Before the Lake – a leather collection for Old Butler, Tennessee
A September study – Volume I-A.
On December 1, 1948 the gates of Watauga Dam closed and the lake rose over Old Butler, Tennessee – over Main Street and the bridge, over the academy and the depot. The town moved uphill and kept living, and it is still called "the town that wouldn't drown." Before the Lake is a leather collection that remembers the town beneath the water.
First, we drew the town back above its waterline. The low stone post office, the Blue Bird Tea Room, a steeple and the tall academy block stand together on a single unbroken line, the lake rippling quietly beneath them, and under the water runs THE TOWN THAT WOULDN'T DROWN – the phrase holds the whole design up.

We pressed it at full size into the base of a golden tan catchall tray, the dish where keys and pocket change land every evening. It looks genuinely beautiful.

The black luggage tag carries the same town in gold foil.

And on the toiletry bags – honeyed russet over deep espresso brown – the stamp sits small and blind-debossed in the lower right corner, the way a remembered thing sits in a pocket.

Next, the steel truss bridge that carried the road into town – panel after open panel, the river running long beneath the deck, OLD BUTLER set in the sky above the span. On a navy luggage tag it runs lengthwise, the whole crossing in one line.


Then Main Street itself: the low post office beside the taller tea room, a 1940s car parked out front – the same paired rhythm the old photographs show. It runs lengthwise on a warm tan tag.


The keychains carry the joke the town told while the water rose: "The next mayor of Butler will be a catfish." We gave the catfish his sash, his year and his stars, and set him on navy and on warm tan, published separately.

Looks great when stamped onto the leather.


And finally, Watauga Academy, whose line began as a seminary in 1871 – the school that gave a mountain town its literary societies and its music, drawn window bay by window bay from a 1920 photograph. A journal is the right place for it: the pages go where the essays and recitations once went. Blind-debossed in the corner of a deep wine journal and a deep green one, published separately.



We made this out of love. Leatherius Woodman is on a mission to create and share artifacts of beauty, craft and love – this study is one of them, and we hope the feeling is mutual. Every image is a render – how we prototype before cutting a die.
If you'd like these made real, or anything here changed – say hello through our contact page.