Growing up with my badass grandmother: famed York County artist Lorann Jacobs

Lorann Jacobs - the creator of The Tinker among many other York County sculptures - is a different kind of grandmother. This past Christmas, she got me a switchblade knife. Dangerous? Yes. But now legal in Pennsylvania, she thought it would be “fun” (I’m in agreement).

Step into her basement art studio in Dallastown, and it’s dripping with hot, red wax - her medium for sculptures. As a kid, I’d watch her aim a blowtorch at the ribcage of a lion, for example, to melt the wax into what is now Leo the Lion in the lobby of Red Lion Area Senior High School. 

I’ve witnessed this slender, 5’ 4” woman independently wrestle sculptures in and out of her black Jeep Wrangler. Relying on no one but herself and her own ingenuity, she’d employ pulleys and levers to heave her masterpiece into perfect place. This was the only way for her to get bronze pieces from the foundry to places like the Cat and the fiddle nursery rhyme sculptures in Martin Library’s children section. 

Although she doesn’t like it, I’ll call her “Mom-mom” for the rest of this article. (A few years ago, she actually called me, asking something like, “Uhh, you know… you’re not a kid anymore. Maybe call me Lorann?” Unfortunately for her, she helped raise a sometimes stubborn, head-strong little girl.)

Over the years, I’ve seen her alchemy visions from her imagination transform into beautiful, life-size sculptures. The Tinker near York’s Gift Horse Brewery, Lafayette outside of West Market Street’s Plough Tavern, the Vietnam Memorial at York Expo Center in the fairgrounds, to name a few. With all this fame, it may seem like Mom-mom was always a respected artist. But there was a time when she was harassed for her work. 

Mom-mom started working with metal at a foundry in Lancaster in the late 1980s. She remembers a few of her male coworkers coughing in her face or calling her derogatory names. Even worse, some would intentionally sabotage her work. As she walked past them carrying a piece of art, they’d rush to push doors open, hitting her and hoping the piece would break.

These hardships reinforced a sense of tenacity and determination. No one, she thought, would ever stop her from creating art. 

I’m 33 years old and recently went through a career shift. Turns out that Mom-mom didn’t know she was meant for bronze-work until she was 32! She met an affluent woman in Pittsburgh to whom she sold a horse. She showed my grandmother her art studio and a wax sculpture of a horse. Mom-mom thought, “I have to find a way to do this.” And she did. She still feels fortunate that she found something she loves to do that also pays her bills.

It wasn’t until adulthood that I appreciated the lengths to which my grandmother crafted original pieces. No disrespect to my readers who like scrapbooking, but Mom-mom has hand-chiseled a plank of wood into a driveway sign. She’s welded a decorative wheelbarrow for my flowers. She assembled a very heavy iron arbor for my wedding ceremony. All of these original creations. It doesn’t matter the material, she’ll gouge wood or bend metal into the shape that suits her artistic vision. Simply put — she’s badass. 

With those scarred and callused hands comes a tenderness. She’s made everything from my Christening dress to the unveiling drapery for the new monument at York’s City Cemetery in North York. Mom-mom has a green thumb, too. Those same fingers that manipulate metal will twist the delicate tendril of a clematis vine onto her handmade lattice.

Her genius generates eccentricities. On a few occasions, she missed family events from the timewarp that became her studio. It hasn’t happened in quite some time, but she’s left us wondering if she got into an accident or simply forgot the time. 

When this happened, my mom, Anastasia Denoncourt, would explain that Mom-mom would find herself in her own world, fully absorbed. “If we didn’t have people like her,” she says, “we wouldn't have beautiful things surrounding us.” Mom-mom recently told me that her parents got her hearing tested when she was a kid. “They thought I couldn’t hear,” she said. “But I just didn’t want to listen.” 

Her talent manifests in metal, but not so much her wording. When my premature son came home from the NICU, she said, “I’m so glad. We didn’t think he would survive.” Uhh, thanks Mom-mom? While her radical candor is odd at times, she always means well. Deep down, I love that she’s so raw and unfiltered. 

Mom-mom instilled in me a mindset of self-determination. There’s nothing I can’t learn or do. I believe in my capabilities thanks to my grandmother who role-modeled independence. But unfortunately, her talent did not transfer to my genetics. But what didn’t get too diluted was her love of storytelling. So, we’re partnering on a one-of-a-kind program. 

Join Mom-mom and the Hometown History team at 2 p.m. on June 1 at Indian Steps Museum in Airville to hear more of her stories. (Details: http://www.indiansteps.org/). In a rare tell-all, she’s agreed to share the behind-the-scenes story behind her work at Indian Steps and some of York County’s most beloved sculptures. 

Jamie C. Noerpel is Community Impact Manager with LogosWorks Partners and a co-founder of the Hometown History video series.