“Always remember: Deep down, each of you has something you can do to make other people happy. I want you kids to look inside and find what that is and go out and do it.” – Clyde Jones
This is how we will remember our dear friend, arts advocate, and Bynum folk art legend Clyde Jones. When we learned of his passing our hearts ached, yet we are grateful for the legacy he leaves behind. His love of making children, young and old, smile through chainsaw crafted whimsical critters will forever be etched in our hearts.
The Facts: Clyde Jones – Critter Creator
A Chatham County native, Clyde started creating his fanciful dogs, horses, giraffes, elephants, anteaters, aardvarks, and other critters in 1982. His yard in the former mill town of Bynum was full of them. And the world took notice.
From cutting lumber and clearing brush, to losing his left middle finger and crushing his leg with a log, Clyde charted a unique path to the colorful, often sparkly, critters that we know and love. His three-year leg recovery sparked in him the urge to make art. With woodworking skills under his belt, the chainsaw was his tool of choice, and logs his canvas. He later took up painting in 1987 at the age of 49, not signing his works for 10 more years!
Clyde’s critters have been displayed at the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, DC, the American Visionary Art Museum in Baltimore, and as far away as Africa and the Great Wall of China. He made a star appearance in New York City and has been featured in several documentaries. He also created large, textured folk-art paintings.
The curious and beautiful thing about these critters is that they were never for sale. “You can’t buy one, but I like it when people come and take a look,” Clyde would say. Instead, he generously donated them to schools, local non-profits, and folks he took a liking to.
The Festival: ClydeFEST – Celebrating Kids Creativity with Clyde
Since 2002, the Chatham community and the Chatham Arts Council have honored Clyde with a full-day, joy-filled event for children called ClydeFEST. Throughout those years, ClydeFEST has remained true to Clyde’s deeply held belief: “It’s all about the young’uns.” The festival is a day of screen-free fun, where kids and kids-at-heart can get messy painting Critter cut-outs in Critterville and visit a whole slew of community booths to create a multitude of folk art masterpieces.
Clyde would roll up on his lawnmower–or, in later years, in his wheelchair–always most excited to talk to the kids who were creating in that fabulous free-form way. More than a few Chatham County sheds and fences feature the kids’ Critter cut-outs from year after year of ClydeFEST-ing. To celebrate the 15th Annual ClydeFEST back in 2016, we gathered thoughts about Clyde, his Critters, and the ‘FEST, and you can still see those right here. Yes, ClydeFEST was originally created to honor Clyde, but it has become a community gift inspired by Clyde’s creative spirit.
Clyde’s impact on the arts community locally, nationally, and globally will be felt for generations to come.
The Feelings: Clyde Jones – Up Close
From Zen Shoemaker a.k.a. “The Lone Ranger,” former Bynum neighbor
“No one told me what to expect living directly across the street from a famous outsider artist. It isn’t all sunshine and glitter! Over the years we negotiated that Clyde wouldn’t start up his chainsaw before 6:00 a.m. and would sit ‘er down at nightfall. For a while, Clyde’s house was on a national folk art tour and a big ol’ Trailways bus would fill our entire street (no joke), block traffic, and idle while the bus emptied and tourists would visit his yard and his critters. Nope, no one told me what to expect!
Almost daily, Clyde would come over and sit a spell.We’d chat about the neighborhood, about nature, about art–he believed that everyone had art in them; they just had to let it out. Clyde bragged for years about this tree at the back of his lot. It was the biggest of its type in all of Chatham County. One evening, he’s sitting and eating an apple, and he looks over at me and says, “You know my big tree? The worms have eaten all of the leaves off! Not one leaf left.” I say that this seems like the beginning of a joke, and he says sadly, “Nope, they’ve taken over the tree.” And he’s upset about it. I grab my phone and ask if he wants me to call the tree guy or an exterminator. He looks at me–shocked–and says “No!” I say, “But it’s your favorite tree! They can help!” And he looks at me all serious and says, “Worms are nature, too.” That shut me up. “Worms are nature, too.”
Lesley Landis, graphic designer and board chair at the CAC
“My husband, former Pittsboro mayor Randy Voller, heard from Jim Hinkley that Clyde was going to ride his lawn mower from Bynum to downtown Pittsboro and back to sort out a tax issue at the Chatham County tax office. There was no way Randy was going to let Clyde do that, so he drove to Bynum to give Clyde a ride in his truck. At the tax office, Randy offered Clyde support and advice.
With business done, they drove back to Clyde’s house in Bynum, where Clyde told Randy to wait in the truck. Clyde ran inside his house and came back to the truck with a critter that he told Randy to give to me. Clyde said it was in memory of our daughter, Lily McCoy Voller, who died in infancy.
The majority of Clyde’s sculptured critters are fairly big and heavy. I’ve never seen one of Clyde’s critters this small. It’s only a little larger than a car battery, and I cherish it, not just for the piece itself, but for Clyde’s remembrance and gesture of kindness toward a “youn’un” he never knew. This “Lily Critter” is one of my ‘house-is-on-fire-what-do-you-grab’ items and is an enduring example of Clyde’s sensitivity, generosity, and kind heart. I will miss that dear fella.”
From Stephan Meyers, artist, friend, caretaker:
“Goodness. Clyde-y. He was my best bud. So, many memories. Nearly 20 years’ worth. Here’s one for ya: Ya know how Clyde always loved dogs. When I lived there on the “hill,” I had two hound mixes named Wendell and Butters. And boy did they love carrots. Most days, within minutes of me getting home from work, Clyde would be in the driveway revving the engine of his tractor. Funny how he was. Would never knock. Just rev that engine. So, of course I’d invite him in. And he would go straight for the rocker in my front room, plunk down and say, “Gimme some carrots.” He’d then whip out his pocket knife, cut them carrots into chunks, and then chuck those chunks every which way–laughing and laughing as my boys chased around the room gobbling ‘em up. Sweet and simple times. Just me and Clyde and my boys hanging out. Wouldn’t trade it for nothing.”
Gilda McDaniel, Fearrington Folk Art Show co-founder and Chatham Arts Council Board Member
Clyde Jones has been a bright spot in my life since 1988.
I think of funny, quirky things–watching him take a baked potato out of his shirt pocket and eat it like an apple!
I think of the names he called me and friends of mine, names that we still call each other–Hilla, That Girl, Egan, Sesson, Girl (a different one!), and The Baby.
I think of my first encounter with Clyde, then a mysterious celebrity. I was working at a restaurant in Chapel Hill that was frequented by notable people, which was commonplace and therefore not particularly remarkable, although certainly an honor. On my first experience seeing Clyde, a small group of people had assembled outside the front door about half an hour before opening. They were ceremoniously welcomed in and seated at a big table right inside the door–a VIP table of sorts. The staff all greeted the group and particularly fussed over the man in the orange hunting hat who came in for his special serving of “Scrimp and Grits”. I knew then that this was a very special person, but only got to know how very special in the many years after that.
And I think of a particularly personal memory of Clyde that I will always cherish. In 2009, my mother was diagnosed with cancer. Clyde was the second person to hear about my sad and frightening news. The following day, my mother and I were gifted with a good luck Critter that he had named “Hilla 2”. That Critter did its job and my mother was able to survive that illness with flying, Clyde-like colors. I will always be grateful for that act of kindness–and for Hilla 2, who now serves as the Christmas tree in our home. This year, after Clyde left us on Christmas Eve, the lights on Hilla 2 shined a little brighter in his memory.
From Katie Kenlan, former preschool teacher and Chatham County Commissioner
As a child who visited Bynum weekly, I went to his house and explored his yard hundreds of times with my family and friends. But one of the sweetest things was watching my mother help care for him as he aged after a long friendship with him. They were an unlikely duo: she, an environmentalist from Northern California running The Haw River Assembly, and he, an artist and former mill worker. But they loved one another.
One time, when I stopped by her office on his street in Bynum, Clyde came by on his lawn mower and wanted to go to Piggly Wiggly. My mom drove us all into town. The whole way, he was ribbing her and making jokes about her. She’s a tough lady, and it was fun to see someone get away with so much teasing. He and I went into the store together, and when we came out, my mom was trying to figure out which way to legally cut through the parking lot, and she ended up driving in circles several times. By the time Clyde and I got into the car, he was really animated, saying “What is this wild woman up to?! What’s wrong with you, girl? Is this your mother? How are you still alive?” Having to strain to catch each word through his Southern drawl made his jokes even funnier–once you figured out what he was saying. He couldn’t stop talking about her driving around the parking lot the whole way back to Bynum. They were like a sweeter version of the muppet duo Statler and Waldorf.
I wish I could put into words how my identity and worldview were shaped by growing up knowing Clyde Jones. I’m thankful I grew up in a community insulated by artists and art lovers. In a world obsessed with consumerism and status, Clyde was a grounding force. His passion for creating art and creating joy for children is something we need more of in this world.
Molly Matlock, past Executive Director of the CAC
“Our second year in Bynum, we owned a flatbed truck for our business. This was back when Clyde welcomed new Bynum residents with a signature deer sculpture bejeweled with silk floral eyes. We could only retain our housewarming treasure under the condition that it remain in Bynum–even if we didn’t.
One day, on a walk, we stopped to chat with Clyde on his porch, the same one that bore numerous photographs of enamored fans along with a thank you note from Mikhail Baryshnikov, complete with the very publicly displayed ballet icon’s home address.
Clyde was animated and feigning upset that our most recent Bynum newcomer had visited him earlier that morning. He didn’t take to her because when he offered her a deer sculpture, she asked, “Well, thank you, but could I get one of your giraffe sculptures instead?” He found this uppity. After pausing a few beats, he asked us, “Hey, how would you like a ‘raffe?”
Naturally, I declined and gushed that “I couldn’t possibly!” He retorted, “Naw, I wanna . . . but only if you drive it past her house on the back of your truck, honk loud and make sure she seen it.” We did, all the while waving like Queen Elizabeth. By the time we returned home, our voicemail was loaded with messages from neighbors asking, “Is it true? Did you really get a giraffe?” I’ve rarely felt so proud.”
Alice Zincone, Art Educator and Musician
“I first met Clyde at Capt. John’s Seafood. Friends would bring Clyde for dinner on the nights Carolina Lightnin’ played (Tommy Edwards, me, and Rick Lafleur). Clyde was a big supporter and loved to tease Tommy, heckling him to “be quiet now and let the purty gurl sang.”
At a certain point during this time of playing at Capt. John’s, I joined the staff of the Gov. Morehead School for the Blind as their art teacher. Molly Matlock and I developed a program sponsored by the Chatham Arts Council to bring Clyde to the school and create a couple of critters with the students. He set up his chainsaws, gas can, and logs. Clyde would work his saw, cutting or texturing while the student froze at the sound and smell of the gasoline or covered their ears. After each step of the cutting process, he stopped the chain saw and engaged the students. We gave each of the students shavings to smell and told them of cedar’s anti-pest properties and how Clyde only used cedar wood. He stopped several other times to ask the students how he should nail a part, ear or tail, onto the form in progress. He encouraged the students to touch the pieces of wood, and he would angle them differently.
He seemed unfazed that he was working with kids with visual impairment to help him design the critters. It was a magical experience. He was a magical being.”
Debbie Bousquet, former Chatham Arts Council Board Member and ClydeFEST Production Manager
On a Spring day back in 2005, several of us Chatham Arts Council board members had been given the task of delivering two of Clyde’s ‘Raffs to the Governor’s Mansion in Raleigh. After the ‘Raffs were loaded up at Clyde’s house, we headed to the big city. I was fortunate to have him join me in my pick up truck, along with one of the ‘Raffs in back. Clyde being Clyde, he wasn’t particularly impressed by where we were going. His only concerns were the plan for caring for the two ‘Raffs and the plan for installation once we got there. After we arrived and the two ‘Raffs were unloaded, his concerns disappeared thanks to the charm of First Lady Mary Easley. They chatted, Clyde flirted, and it was as though they had known each other for years. It was such fun to witness as Clyde had met his match!
From Peter Loose, friend and fellow folk artist:
I met Clyde at a Ginger Young Gallery open house, [and] my life changed. I called him my little brother, [and] he always responded, “Gaw you are big.” I have quite a book to write about our friend Clyde.
From Diane Swan, Bynum neighbor and creative woodworker:
I initially moved to Bynum in 1980, [and] when I moved back in 2006 . . . we often cut out critters together. In 2008, the community got together at the Bynum General Store for the first turtle painting day to put up [Critter signs] around Bynum to “SLO Down” fast cars. Clyde “taught us” all how to paint critters. Over the years, I created patterns from his paintings which got passed on for community events and Clydefest. Now everyone loves painting critters! Clyde’s unique vision has given us all a gentle perspective and a respect of critters–and each other.
Cheryl Chamblee, Executive Director of the Chatham Arts Council
I’m gonna talk about Clyde’s life by talking about his funeral: A little church on Highway 64, every seat full. Folks with a little money, folks with a lot of money. People from all along the political spectrum, and the spiritual spectrum, too. Some who had known Clyde all their lives, some who had met him only in his final years in assisted living. And every one of us with a smile because of the joy and delight folk artist Clyde Jones brought us.
Clyde wasn’t just present in a community; Clyde created community with his presence. We saw it in action every single year at ClydeFEST; we felt it in the way his neighbors and friends cared for him in his later years; and oh boy, I was reminded of it that day at Clyde’s funeral service.
I was reminded that the way you show up for children–even children you don’t know–can impact them for their whole entire lives. I was reminded that art can bring people together–even people who are very different from one another. And I was reminded that it’s so very important to be you, to show up in the world as the unique person that you are, without overmuch regard for what other folks expect of you. That’s what Clyde Jones did, and Clyde made a difference in the world–and in our world.
These recollections are so sweet and lovely moments in the life and send off of the one-of-a-kind Clyde Jones.