Looking Closely: Discovering the Roycroft Campus
Looking Closely — A series about art, craftsmanship, and learning to see
I had not planned to discover an entire community built around the belief that making things by hand matters.
But while traveling through East Aurora, New York, I visited the Roycroft Campus. I knew it was connected to the American Arts and Crafts movement. I did not understand, until I walked through it, how completely the Roycroft philosophy was woven into the buildings, pathways, furniture, gardens, and objects made there.
The Roycroft Campus grew out of Elbert Hubbard’s belief in the value of well-designed, handmade objects. Inspired in part by the English Arts and Crafts movement, Hubbard established the Roycroft Press in East Aurora in 1897.
What began with printing and hand-bound books grew into a community of artists and craftspeople known as the Roycrofters. They made furniture, copper work, leatherwork, stained glass, paintings, ceramics, and books. Artists worked alongside one another, learning through making and sharing a belief that the work of the hand, mind, and heart were connected. One of our former gallery artists, Richard Aerni, has work here. It was fun to see it in person again.
That idea stayed with me as I walked through the campus.
The Appian Way
One of my first discoveries was the Appian Way, a pedestrian avenue connecting the principal Roycroft buildings. It allowed people to move between the Inn, the workshops, and the other places where they worked and gathered.
Today, the pathway carries another layer of history. A stone set into it records its 1999 rededication:
In honor of those who have kept the spirit and ideals of Roycroft alive.
The surrounding bricks carry names. Some remember earlier Roycrofters. Others recognize people who helped preserve the campus and continue its traditions.
The Appian Way connects the buildings physically, but it also connects the original Roycroft community with the people who continue to care for it.
A Bench Worth Looking At
I stopped to photograph one of the benches along the path.
At first, it appears simple: thick wooden boards, a solid base, and two narrow turquoise-colored bands crossing the seat.
But the longer I looked, the more I noticed.
The construction is not hidden. The wood is substantial. A wooden joint passes directly through the base and remains visible from the outside.
The bench shows how it was put together.
That detail says something about the Arts and Crafts movement. The structure is not separate from the design. The way an object is made becomes part of its beauty.
As a ceramic artist, I understand that idea. I think about the evidence of the hand—the edge of a coil, a pinched surface, a carved line, or the way Lake Michigan sand settles into a glaze. These details reveal the process rather than disguising it.
The bench reminded me that good craftsmanship doesn’t have to hide the hand of the maker. It asks for honesty in the materials and care in the construction.
Marks and Symbols
As I continued walking, I began noticing the Roycroft symbol repeated throughout the campus.
It appears on the Appian Way plaque and on many objects made by the Roycrofters: a double-barred cross above an “R” enclosed within a circle.
It functioned as a maker’s mark, identifying an object with the Roycroft workshops and their standards of craftsmanship.
Nearby, a contemporary garden sculpture uses an iron framework, brightly colored geometric shapes, spirals, and a form that recalls the double-barred Roycroft cross.
That combination interested me.
Keeping a tradition alive does not mean copying what was made a century ago. It can mean understanding the values behind the work and carrying them forward in a new way.
What the Campus Showed Me
Much of the original Roycroft Campus survives today as a National Historic Landmark, preserving the story of this remarkable Arts and Crafts community.
But what interested me most wasn’t simply the history.
It was how visible those ideas still are.
I could see them everywhere.
In the exposed joinery of the bench. In the names embedded in the Appian Way. In the repeated maker’s mark. In the old buildings being used again. And in contemporary artwork placed among the gardens.
The campus invites us to consider the things we live with every day.
Who made them?
What materials were used?
Why was something made this way?
What becomes visible when the maker doesn’t hide the process?
Those are questions I bring back to my own studio.
I want my ceramics to reward a second look. I want someone to notice the marks left by my fingers, the movement of a carved line, or the Lake Michigan sand becoming part of the surface. Those choices help tell the story of how the work was made and the place that inspired it.
That may be what I appreciated most about Roycroft. It wasn’t simply a place where beautiful objects were produced. It was a community built around the belief that the way something is made matters.
The more closely I looked, the more connections I found.
Sources and Further Reading
For more about the history of Roycroft, the restoration of the Appian Way, and the preservation of the campus:
● The Appian Way and its restoration
● Roycroft Campus National Historic Landmark documentation
I am on my way to the workshop in the Catskills. Take care, Cyndi
