philosophy behind the movement, he quotes from Max Bainbridge’s book, “Heirloom Wood” (which he is currently rereading): “Being a maker is not just a job, it’s a way of life.”
Realizing a dream, with gratitude
“I’m so glad I discovered this. I came to it late, but it’s made all the difference,” Butler says. “After working deflating jobs, I discovered the joy of making a tangible object with my own hands, seeing the process from beginning to end, and I love it! I still get that same exhilaration every time I do it.”
Everything has fallen into place quickly for Butler and the folk school—from connecting with musical friends and a tight host community to being in a region rich in restaurants, B&Bs, and travel options. Still, he admits that creating a nonprofit is no easy feat. He’s had to secure operating grants, assemble a board of directors, and launch a capital campaign, among other tasks. “But it has all been a labor of love,” Butler assures.
Although his long-term vision is to have a barn raising and establish a folk school community center, he’ll be holding workshops in the Southfield Church hall this year. “The idea for many of the workshops grew out of the book I saw on my girlfriend’s coffee table—including how to make a trug (shallow oblong basket) with Butler and Andrew Jack, the ‘Mokok’ indigenous bark basket with Jennifer Lee, and traditional chair weaving with Kokoro Bensonoff,” he explains. You can also learn fly-tying with Larry Antonuk, rug braiding with Kathryn Swanson, whisk broom making with Larry Antonuk, and traditional folk wood carving with David Lane. (See the website for course descriptions and instructor bios.)
“I hope you’ll help me to continue to create this community,” Butler urges. To that end, you can spread the word, share your expertise by teaching a workshop, become a board member or volunteer, donate to the capital campaign, sign up for a class, or simply pay a visit. No matter how you choose to connect, you’ll surely experience an old tradition in a new way.
