C.S. Peirce Loves Craft Beers: Indexicality and the Anchoring of Craft in Place

Abstract

We present a perspective on the potential of craft production to strengthen place brands and vice versa, in a positive dynamic enabling local community development. Tradition and innovation are not constructed as mutually exclusive. The perspective is semiotically inspired, more precisely by the work of C.S. Peirce (1839–1914). We expand on Peirce by including concepts of narrative and place brand in our framing of craft potential, but for the key aspect of conceptualizing the rooting of craft products in place, we rely on Peirce, giving central place to his concept of indexicality. Examples from the Canadian province of Alberta, especially its burgeoning craft beer sector, serve to illustrate this theoretical perspective with a variety of practical implications for food policy, tourism, planning, and economic development.

Introduction

Craft has always been many things to many people. Since at least the 19th century, when the aspirations of John Ruskin gave rise to the Arts and Craft movement, expectations have often been high (Crawford, 1990; Minar & Crown, 2001). Craft has been proposed to save rural communities, lost professions, shaky neighborhoods, disappearing local products and knowledges (Myles et al., 2020; Reid, 2021; Throgmorton, 2007; Toraldo et al., 2018; Varutti, 2015). Meanwhile, what counts as “craft” has changed dramatically over time and is highly diverse in its definitions and the contexts in which it is applied (Davoudi & Madanipour, 2015; Gaffey, 2017; Van Assche & Hornidge, 2015). The skillfully, and artfully, rendered handmade goods of carpenters, glazers, quilters, and leather workers have more recently been joined by craft producers of food and drink, and even craft services (McHattie et al., 2019; Morgan et al., 2022; Paxson, 2012). It is clear then, that speaking of what craft “is” only gets one so far in understanding its growth and appeal. More useful, in our view, is to discern what is understood as craft in a particular context, to see how the concept is connected to larger narratives and ambitions, and importantly, which effects it has (cf Manning, 2010, 2012; Spence, 1982).

To appreciate the value of connecting context to craft, we can note that “craft” only makes sense when a distinction is invoked (Morgan et al., 2022; Palmsköld, 2021). The nature of the distinction then draws attention to, or creates different features of, craft. If “craft” designation is based on a distinction with industrial production, then uniqueness and small-scale production will be emphasized. If the distinction is with a globalized production chain, then its local character will be foregrounded. If the distinction is with disruptive innovation, then tradition and community might be highlighted. Craft might contrast unique versus mass produced; empowered versus alienated labor; quality versus disposable; and so on (Cipollaro et al., 2021; Fox Miller, 2017; Jones et al., 2021).

Because craft designations are often differentiated from less appreciated and more common forms of production, craft products often make direct reference to the other side of the distinction. They assert an identity, in other words, in relation to their opposite. For instance, we drink locally made “craft” beer as a type of resistance to the terrible and ubiquitous lager made by the multinational brewer (Konnelly, 2020; Manning & Uplisashvili, 2007; Morgan et al., 2022). The opposite which is most likely to be invoked will be produced by the dominant distinction: this is our beer because it is not imported, or because it is not lager, or not placeless and faceless (Poelmans & Swinnen, 2018; Södergren, 2021). Besides a badge of honor and identification, the craft product can also be a sign of hope: we can maintain quality amid industrial low-grade horror, or we hope we can maintain tradition amid turmoil and uprooting (Beauregard, 2020; McHattie et al., 2019; Throgmorton, 2007).

Using the predicate “craft”—adopting the label—is a rhetorical, and potentially political, choice (Black and Burisch, 2021; Eberts, 2014; Konnelly, 2020; Throgmorton, 2003) with implications for the brand of a product and/or of the communities and landscapes with which it is associated (Manning, 2012; Paulauskaite et al., 2017; Pfannes et al., 2021; Throgmorton, 2007). It is helpful, precisely because of the polyvalent and rhetorical/political meaning of craft, to approach “craft” as an activity of meaning production, and the implication of both product and place brands in these processes (Hede & Watne, 2013; Paxson, 2012; Van Assche et al., 2020). A place might attempt to reinvent itself, or retain an old identity, based on craft production, while craft production might more easily take off in places with brands linked to tradition, quality, or a particular ingredient (Bell, 2017; Giovanardi et al., 2013; Toraldo et al., 2018).

In this paper, we focus, both conceptually and empirically, on the anchoring of craft in place. Drawing on a mixed-method qualitative study of craft breweries in Alberta, Canada, we explore why “craft” matters, and how it works at different levels. This empirical material, drawn from a wider study of craft food industries and alternate values of development (Pacholok, 2023), is selectively adopted as a sounding board to examine our argument that the insertion of the mediating concept of place brand can help further deepen our understanding of the relationship between craft and place. To help make sense of this now triangular relation—between place, place brand and craft—we take inspiration from the interpretation theory, or semiotics, of C.S. Peirce. This effort requires us to introduce a set of Peircean concepts to the analysis.

Peirce is helpful to us, because his perspective on interpretation is more than that. As we will see, his ideas span the entire process of signification, from the first suggestion, or feeling, that something could be meaningful, to the delineation of ideas and signs, and the anchoring of those ideas in social and spatial realities. We will mobilize a series of Peircean concepts for the understanding of craft, in its reliance on place, and the implications for the (re-)building of community. We remain open here for a variety of craft definitions and uses, in line with the previous paragraphs, which means that sometimes, the technicality of process and ingredients comes to the foreground, and elsewhere we are dealing more with stories about place, landscape, and history. The paper thus adds to the various literatures, which are engaged with. It distinguishes itself by its broader deployment of Peircean semiotics (see below), an agnostic use of place branding (neither hyper-critical nor neo-liberal panacea) and an emphasis on the work that can be done, and needs to be done, by communities and their entrepreneurs, to become aware of their own anchoring in time, stories and space. This can in turn permit them to determine which version of brand and craft might be realistic, appropriate and desirable in a given context.

In the following paragraphs, we first introduce the work of Charles Sander Peirce and his interpretation theory and explain our selection of concepts in terms of the craft theme. Here, we pay particular attention to extend a reading of Peirce, by working in our notion of brand. After which we introduce the Canadian Province of Alberta and its craft beer scene through our empirical research.

C.S. Peirce, Craft and Authenticity: Semiotic Notions

C.S. Peirce (1839–1914), American philosopher and mathematician, co-founder of semiotics, or general interpretation theory, understood the world as made up of signs. People, he argued, know the world through interpretation, and require signs to act as vehicles in the production of meaning (Bal & Bryson, 1991; Eco, 1986; Zoest, 1978). Anything can potentially be a sign, but only as articulated within a culture, through which a variety of sign systems operate and share rules of signification. Those rules, however, are never stable across time and context, so the meaning of a sign is never itself entirely stable, and never finished. Signs can be composite, as a sentence, or a novel. Moreover, as particularly relevant for this paper, a combined narrative and an image of place can function as a sign, as well as a context for other signs (Cullum-Swan & Manning, 1994; Eco, 1979).

Signs refer to objects which are, for Peirce, discursively constructed. They can correlate with physical objects, or not (Stroud & Jegels, 2014; Van Assche et al., 2012). Of interest for our present discussion is the way Peirce understands the relation between sign and object. A sign can resemble its object in a relation he calls iconic (Bal & Bryson, 1991; Peirce, 1868). A beer label can show a mountain, for instance, which happens to exist near the brewery. In order for this reference to work, it also needs to have a symbolic character, as even the printed mountain is only understood to resemble a mountain on the basis of conventions, or cultural codes (Eco, 1986). The localized reference is only possible because there are words on the label, and the unity of the label suggests that the words and the drawing have to be interpreted together. What makes the interpretation of the beer (the beer becoming a sign) as local, from near the mountain, more persuasive is an indexical aspect of the relation between the beer and the place, a relation, in Peircean terms of contiguity (Manning, 2010; Peirce, 1904/1977). There needs to be a real connection between the sign and its referent, and that connection can be a direct contact, a touch, or a causal link with the materiality referred to. An indexical sign can be a physical mark, such as a footprint in the snow, or an indirect trace, for example, a flock of birds scared by a passer-by (Eco & Sebeok, 1983).

Crafts commonly utilize iconic references. Products can still look the same as a long time ago, imbuing them with tradition. Aging can be dissimulated. Packaging and marketing can contribute to the appearance of something as crafted (often: as older), or more powerfully to emphasize the history and authenticity of an actual craft product as such (Ewing et al., 2012; Farrelly et al., 2019; Piazza, 2016). A production space looking like an old workshop, a retro barber shop, a retro barber, utilize iconicity to suggest craft; here the product (e.g., the beard) can resemble the beard of yesteryear, and the person and place of production resembling the old crafting imply a causal relation, an indexical relation (Grayson & Martinec, 2004; Melewar & Skinner, 2020). Historical references can be iconic, and the iconicity can serve the purpose of reinforcing the idea of authenticity, hence indexicality (Maxim & Chasovschi, 2021; Van Assche et al., 2012; Zoest, 1978).

A craft product might be invented in the contemporary moment as well, with or without recourse to history and tradition, by using one of the distinctions highlighted earlier (Eberts, 2014; Fox Miller, 2017; Gatrell et al, 2018; Paxson, 2012). Connections with place can be strengthened, for instance, by emphasizing its materiality; its climate, its soil, or its geography. Symbolic values related to local cultures, peoples, or economies might be invoked or reinforced. And, all of these aspects can be layered through complex, but readily understood, narratives. A craft distillery in Edmonton Alberta, for instance, packages its products in bottles shaped like historic oil rigs, “paying tribute to [the Province’s] rich history of both agriculture and resource development,” while also leaning into contemporary narratives concerning the local quality of the grains they use, and commonly evoked, and positively eschewed, values of rural and blue-collar communities (see Blue, 2008).

While place is often a central association for many craft products, it is also the case that many craft products make no direct association to local places at all. Craft economies do not naturally spring from locality and place, in other words, but craft and place are connected by place brands through a series of visual, cultural, or discursive associations. Invoking “craft” conjures up a direct relation between a product and a context; a relation which by adopting the Peircean perspective, can be described as contiguous or causal, and indexical (Manning, 2010; Manning & Uplisashvili, 2007; Silverstein, 2021). Locality, community, heritage, spatial authenticity, materials or ingredients, even tools, all loom large in the production of a beer, spirit, or a brisket as craft products. A craft beer (hopefully) relays an experience of quality, identity and place ascribed to it, relying on indexical and symbolic references. These might include stories about a place, about the product, an ingredient, or a method by which a product is “crafted.” Each reinforces the meaning of the indexical relationship itself (Danesi, 2013; Fletchall, 2016). Stories about the place can crystallize the interpretation of a chain linking the place to the product and imbuing place and/or product with interest. For Fletchall (2016), studying craft beer consumption in Montana, marketing narratives, such as those associated with the state’s natural attributes, coalesce and become most meaningful when a craft beer is consumed locally while visiting a brewery’s taproom.

We propose place branding as a mediating concept, since an effort to coordinate narratives, activities and physical appearance of a place (as in place branding) can help to anchor a product in a place, through shared narratives and indexical links (Cipollaro et al., 2021; Kavaratzis, 2012; Manning, 2010; Van Assche et al., 2020). We understand place brands as attempts to capture the expression of a place (Zenker, 2011) to attract commerce, development, or human talent, as some examples. While conversely, forms of localized production, which can be branded as craft and local, can enhance the place brand (Sang, 2021; Södergren, 2021). Moreover, as we will see in our case example, place branding can be entwined within communities themselves, tapping into the character of a neighborhood, and at the same time reinforcing it.

Peirce can help us conceptualize the early stages of both place branding and craft production. That is, when the product does not exist yet, or has not been marketed as a craft product. When the community has made no conscious effort in discerning, or solidifying, a place brand, something has to be created (cf Giovanardi et al., 2013; Stroud & Jegels, 2014). For Peirce, signification starts with vagueness, which is also potentiality. Peirce speaks of firstness, a pure quality of something (a color), or a pure feeling (and emotion), not attached to a person or situation (Peirce, 1903/2024; Eco, 1986). When firstness is related to something (white snow, happy because of X), one can speak of secondness and when a rule of interpretation or a category is invoked, one arrives at thirdness. Thirdness is the result of abstraction, leading to continuity, norms, rules, and types. Yet, in a real-life interpretation, thirdness serves as an intermediary between first and second (Bal & Bryson, 1991).

The categories or rules of interpretation arrived at, in a culture, over time, are the tools at a given time, to come to any interpretation. Firstness cannot be easily communicated, and poetry is one of the traditional paths to open up rigid interpretations and reveal states of firstness (Ibri, 2022). The firstness of a flavor never tried before cannot be repeated, as comparisons with other flavors sneak in, and, as in the case of wine, a world of stories, distinctions of flavor, and social distinctions. Yet firstness cannot be entirely vanquished, and a potential for reinterpretation remains (Eco, 1979; Sonesson, 2013). In marketing, firstness can be carefully cultivated, as different sign systems (image, music, poetry, and prose) can be combined to conjure up an attractive image which establishes certain connections between its elements, and certain links between sign and meaning, yet leaves other connections open for interpretation (Giovanardi et al., 2013; Lindström et al., 2013). Atmosphere, feeling, suggestion of quality allow for projection, and it is hoped by marketeers, identification (Manning, 2010; Zhou et al., 2022).

A new product in a place with a relatively short (settler) history, as in Alberta, cannot as easily rely on references to tradition, or derive value from old place brands, as in other parts of the world. Nevertheless, we are not dealing with pure firstness, as place narratives do exist, as markets are interpreted as being ripe for new and local craft products, and as local conditions, in terms of climate, agricultural production, knowledge traditions point at a potential for certain products and certain linkages with place. Pure potentiality, in other words, does not have to be conquered, or shaped, and positive constraints for the creation of new things that will be interpreted as product, as craft, as meaningfully local, always exist. Whereas the whole sector of “craft products” can be understood as experimental, struggling to assert its place against dominant forms of production, the consumer in making a purchase in a particular place, can learn from this collective experiment, in moving from firstness, to secondness, and thirdness (cf Fletchall, 2016; Grenni et al., 2020; Minar & Crown, 2001; Mittag, 2014).

In the case of new craft products in a 21^st-century context, and even in the absence of deep histories of local craft production, there is a weight of tradition, a history of expectations for craft products as such and for each kind of product, for example, beer (Konnelly, 2020; Reid, 2021). That entails that craft beer cannot be a beer simply presenting itself as beer. Craft beer has to suggest difference and quality, by conjuring up images and atmospheres, by establishing connections with identities and lifestyles presumed to exist, and by indicating place. In Peircean terms, new craft production requires careful management of what he calls the “dynamic interpretant” (Eco, 1979, 1986; Peirce, 1904/1977), meaning the overall and immediate effect of the product on the consumer, an effect that cannot be reduced to the application of a set of shared rules of interpretation. The name, the appearance of the beer bottle, the context where it is sold or consumed, the taste itself have to merge into a series of dynamic interpretants which are experienced as a whole (Gatrell et al., 2018; Giovanardi et al., 2013; Hansen, 2010; Keane, 2003).

Craft Evolutions in Alberta, Canada

The empirical material presented in this section is selectively drawn from a qualitative study of the emergence of craft beverage and food development in Alberta, Canada (see, Pacholok, 2023), part of a larger project on rural development and agricultural innovation in Alberta (see also Tymczak, 2025). This research explored the ways in which craft producers brought alternate values of development and community to their work, including those such as conviviality, slowness and localism associated with de-growth scholarship (Cosme et al., 2017; Fournier, 2008; Kallis et al., 2015). Our conceptual interests precede our empirical representations in this paper, yet by revisiting the empirical case through a new lens, we hope to offer a creative means of scrutinizing our arguments and provide insight into the ways in which these concepts come together in practice. Our use of quotations, drawn from qualitative interviews, illustrate the developing theoretical argument, hence neither as its proof, nor what is to be explained by the theory. Theory, however, is intended to clarify the positioning of communities with regards to very practicable policy orientations.

From the original study, we draw here on discussions with a subset of brewers (N = 5), distillers (N = 3), cideries (N = 1), and a custom malter (N = 1). The data we present are abstracted from semi-structured interviews, although the larger project connected interviews with photovoice methods, a focus group discussion, and site visits. Interviews on average took between 60 and 90 minutes and were conducted both virtually (due to Covid restrictions) and in person. All were recorded, transcribed and analyzed using thematic content analysis (Hsieh & Shannon, 2005). The interviews explored participants’ rationales and understandings of the craft work they were involved in, and then explored these against ideas of degrowth as presented by Brossman and Islar (2020). Key themes drawn from interviews for the wider project included: (a) the challenges of defining degrowth; (b) the hidden costs of conventional production on producers; (c) alternate business development strategies; (d) politics and production; (e) networks and collaboration; and (f) localism and craft citizenship. The extracted material presented in this paper was selectively drawn from across this broader analysis, focussing in particular on discussions of localness, representations of place, craft, and community.

Alberta, Canada’s Westernmost prairie Province, has been experiencing a boom of the craft beer sector. A decade ago, the Provincial beer scene was dominated by large domestic brewers, with only a few upstart regional craft brewers struggling to carve out a retail market for their products. Today, there are an estimated 150 craft brewers operating within the Province, and this number is continuing to grow. ¹ Here Alberta, despite being a little late to the game, is following trends seen across Canada where despite a beer drinking market which continues to face ongoing challenges and increasing competition, craft breweries have consistently increased market share and supported by increased consumer preference for their products (Weersink et al., 2018). Today retail shelves boast a myriad of products in colorful cans, with equally colorful names, brewed in cities and towns from across the Province. Each brewer struggles to carve out a space and identity, demarcating their product as craft, building a unique profile within an increasingly crowded marketplace. Craft brewers spend considerable effort upon the ongoing exercise of creating a layered experience of their product, both to distinguish themselves from non-craft forms of production, but also from one another in a market crowded by start-ups.

Inspired by the Peircean triad, in what follows we explore the semiotic constitution of “craft” in relation to: (a) locality, and ideas of local authenticity; (b) place narratives and storytelling; and (c) to the production of craft communities. We conclude by critically reflecting on the semiotics of craft in relation to place branding and craft marketing, before offering conclusions on how thinking about craft symbolism informs thinking about the development of strong craft futures.

Alberta, while largely known as the home of the Canadian oilsands and energy industry, is also part of Canada’s agricultural heartland. The symbolic connection between the Province and agriculture has been most attentively cultivated around the livestock sector, and the production of beef (largely for export to the United States). Arrive in Calgary and disembarking off the plane you will be greeted by residents wearing white Stetsons welcoming you to the Province. The Calgary Stampede remains a “western” carnival of rodeo events, cowboy culture and the opportunity for Provincial politicians to parade around in boots and cowboy hats. The idea of Alberta beef, connected to an image of rugged western landscapes, cultures and working- class resource communities has for decades been symbolically linked with a very specific version of a place, a people and community in which there is some truth, but also a great deal of myth making. As Gwen Blue (2008) has argued in her research on identity and the beef sector in Alberta, there is nothing natural or inevitable in this symbolism (indeed it obscures the tremendous geographic and cultural diversity of the Province), but such images have been useful first in selling products but also in constructing an expedient political imaginary for the Province’s conservative politics.

This has been the dominant landscape for spatializing agriculture and food production in the Province, and in some instances, producers have tried to capture it in connecting a craft beer, or whiskey, to an “Albertan” identity. There are cans decorated with rodeo cowboys and pictures of the cattle drive (see for example Big Rock’s Rhinestone Cowboy Lagered Ale). Often producers interested in scaling-up their production, or making a splash internationally, or even within the wider Canadian marketplace have leaned into these images. A honey- producer can connect their product to Albertan (and Canadian) images of naturalness and purity for the Asian market. A brewer will want to connect the consistent quality of their beer to the quality of Alberta barley. A distiller, looking to compete with the global liquor giants can lean into images of honesty and industriousness of its rural communities. Histories and narratives do exist, as do, of course, real rural landscapes and economies, and new crafts products can conceive their product, its appearance, its narration, by carefully selecting physical and narrative features, and use spatial anchoring, as part of a strategy of new craft production. Symbolism shapes the indexicality strived for, and an alluring space of firstness can remain, as old associations can link to new products to create partly new experiences.

When you visit in Alberta—whether it’s an Alberta beer or an Alberta whiskey, we want it to be representative of time and place. Why is the Alberta story not being told? . . . Why is barley being sent elsewhere? Maybe Alberta beef comes to mind, but when you think Alberta, you don’t think of the breadbasket of Canada . . . (Craft brewer).

However, we might see such examples as something of the blunt-end of place-based associations for the craft industry. Abstract articulations of place and community, in the same way as branding a subpar product as quality, can leave craft producers vulnerable. As Koontz and Chapman (2023) document, brewers pay a great deal of attention to the authenticity of a product, including in relation to both its quality and the broader experiences of neolocal consumption. Banal place-based attributions (Merced, 2023) risk disconnecting image and brand from reality. Difference has to be persuasive. Indeed many craft producers will be aware that, while they might rightly extol the virtues of Alberta Barley, these are the same primary ingredients employed by large commercial brewers. And, while brewers can rightly boast of some exceptional quality beverages, some also raised concerns to us during interviews about inconsistency across the sector and the need to support each other in collectively raising their game. It is clear from our research, that the symbolic work of creating a shallow terroir and generalized place-based associations based on loose links to ingredients is not necessarily enough to designate a beer as craft in Alberta. The distinctions have to be pertinent enough, the associations both strong and distinct enough.

Beyond the blunt-end of place branding initiatives, there is a great deal of more semiotic work going on which construes ideas of place and locality in much more nuanced ways (cf Davoudi & Madanipour, 2015; Taylor, 2009). One brewer suggested to us, that where early entrants into the craft market were able to rely on pre-existing symbsols and narratives, that as the marketplace has become more crowded that the need to construct distinct place-based identities, has meant that geographies have shrunk, and place narratives become more nuanced through processes of expanded differentiation (Koontz & Chapman, 2023, p. 32). In an exploration of name branding in Tampa Bay’s craft industry, Bell (2017) documents how craft brewers have similarly coped with a saturated marketplace through creative means of construing neolocal connections, for instance through nostalgia, or reference to an associated object (e.g., the aforementioned reference to the rhinestone cowboy). But beyond such neolocal tropes, we also heard from participants about the need for what they referred to as “micro-regionality,” where consumers connect to products through deepening links to local geographies and communities.

A productive area of work for craft producers has thus involved making connections between their products, relationships with specific producers, and the rural relations that connect them. Single-field batches of spirits, or beers, foster a “terroir” linking product to grain and landscape, and just as importantly to rural producers. Such partnerships bring the farm and the farmer forward in the narrative of craft production. In a context where the consumer is often seen divorced from food production, craft offers an alternative to the anonymity of the conventional food system. It offers something more personal, and by purchasing a craft product, a consumer can become a part of a social economy linking the consumer (often in an urban setting) with the brewer, and through them the cultures, heritages, and values of rural producers. At least on the face of it, craft brewers offer consumers the opportunity to be part of a wider local food community, or even movement (see Beckie et al., 2012, for a similar argument concerning the role of farmers markets in Alberta). These are rich and nuanced narratives, and as our participants described, essential to differentiating a craft product from a conventional one:

[Our malter] is located just forty-five [minutes] east of us. The barley we have around here is world class. People don’t realize this makes an awesome beer and whiskey. We interact with the farmers and friends to a certain degree. We have done a single field whiskey [with them]. We took malt from a single field. We tell the story of agriculture and farming and where we are from. (Craft Distiller)

Our very first grain supplier—there was a farmer broken down on the side of the road. [I asked]: “do you know who farms this land?” [They replied] “my family has been farming this for four generations.” So, I said, “can you sell me some wheat?” . . . Now I have a spider web and network to tap into. (Craft Malter)

Place brands do not reveal themselves through superficial connections to firstness. Deeper, and more engaged, branding is required in modern craft production which does more to articulate differences with other products, the nature and value of indexicalities involved, and the narrative of that indexicality. As the aforementioned statement suggests, the symbolic construction of a story one ties to place, tradition, materials, can be more persuasive than price, or stories and simpler signs invoking a return to the pure joys and wide-open horizons of firstness. One can note that the Canadian imagery of naturalness, simplicity, open spaces, the felt freedom of the cowboy or the outdoorsmen is well placed to evoke firstness, to conjure up a lack of accumulating constraints, of personal and cultural history, and thus a return of new potentialities. Which at the same time serves to brand new products in new landscapes, yet where everybody tries this, and where actual craft as an index of quality is often missing, more precise indexicality, and more technical reference to craft acquires a great potential value.

In this sense, the reference of crafts can thus be extremely varied. The “object” craft refers to, can be a quality, a time, a place, a feeling, the vibe of a taproom, a group, a form of social organization or belonging (Koontz & Chapman, 2023; Paxson, 2012; Reid, 2021; Sebeok, 2008).

You’re telling a story, [and it] is the story of Alberta, and agriculture, barley farming and honey producing, and adding value and agro-processing . . . [Really] producing this liquid version of the Alberta experience. Why would I want a cube? I want people to walk in, and I want to be able to tell that story, [the story] of my family . . . our story . . . That’s why you’re going to buy our brand. (Craft Brewer and Distiller)

Indexicality is essential, as it creates a more unique connection between sign and object (Zoest, 1978). That object can be what the person enjoying the craft product is interested in (beer as a symbol of belonging, drinking as belonging), but it can also be secondary. The reference to, or the rooting in a place, can be felt as merely contributing to the taste or experience of the craft product. It can also be a precondition for some to continue the experience and interpretation: ah, the wine is French, let me taste. The indexical relation with an object can thus structure the interpretation and appreciation in several ways (as goal, as contributing factor, as enabling factor) (Manning, 2012).

Our bottle [represents our industrial heritage]. It very much reflects Alberta, [and] we get a lot of interest because of that. The Canadian Consulate has wanted to have our bottle on the desk. The bottle represents the resource industry that allows us to develop . . . If we are trying to market to Japan—pristine water and mountains. If we are trying to focus local—agricultural roots and pride. (Craft distiller)

The craft producers interviewed confirmed that much semiotic work is expected from both producers and consumers. It is not an easy task to come up with a new product, and it is not evident to recognize and appreciate the connections between place, history, and product embodied in the new products (cf Bjorner & Aronsson, 2022; Gaffey, 2017; McHattie et al., 2019). That semiotic work includes making links between local geographies, ingredients and the craft product being produced (Giovanardi et al., 2013; Minar & Crown, 2001; Van Assche & Hornidge, 2015). Alberta’s craft sector has followed the well- worn path of the craft industry at large and local symbolism has become essential to the craft narrative (Gatrell et al., 2018). Direct connections are made between local environments and the quality and value of products, with craft producers eager to experiment in creating a “terroir” around Alberta beers. “Terroir” expresses a blend of indexical links to place in a synthetic manner (Argent, 2018; Mittag, 2014).

As such terroir, as an image of unique connections between climate, soil, traditional practices and product, is a non-existent, or vaguely emerging, construct in the Alberta context, and as many (often young) producers are open to the value of both tradition and innovation, one can notice a double process of experimentation. Both new and old techniques of beer production are practiced, and a careful selection of features of place is taking place that might be useful in constructing a recognizable “terroir.” Others focus on innovation and find connections with place (as noted earlier) beyond a notion of terroir.

Barley, a long-standing cash crop for farmers in the province, and a base ingredient for brewers large and small across North America, is now promoted as “Alberta Barley” and re-signified in relation to craft values. Local soil conditions, climate and mineral content are all recruited to explain the production of a “naturally healthier barley” with a “cleaner” and more “flavourful taste.” ² It’s not just an ingredient to just be “sent elsewhere,” as the participant cited above puts it, but something which is essential to the qualities and values of craft production. The inclusion of other local ingredients further adds to the unique flavor profiles and identities of craft products. Saskatoon berries are added to beers, coolers and sodas, Alberta sugar beet promoted in distilling local rums, and there is the addition of local honeys and berries in producing spirits. The brewers we met, thus spoke with pride in connecting the quality of their products to qualities of local ingredients:

“We grow some of the best malt barley in the world. Alberta beer—[our malt]” (Craft Malter). “We take a lot of passion and interest into where our materials come from. Especially the barley in Alberta—we are so proud that we can use local Alberta barley, which is world-class in our whiskey and our beer” (Craft Brewer and Distiller). “It’s now not only supporting local breweries. It’s very hyperlocal—buy your local neighbourhood beer.” (Craft Brewer)

We observed such hyper-localism manifested in several ways (cf Davoudi & Madanipour, 2015). Craft producers we spoke with were often involved in clustering with like-minded producers in other related food sectors. A brewery might share space in a retail unit with a craft butcher, bakery, or other niche food retailer. They could share marketing together and partner on products, or in promoting each other’s products. These clusters of craft businesses, and the joining of consumption with a cultural experience (Mathews, 2023; Mathews & Picton, 2014), have cemented the locality of brewing within a variety of formerly unloved urban environments, including strip malls and light industrial sites. Either as sources of revitalization, or as the “canary in the coal mine of neighbourhood change,” craft beer has entered broader debates over new forms of urbanism and gentrification of local communities (Barajas et al., 2017, p. 173).

Breweries also create thick local relations through partnering with community organizations and local charities. This includes, as one example, partnering in the production of bespoke small batches which support shared social messaging, and where profits can be shared in support of a good cause. As a microcosm of local community relations, the “tap room” is itself a place for building community, fostering conversations, engaging politics, and for building community. Craft beer, as one participant described, is only partly “about a liquid,” but just as importantly is the connection between that liquid and the desire to “make our communities better somehow” (Participant 10). Symbolic place brands aren’t solely achieved through labels and unique names, but in promoting news ways of experiencing beer and community simultaneously:

It’s sort of like a town square back in the day. Where people come and feel safe and chit chat—it’s like an extension of your living room—that’s exactly what the taproom is for us. We close early—it’s not about getting drunk. It’s about beer facilitating discussion. (Craft Brewer)

We brewed a beer recently with [a local food security charity]. We brewed a Kvass—an Eastern European alcoholic beverage—using day old bread from the bakery. We use those sugars to make beer. Being a local small brewery, we are always looking for angles to try to show we are supporting community, and building community. (Craft Brewer)

We can observe a shift here from the traditional thinking of terroir, and a move away from a link between existing place brand and craft product. Rather than focusing on establishing indexical, narrative and iconic links with an existing place, here the focus comes to lie on the construction of a new place, that is, a new community (Sjölander-Lindqvist et al. (2019) speak of “social terroir”). Similarly, Merced (2023) suggests that craft beer consumers are not simply consuming place but are engaged in shaping a collective place identity. This work is not expected to come about merely through craft production, or experienced through the act of consumption (cf Koontz & Chapman, 2023), but places are instead harnessed to forge something new, that is, a reinvigorated community (Rinaldi, 2017; Rius Ulldemolins, 2014). That community can be hyper-local (locals supporting each other), and it can be partly virtual, where the act of drinking or eating elsewhere can be experienced as becoming an honorary member of the community (Rogerson, 2016). In such community-building processes, several crafts can recognize each other as helping each other in a shared effort transcending individual profit-making or even economic development (Eberts, 2014; Gaffey, 2017; Sørensen, 2019).

[C]ross-craft communities . . . often support each other. We have a craft distillery two doors down from us. They have a small dine-in area that we supply. We sell some of their products. A French patisserie has opened a few doors down. I’ve always wanted to be beside a baker. We get the same type of customers. . . . We also have a [niche] restaurant right next to us. We get along with our neighbours really well. You’ll see the wife go into the restaurant and the husband come into our shop. We are quite the little corner for . . . I like to say: “We’ve got the butcher, the baker and the spirit maker.”

Concluding: Rooting and Growing

A quality product is supposed to be more than a product of better storytelling. “Real” quality differences are indexical differences: mass production leaves indexical traces, while the indexicality of a place, an ingredient, a technique, leaves positive traces which enable an interpretation as “craft.”

Yet, iconic and symbolic aspects of craft are always at play. Stories, about the place, about the craftspeople, about ingredients and techniques contribute to the establishment of a distinction with other places, other products, to the construction of something as craft. Indexicality cannot be absent, though, and, depending on the case, can function as enabling, contributing, or the goal of the interpretation of something as craft. Stories can create a context for the product, and place can create such context. The nature of the stories about the place can make all the difference. Stories of place and product can reinforce each other in place branding efforts. Even if place branding is not on the agenda, place narratives and product narrative can reinforce each other, and the layering and resonance of narratives can complement and underpin the forms of indexicality at play (Barthes, 1968; Kavaratzis, 2012). It is partly through stories that something is recognized as real, as coming from a place, as showing the signs of a marked technical quality, or a traditional technique (Farrelly et al., 2019; Sebeok, 2008; Throgmorton, 2007).

Not all craft products need to be rooted in place or embedded in tradition. And, if rooting in place, through selective indexicality and careful narrative, is the route chosen, this does not mean that a notion of terroir, or similar notions of unity of all aspects of place and tradition, has to be invoked. New crafts in young regions can make a difference, a difference with standard products and dominant modes of production, and a difference for the community as a whole. For that to happen, a linking to place through indexical and narrative signs, an attention to branding of place and product is useful. One can speak of a hope for community building effects which can be productive, or performative, and one can speak of an intended form of indexicality at the community level: the craft itself leaves its imprint on the community, triggers a chain of causal effects which can transform a place (Grenni et al., 2020; Hansen, 2010; Manning & Uplisashvili, 2007).

Semiotic work is required for this to happen, and a careful distinction between fantasy and a hope inspired by the learning process taking place in the craft community. Indeed, networking within one form of craft production and between different crafts, between makers and suppliers, locally and regionally, and networking of producers and consumers beyond the act of consuming itself, can be helpful to transform both the image of a place and its cohesion, both its external presentation and its internal governance (Cipollaro et al., 2021; Jones et al., 2021; Van Assche et al., 2020). Of course, not all crafting initiatives will have such effects, but the social- semiotic mechanisms exist to make it, in principle, possible. The balance between tradition and innovation in craft production, and the relation between anchoring in place and tradition, and aiming at community transformation will be different (Kavaratzis, 2012; Toraldo et al., 2018), but that is not a problem. What has to underpin any hope for crafts-based development, what does not vary, is the rooting in place, through different semiotic functions, as locals do need to see a reason to identify with the product and the scene, while for outsiders distinguishing a craft product from others, in a globalized economy, the route of specification through spatialization offers many attractive perspectives. In this sense, growing in place does require rooting in place.

Which products have most potential in a particular place, cannot be ascertained from a distance. One can say that a place has potential, a firstness which can lead to a different signification and materialization, and that also new product start, in the minds and the hands of the craftspeople, as firstness. That firstness can become embodied through the crafting of things and stories, through establishing and narrating indexicality. Clarity of the link with place and tradition can be helpful, by taking away doubts about provenance and functioning as quality indicator; yet firstness cannot be lost, and the pressing of images, materials, stories, tastes and smells into the service of a unified craft brand, should not take away the poetry of a craft product, which comes with a degree of ambiguity, and the possibility to project experiences into the web of signs around the product. An aspect of anchoring which links insiders and outsiders, is, we know, simply visiting a place, hearing stories and sampling local products; it is this direct experience that can shape the dynamic interpretant as no other, that can impress on the customer the feeling that this thing in this place makes it unique, and that this experience contributes not only to the economy of the place, but also to the story of one’s own life.

A Peircean perspective on the potential of craft for community development, and on the mediating role of branding can thus be helpful in a double sense: by elucidating the discursive positioning of place and community, with implication for craft product potential, and by clarifying the choices available with regard to semiotic work, as in the creation and dissemination of new interpretations of place and product. Peirce can assist in self-reflection, as entrepreneur and as community, and in futuring, the exploration of options for community development which value place and product. Neither Peirce nor any academic observer can derive a fixed procedure for community development from such perspective, as communities decide for themselves which path to take, as the role of place and product in community futures will differ, and as community itself will have varying relevance and fluctuating boundaries in different cases.

For Peirce, anchoring in place would always involve indexicality, and this means that something has to be convincing in its connection to a place, its history, its agricultural and craft traditions, although, as we know, different elements can be foregrounded and not all have to be significant. Indexicality is never pure, and relies partly on iconicity and symbolism, on conventions, stories and other signs, on relations of semblance, to indicate a place connection and its relevance. Craft products can be a sign of a place, while place images and narratives can entail associations with products, with possibilities for strategic construction and performance of narratives for both place and product. Peirce would warn us that limits exist, that indexicality and its relevance cannot be constructed at will. If we just bracketed the use of indexicality as a measure of objective grounding in place, new limits appear, and here firstness rears its head again. Both the stories of anchoring and the values attributed to those stories (through other stories) can start to feel stale, fake or annoying, even as a betrayal (Manning, 2010; Manning & Uplisashvili, 2007). One does not need to invoke notions of real authenticity here, yet one can observe that firstness cannot be banished altogether, that it can be less easily manipulated, and that it can rear its head in new ways.

“Community” can thus suddenly appear when people feel it is under threat, when it is misrepresented, when products and their stories do not match the feeling of people, place and history which we call community. Whether this is the original firstness which was snowed under in crafting and branding efforts, or whether a new sense of belonging emerged in the process of felt misrecognition, can, for Peirce, and for, never be established definitively, but this is not a problem. Community itself, as a discursive object invested with stories, with rules, with feelings and abstract qualities, does not always exist in a place, even where many have lived together for a long time, and even when community at some point did exist, and enabled collective choices toward a desirable narrative future (Van Assche & Gruezmacher, 2025). At the same time, community can also be revived again, and individual and collective semiotic work of the sort discussed above can contribute to the rethinking and reorientation of community. Craft products, place narratives and their relation retain the potential to move the community in a new direction, where Peirce insists that any renewed appreciation of the past is a rewriting of past, place and community, that even the most traditionalist communities, relying on apparently timeless products, can only do so because of continuous renewal, because of semiotic work, in the community or elsewhere. If it happens mostly elsewhere, chances are that the community will see fewer benefits materializing locally.