When wildfire tore through Dorland Mountain Arts
Colony in the spring of 2004, nearly everything, aside from some tall oak
trees, was destroyed. Eight distinctive cottages that provided refuge for generations
of writers, an idiosyncratic library, irreplaceable journals that contained the
jottings of past residents, the Steinway piano Sergey Rachmaninoff is said to
have once played—all of it was gone.
But
people who'd fallen in love with the three-hundred-acre Southern California
artists hideaway refused to let it go. Now, after almost six years of
fund-raising, brainstorming, architectural planning, and construction, Dorland
is once again welcoming writers. This spring Dorland is opening the first two
of its new artists cottages, with more to come. Plans call for adding six more
cottages, each of which will be about 575 square feet, by the end of 2011; the
total of eight new structures would replace the eight destroyed in the fire.
In
addition to building the new cottages, Dorland officials plan in the years
ahead to construct an "art barn," with studio and gallery space, as well as a
community house for gatherings and concerts. Martha Minkler, Dorland's director
of development and rebuilding, says the timeline for construction is fluid: "In
this financial climate it's all about the money."
The new
cottages are modeled on the so-called Katrina cottages, first built in the
Southeast after the deadly hurricane of 2005. They cost about seventy-five
thousand dollars each, Minkler explains, while the two other planned buildings
are significantly more expensive. Dozens of businesses, nonprofit groups, and
individuals have helped fund the rebuilding, but Minkler says the fund-raising
is ongoing.
Set among the hills east of Temecula,
California, the property first served as a haven for artists Robert and Ellen
Dorland. It was converted to a nonprofit artists colony in 1979, and was
celebrating its twenty-fifth anniversary when fire destroyed the buildings,
sparing little but a grove of grand oak trees. (The five artists-in-residence
at the time were evacuated safely.) About twelve hundred writers and artists—American
as well as international visitors—have spent time at Dorland, including
National Book Award-winning poet Jean Valentine, best-selling
author Alice Sebold, and South African novelist Tony Eprile.
Noelle
Sickels, a Los Angeles-based novelist who has stayed at Dorland several
times, says the colony immerses writers in a natural setting that's conducive
to creative work. "From one side of the property there's this hill where you
can see the sun set. If you walk across to another hilltop, there's a place
where you can see the sun rise. It's very beautiful and it's very peaceful and
it has really a magical quality to it. All your everyday distractions are gone.
You're completely alone," she says, noting that residents respect one another's
creative space. "You could spend a whole month there and not talk to another
person."
Julia
Gibson, a writer and Dorland board member who lives in New Mexico, says she,
too, found the colony unusually conducive to inspiration. "A lot of people feel
there's a power there. That happened for me," she says. "It felt like the place
was on my side. It seemed like there was something outside of myself that was
specific to that place." Gibson adds that the new Dorland will be different in
some important ways. For instance, unlike the old cottages, some of which were
built in the early 1930s and quirkily remodeled over the years, the new
cottages will be virtually identical. Dorland's new cottages will have
electricity, whereas the old ones did not.
"I go up to Dorland at least once a month,
so I've been able to see it in progress and get used to the fact that its
really a different Dorland now," Gibson says. "That's okay with me, but I think
for some people it's going to be a really big difference."
For
information about how to help rebuild Dorland—as well as residency application
information—visit dorlandartscolony.org.
Kevin Canfield is a freelance writer in New
York City.
“Dorland was converted to a nonprofit artists colony in 1979, and was celebrating its twenty-fifth anniversary when fire destroyed the buildings, sparing little but a grove of grand oak trees.”
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