A SWEEPING SUCCESS
Handcrafted corn brooms hold an enduring appeal — and do a fine job of cleaning floors
By the time she ties, weaves, sews and photographs her art, Alyssa Blackwell has invested hours into each piece. She regularly restocks her online shop, but the items sell out almost immediately. Blackwell, of course, wants customers to display her pieces. But as the artist behind Hearth Craft Brooms, she hopes her colourful, intricately woven sweepers also will be used to, well, sweep.
Blackwell, who is based in Eugene, Ore., has an Instagram following of more than 113,000.
“I wouldn't consider myself an influencer, but I guess I do want to influence people to use handmade brooms,” she says. “They're so much better, and can bring so much enrichment and joy to the process of taking care of your space.”
Brooms like Blackwell's, made of natural materials, shaped by hand and tied with string, might seem old-fashioned and quaint — the kind of tool your grandparents used. But broom craft, far from being a lost art, is growing in popularity. And those who make the switch might find their floors — and their souls — a bit better for it.
“People have been sweeping throughout pretty much all of human history,” Blackwell says. “Cave men were probably using sticks to clear out their caves. Sweeping is a universal human act.”
In fact, says Georgia-based artist and broom-making instructor Mark Hendry, the word “broom” comes from early sweeping implements made from genista, a family of shrubby plants colloquially known as “broom.”
The dirt floors of historic homes required daily sweeping to keep them clean and compacted.
“People would say, `Go grab some broom,' so the word `broom' and sweeping became synonymous,” he says.
Later brooms sometimes used willow branches, reeds, flax or other materials gathered into a bundle and tied to a stick.
“They weren't long-lasting, but they were functional,” Hendry says.
Major innovation didn't come to broom-making until the late 18th century, when farmers in the United States began growing a variety of sorghum, a stiff-stemmed grain known as broomcorn. Some credit Benjamin Franklin with introducing it to the colonies.
“The Library of Congress has several letters where Franklin mentions the benefits of broomcorn as a crop and advises people to grow it,” Hendry says.
But other accounts say sorghum arrived in North America with enslaved Africans, who braided seeds from the native plant into their hair.
By the first half of the 1800s, farmers across the Northeast and throughout Appalachia were growing broomcorn, and the American broom-making industry was booming. Each year, millions were produced for local sale and export around the world.
Different communities made the broom their own.
“There's something called a cobwebber — long pieces of broomcorn tied onto a long handle — and that's from Appalachia,” Hendry says. “They had wooden cabins with lofts, and they needed this broom to reach up into the corners.”
In Upstate New York, the Christian sect known as Shakers gave the broom its next great innovation.
“They realized when they pushed those round brooms flat, they swept better,” Hendry says. “They developed a vice to hold the broomcorn flat, then sewed it in place to keep the shape.”
The Shaker-style broom quickly became ubiquitous in shops, including the broomcraft studio at Berea College in Kentucky, the oldest continually operating broom-making operation in the country.
By the 1950s, synthetic fibre brooms were becoming popular, and production of broomcorn in the U.S. slowed nearly to a stop.
The 15 students who now work in the Berea shop sell around 5,000 brooms a year. Though plastics dominate the industry, the corn broom is making a comeback as more people enrol in folk schools to learn the craft, Hendry says.
Between 2020 and 2021, according to data platform the Observatory of Economic Complexity, corn broom sales jumped by more than $10 million.
The brooms from Berea's shop start at US$65. Blackwell's smallest pieces — hand-held “whisks” — go for just under $80, and most of her full-sized brooms are $430.
For those who are curious enough to make the switch, but not quite ready to commit to the price tag, a basic broom can be had for between $30 and $50 at many farmers markets or a retailer like Lehman's.
A 2018 survey found that more than half of U.S. consumers replace their brooms at least once every two years. Of course, that's not a huge investment: Big-box stores sell synthetic brooms for $15 or less. But corn brooms, Blackwell says, are built to last.
“Plastic bristles get mashed up and full of debris and bacteria and you can never really clean it out,” she says. “One of the amazing things about natural brooms is they don't really hang onto the dirt and hair, which makes you feel like you're actually using an effective cleaning tool.”
A sturdy wooden handle only gets more polished over years of use, and a broom that's hung properly and stored in a dry place will last, essentially, forever.
“It's an heirloom piece you can pass down to your children, maybe your children's children,” Hendry says. “It has longevity.”
Blackwell says most of her customers identify as either witches or pagans. Perhaps that's unsurprising, given the long historic and cultural connection between brooms and witchcraft. Blackwell says she believes the trope has such staying power because “in some ways, it's tied to femininity and deriving power from your domestic roles.”
Blackwell came to broomcraft while reeling from a pregnancy loss and wrestling with her identity as a wife and mother.
“I was just struggling as a stay-athome mom to feel fulfilled and like my role was significant,” she says. “After our miscarriage, my mom gifted me a handmade broom from one of our local markets. I fell in love with it.”
Many cultures have broom-related superstitions and spiritual practices, Hendry says.
“Cleansing rituals are so basic across religions,” he says. “It's even mentioned in the Bible. In many cultures, brooms are considered powerful energy clearers; you always hang a broom by the door to keep negative energy out. There's all kinds of folklore and meanings around falling brooms, if you put the broom inside or outside, how you sweep and when you sweep.”
Even if you don't assign it a greater meaning, Hendry adds, a daily sweeping session can offer a moment of reflection.
“In the age of the Roomba, there are still people who are sweepers,” he says, “because sometimes slowing down with something like sweeping gives you time to think, like an act of meditation. Isn't that what mindfulness is? Slowing down and focusing on your intention and noticing things both inside and outside of yourself.”
Ultimately, there's a simple magic, Blackwell says, in having beautiful things in your home, and embracing items that are both practical and pretty.
“Everyday objects should bring joy into your life,” she says.