He transforms gourds into detailed pieces of art
Retiree delves into ancient methods, finishing more than 300 unique creations and competing with other enthusiasts
SAN ANTONIO — Hunkered over his workbench, David Cleaveland takes dried, hard-skin gourds and turns them into art.
Part of his garage studio wall is stacked high with all shapes and sizes of the squash-like plant. Deer antlers, acrylic paint, twine and masking tape, a few of his decorative items, are within reach.
The retiree spends more than eight hours, three days a week, delving into the ancient art practiced by indigenous people in Africa, the Americas and Asia. He uses modern-power tools, some the size of a toothbrush, to etch, carve and burn designs into gourds that become baskets, dolls and sculptures.
The work moves slowly along, mostly during the day. Occasionally, on a tight deadline, he’ll pull his garage door down and work until midnight, accompanied by the strains of country music or chatter of a late night-talk show playing from a nearby silver radio.
“If I have some stress I need to relieve, I come out here and work on the gourd for a while, and it’s gone,” Cleaveland said.
Cleaveland, 77, is president of the Texas Gourd Society (texasgourdsociety.org), which will host the Lone Star Gourd Festival in Fredericksburg, Oct. 1-3, at the Gillespie County Fairgrounds.
The festival celebrates the fine art of gourd craft with 50 exhibitors, vendor booths and workshops by nationally renowned artists. More than 1,000 visitors are expected at the festival, which will feature a best-of-show competition.
“It’s a gathering of gourd enthusiasts,” Cleaveland said. “It’s amazing what some of the artists can do.”
Last year’s festival was canceled because of the pandemic. This year, the event will continue with masks and hand sanitizer available to guests.
Cleaveland uses gourds he dries all winter long. In the spring, he cleans away the hard, brown skin for sanding or painting. Then he cuts open the top and scrapes out the seeds and stringy fiber until it’s smooth inside.
Since taking up artistic customs that date back to the prehistoric era, he’s finished more than 300 gourds and received several awards that include best of division in 2016. Cleaveland’s most recent piece, titled “Bear Fetish Bowl,” is one of his high-end pieces, inlaid with aluminum shavings, turquoise stones and a stone, fetish on the top. He said the bowl will run for $500 at the festival.
Art has always been part of Cleaveland’s life.
Oil painting on canvas took up most of his spare time until he married and began raising a family. Cleaveland put his paint brushes away until 2010 when he retired from 35 years as a commercial sales contractor who supplied floor coverings to clients that included hospitals, schools, churches and office buildings.
Up to that point, the only gourds Cleaveland had seen were on the old western TV show “Gunsmoke,” when parched cowboys would scoop water from a bucket with a ladle-shaped gourd.
That changed in 2014, when Cleaveland and his wife were caring for her mother in Polaski, Tenn. He became curious about the art form while watching a woman on a TV show talk about a gourd art fest. Cleaveland attended the event and spoke to an artist about the process. She sold him a big plastic bag bulging with cut off gourd tops and bottoms for $3.
“Here,” the woman said, “see what you can do.”
Cleaveland built 21 bird houses from the pieces. Since then, he’s made a variety of items that include statuettes, Christmas ornaments and masks. Cleaveland’s most unique creation was a gourd that grew like a goose bending its long neck in a tear-drop shape.
Judy Richie, one of the featured artists at the festival, creates art in a studio that encompasses two storage rooms and a garage.
In a release, Richie, 82, said gourds offer many creative roads an artist can take.
“It’s really my passion,” she said, “and offers such satisfaction when you figure out a solution to a tricky problem.”
Sometimes, Cleaveland said, the gourd decides which path to take. He said he has sketched out designs and planned a set course of action, only to find himself going in a different direction.
“You’ve heard people say this about artwork, and I didn’t know if I believed it, but I do now,” Cleaveland said. “The piece tells you what it wants to be. It’s a real thing.”