Protecting Your Pain

We like to think that we protect things/people that we care about. Kids. Households. Jobs. Reputations. But pain? We hate pain, right, so why in the world would we want to protect it? Right?

Actually, for most us, there is pain that we don't want to let go. We pet it, ruminate on it, repeat it, check it again and again like that sore tooth that we just can't stop touching with our tongues.

For writers and other people who define themselves as "artistic," this is especially dangerous. For one, we're defining ourselves as something. And two, that definition becomes our story, the fences, the borders of our lives (there's no way I can do x ... y or z). I remember reading about writers' lives in graduate school, really digging into their bios, and thinking, wow, I might not be that good of a writer because I would rather be happy.

Uh .... but then life happened, as it always does. And suddenly, I had my own wounds. Now, before you think that "Nope, this couldn't be the norm. Protecting pain is stupid! Why would I want to hurt?," ponder this. You've been out with a person (person #1) who says they're over someone but just can't stop talking about that person.

Or you're with a person (person #2) who seems to have a deep sadness. They don't want to talk about the past, but they allude to that fact. Instead of it not coming up, they avoid it, keep things surface, etc.

Both of these tactics protect pain.

Person #1 rereads the script over and over, creating a habit, a history, a story that eventually becomes a belief. It's the guy at the VA hospital that grosses out the Candy Stripers by showing his nasty scar and repeating in too much detail how it happened. Note: This is different than processing pain, working through it, sharing with those close to you in order to form stronger bonds. But eventually, those relationships need to grow past the pain, or they will wear out.

Person #2 keeps a bandage over the old wound. There is possession. This is my pain -- you couldn't possibly understand. Note: This is different than "going there" and really looking at something in your quiet time, really shining the light on something in your mind in order to clear out the cobwebs.

Now, if you noticed such a person, well, more than likely you've been  that person. I have.

I've been writing a Story of Me for years -- something I repeat to people, highlighting things, but more than that, repeating it to myself. And I have cared about the pain, even though I would've dismissed you if you'd pointed that out. I didn't know I cared about it, but in certain corners of my life, it was still hanging out. And like watching Dirty Dancing for the 71st time, I'd play over that pain again, remind myself of the feelings, the specifics, the whole thing down to the credits.

Here's the real deal. You don't have to drink yourself to oblivion like F. Scott Fitzgerald to be a writer, kill yourself like Sylvia Plath, be depressed like Hemingway, cut off your ear like Van Gogh, or fire people routinely to show your leadership like Steve Jobs. There is no story you have to fill in the blanks to to be a writer or create anything.

Pain is natural, and actually pain is good! It is telling you "Danger! Something is wrong here!" Why would you keep listening to the fire alarm instead of putting out the fire??

A New Meaning for Eye Candy

At Lambert Gray Gallery's Grand Opening this past Friday, Holly Herrick signed her new cookbook, we poured lots of wine, ate leaf-shaped sugar cookies and coveted some amazing art. The place was packed most of the evening, Kristen of Blue Bicycle Books was selling books, and "sold" red dots were popping up everywhere.

Co-owners and artists Hilarie Lambert and Michael Gray curated an amazing food-themed show, and Lambert got into the spirit herself with great kitchen scenes inspired by her time in France.

When the Dishes Are Done, Hilarie Lambert. SOLD

What was so fun about this show is how the artists brought their own sensibilities and ideas to the table. Lambert's only parameter was "food-related," and here are some great examples of what the artists delivered:

Watermelon. Mark Horton

Chips & Beer Dear. Sheryl Stalnaker

Catch of the Day. Elizabeth Middour

Recipe for Disaster. Shannon Runquist

There's more art just waiting to be "sampled," such as Tate Nation's special take on take-out and Robert Lange's "Banana Seat", and now that the excitement of Artwalk is past us, the gallery is quietly filled with light in its second story Broad Street locale. It's the perfect time for an appetizer of art, so stop in sometime soon before that downtown lunch and get inspired by the plate.

Love letter to art

Good art makes me giddy. I can't really say when I first started loving "art" -- maybe it was during those heady undergraduate days when NODA in Charlotte was still called North Davidson, and I would gallery crawl into a heady mix of art, architecture, and spontaneous drum circles. I was really into the drum circle a lot more back then, I guess, although I do remember a little of the art.

If I had to pin a moment, an actual moment, that art mattered -- to me -- it would have to be weekday in Winter oh, now close to a decade ago. I was sad the way people get sad. You know, people who have decided at some point that what they were doing was wrong, that they have to jump ship and start over. Start again. Regret. That kind of sad.

I found myself again in that section of Charlotte, bright winter sun glinting against the sidewalk and no drum circles or live bands or promise of being hip. The street outside the gallery was quiet with occasional traffic, and undeniably deserted yet cheery.

I popped into a well-known gallery, wandered to the middle, and stood. There it was. A huge painting, probably 36x40 of a Carolina field, after dusk, the grass glowing fireflies. I should be a better student and tell you who painted it, but I can't remember, although later I went back and asked, looked it up, and still can't remember.

That painting seemed to be about everything that was pure, was good and simple, and there I was, wanting it so bad I ached. I didn't have a table in my apartment, but I wanted that painting that was way out of my price range, that was everywhere I wanted to be, everything I wanted to feel about the world and couldn't.

I liked art cerebral-ly before that; I have loved it ever since, and next Thurs., Sept. 22, I will write an event love letter to it. The Beehive presents Buzzworthy, a one-night gallery event for young collectors, fills the lobby of The Terrace Theater on James Island, and all the artists and their artwork will be there because of that one winter day, when I fell in love with art.

Marsh Musings

There's a little saying here in the Charleston art community that we have no shortage of marsh paintings. That's not to cut down the people who paint, photograph, or otherwise interpret the marsh, because it is the perfect natural subject -- changing, moving, catching the light, yet somehow separate of time.

And there's no doubt there's a market for "marsh paintings" here, just like there's a market for fall tree paintings in Highlands, N.C. or desert paintings in New Mexico. And they are as varied as the marsh itself and the artists who create them. Take for example this painting by Lese Corrigan:

Lese Corrigan "Mid -- River II: Stono River I (Main Road) NW"
oil on canvas 35" x 70" 

Or this one by Jan Sasser:

Spring Morning on the Marsh
Oil on Canvas, Marsh entering John's Island near Charleston
14"H x 18"W

Both of these are beautiful depictions of the marsh (or in Corrigan's case, the river first and the marsh beyond), but they provide what most marsh depictions have in common -- a slightly elevated view of the landscape. You must have this in order to paint the main feature, which is the winding water.

The land is exceptionally flat.

Artistically interpreting the marsh is very different from experiencing the marsh, which my sister and I did this weekend, from one of my favorite Lowcountry perches: a swing at James Island County Park. A late morning breeze was kicking up, and as we sat on the edge of the grass, we could see nothing but grass between us and the shore beyond. Birds swooped on the breeze, and the sound was quiet (except for us slapping at mosquitoes and calling down my dogs who would not sit still).

The only indication of where the water was was a sailboat mast passing by. We couldn't see the boat or hear the boat, just witness a phantom mast passing between lanes of late summer grass, grown tall with rain, the tide and humidity.

A place for Modern Design?

Don't think you have to have a modern home to enjoy modern art.

Stacy Huggins of Charleston Art Mag recently sent me a fascinating blog post featuring The Beehive in the Garden. It highlights a wonderful modern art sculpture inspired by the interaction of man and bees, and it's set in a formal garden of a Parisian mansion originally built in the 1620s.

Dance of Bees, or "La Danse des Abeilles" by French designers Vaulot & Dyèvre 

I love the color and the old-fashioned idea of a beehive re-presented as this blue cage-like sculpture. To me, it is inviting, saying that the garden is part of the present, not just revered because of its role in the past, but very much today. The past is preserved, yes, but at once you think about the people who chose this sculpture, who live here now. And that's a beautiful thing.

Pertinent discussion, perhaps, for Charleston, don't you think? In fact, such a debate is in progress, and I for one, agree with Robert Behre, who says, "reusing buildings gently --without tarting them up so their original incarnation is completely obscured." Here in Charleston, it's a balance between respecting the old while living in the present. Just like The Beehive in the Garden.

Required reading added to the list

There is a good chance that you have not seen Charleston Art Magazine. It's petite with a petite distribution, but this quarterly, and the ladies who put it together, know what's going on. And I mean, know. Go to any hip event, and there's a good chance that Stacy or Olivia will be there. And will know much more about it than you (well, maybe not you, but me).

Still, they are not just about the events. They recently started a blog for the magazine, and it's filled with good info., calls for artists and a really great resource list of "artsy" things to get you plugged in fast. I'm honored that "From My Little Desk" is part of their blog roll too!

Add it to your blog reading list, all you art fans out there -- it's a great resource for the region.

Speak Up!

When I was an undergrad English major, I was introduced to spoken word art -- poetry "slams" and such, where we sat around and drank coffee and I discovered the clove cigarette. If only I'd had a black beret ...

However, two distinct open mike experiences come to mind when I think about spoken word from my past, and neither one are really positive. The first was freshman year, where some angry person stood in the corner of a crowded room, faced away from the crowd and preceeded to curse God at the top of his lungs. My virgin ears bled ...

The second, years later, when I was writing poetry and performing it occasionally myself -- a female poet came to the mike after me and said, "Leave your confessions to God." And so ended my performance career.

But despite the religious references of my past, I've come to a new understanding about this art form. It's doesn't have to be painful.

My great friend Marcus Amaker is a spoken-word poet, and his rhythyms match perfectly with a base line from Kevin Hamilton. He speaks about love and lust and the spaces between those two ...



Another recent discovery, Shanthony Exum, adds a pop-colored vibe and hip lyrics to the genre, and she references her hips and pop culture much more than any (if at all) railing against the spiritual. On top of that, her visual art is the pop-culture reference laden style I always gravitate towards, and a full-time job as an art director seems to keep her work fresh. She has a new show I covered recently for Go Triad, and in speaking with her, I loved her intelligence, confidence, and especially her sense of humor.

So give spoken word another chance like I did (of course minus the clove cigarettes).

Galleries getting it right

There is a vibrant art scene here in Charleston, and every first Friday evening there is an Art Walk, where Broad Street galleries keep their doors open and we can all wander in. It was a hot July evening with pop up showers on the horizon, but I had art on the brain.

I have enjoyed these through the years, but sometimes, the vibe and the art at many galleries remains the same -- stagnant. Still, if I'm down on an Art Walk night, weaving my way around the palmettos on Broad, it's not an Art Walk for me until I visit Scoop Studios. They always get it right.

And what is "it"? The fact that art is supposed to be living, changing and exciting. There's always a fun signature cocktail, lots of people in the petite space, and *gasp* a new show! They stay true to their contemporary aethestic and bring us artists that are unique to the street. (A projected sock monkey on the opposite building a few months ago won my heart forever.)

Sock Monkey, 33"x32", Acrylic on Board, Bill Mead

Last night was another engaging show, this one a solo John Stango. B. and I discussed the fun juxtaposition of icons, images and memory, and although we weren't fans of the mickey mouse subject matter,

Mickey Mouse Flag, 22 x 33, acrylic on Canvas

we both agreed that "Bullitproof" kept our interest. It was intensely layered and spoke loud and clear.

Bullittproof, 79" x 57.5", acrylic on canvas

Scoop has a wide range of artists, price points and mediums, and since they change shows pretty frequently, have a great website that can show you what you missed. And hey, you never know -- you just might not be able to live without the Monopoly board artwork of your dreams ...

Monopoly, 18"x24", Digital Graphics on Paper, Austin Schulz

Writing about art begets picking up a brush

This past Saturday started out like many other muggy mornings, the sliding glass door fogging up at the bottom and the coffee too hot but desperately needed. But it ended as no other Saturday had before it -- with my own oil painting drying on the table!

After many years of admiring the artist's process, I finally got the chance to put a brush in my own hand, and it was a wonderful experience. For me, the morning was much more about the experience of painting with a great teacher and great classmates Holly Thorpe and Mona Floyd, than it was about doing anything "wrong" or even "right."

Karen Hagan was a wonderful instructor with practical tips that broke down the creative process. And to see how she lays out a painting composition was reward enough, but when we got to the palette itself, I was able to put some of her tips into practice. The bonus was being able to smear, mix and fill my brush with the saturated colors on my palette. I was all about the palette.

And, of course, we all want to paint again. I am dreaming of Karen's fall workshop at Lake Garda. There are still at least four spots left ...

You wanna be a big shot, do ya?

I remember my first reaction at seeing Warhol's work, in this case the iconic Campbell's soup can. It went something like this:

*dialogue in my head as I listened to a lecture in college* OK ............. he just copied the can, right .... and he made more than one ???

Of course, after years of schooling and many art openings and such, I started to respect the fact that while, it wasn't "that hard" (common dismissive artspeak), he was the first to think of it. That really still seemed to be a cop out.

But after writing this week's cover feature in Go Triad about the Weatherspoon's exhibit of Warhol's Polaroids, well, I am getting it. And I am liking it.

I'd always imagined Warhol flippant, a man who knew how to use the media and who was more style than substance. That's the image he often portrayed, the type of people with whom he surrounded himself. But as for art, this man was serious. He did really breathe art, weaving together all parts of his life into an artistic web. His film fed his art that fed his celebrity that fed his image that fed his photography and around the horn again.

It was weird to a lot of America, still is, really, and it was very much a Studio 54 New York Thing. But I think I'm starting to get it. I might not be on that 54 dance floor, but at least I'm in line behind the velvet ropes.

A go-to store to add to the list

My husband is a good gift-giver. He really tries to think about gifts and often gives me significant things -- a piece of pottery, little one-of-a-kind trinkets and jewelry that has a story. I thrive on this. But he has a secret.

In every one of the places we have lived together, he has a go-to store, a place where, for any occasion, he can go in and find something I will like. It's always a store that is part art gallery, part gift shop, and eclectic, filled to the brim with goodies. And once he finds it, he knows it.

If we ever move to Asheboro, I have his go-to store all picked out ... Circa Gallery.

A few weeks ago on a blustery but sunny day, I got to wind through the countryside to this little NC town, known more for the zoo than anything else. But what I found was a little oasis in a couple of downtown blocks where I could have happily wasted an afternoon. Circa would be the center of that afternoon.

Filled with art of various mediums, jewelry and even handmade soap (I love to smell handmade soap!), this gallery stocks close to 80 artists and is at the forefront of an evolving Piedmont art scene. They have good stuff, shiny stuff, colorful stuff, warm and fuzzy things, and plenty of space to browse, to stop, to take a closer look. Go, but be warned, it could become your next go-to store too.

Positive Art

Positive gets a bad rap. Pollyanna. Naive. Pipe dream.

Critical people are often seen as smart. Discerning. More in tune.

Truth is, it's often harder to be positive, to step over the ease of doing nothing because there is no use. I like positive people.

Edwin Gil is one of those people. A visual artist who transformed a youthful rebellious streak into an adult rebellious (or activist) streak that says "This does not have to be the way it is," he is using what he knows, art, to bring awareness of the growing problem of HIV/AIDS in the Latino community. He is speaking out when so many others are holding it in. He's tweeting. He's posting on facebook. And he's painting. And his paintings are cool.

I met him through his upcoming new exhibition, "Positive Art.". Who knew painting could be brave?

A Case for Cute

I knew I was going to like artists Joel and Ashley Selby before I met them -- they're aesthetic was evident from their website and artwork, and they were prompt with a sunny e-mail response. But I was never prepared for them to be such a (oh I hate to even say it...) cute couple!

How, you ask, could you use such a cliche? Well, I provide the following list as support for the use of such a well-worn phrase:

1. They live in a farmhouse, an 1851 farmhouse. I am a sucker for 19th century farmhouses.

2. They have chickens outside the farmhouse.

3. They are young, just out of college young.

4. They smile a lot.

5. They seem at ease wearing hats.

6. They love to bake bread and cookies and save scraps of good paper.

7. They use chalkboards as decor.

8. They love Flight of the Concords.

9. They understand the importance of good fonts and can discuss them at length while keeping you interested.

10. You just know they have only begun to stretch their artistic wings.

Read the Go Triad cover article, and find out more about their budding business and great eye for design. Also, there will be a few pics online supporting, if not condoning, my choice of words.

Is is Professional if I ask for an Autograph??

You know those Saturday afternoons where you are supposed to be cleaning but where you end up perched on the couch watching a movie? Yes, you know, don't you? Well, that's how I saw Center Stage the first time (yes, I said first) in all of its girl-movie glory. It was like Cutting Edge or Ice Castles, or a little like Coyote Ugly, but with ballet, and I was hooked by the dancing, the melodrama, and the fact that the mean instructor was hot and rode a motorcycle.

My Saturday afternoon has come to life. I met the instructor, and yes, he does actually ride a motorcycle, although he's not mean and he didn't teach me any ballet moves (anyone who has ever witnessed me fall off a platform shoe or run into a wall in my own house knows that I am the vision of grace). For a Go Triad cover story, I got the chance to interview Ethan Stiefel, the actor and one of the best ballet dancers in the world who is now the dean of dance at the UNCSA.

Read my profile of him here and learn how he's changing the face of dance and pushing himself in the process. And for the record, no, I didn't get an autograph.

Pretty Stones

Like many women, I could look at beautiful jewelry all day. I love the variety of stones, especially colored ones, from aquamarine to tourmaline and even the beautiful pink quartz. But looking at beautiful stones for work? Count me in.

Recently, someone turned me on to Luba Warrack's jewelry, interesting organic forms whose focus is unusual, often large semi-precious stones. A little digging located the artist in Lindley Park, just a neighborhood hop away here in Greensboro. A little more digging revealed that she had been a research scientist before turning to jewelry full-time. I smelled a story!

So did the editor of Go Triad, and yesterday, my article about Luba's great artistic journey was published in the Thursday edition. The photographer did a great job on the piece, especially the photograph of one of her pieces, and I was happy to have another art article in the local market.

Publishing update

The article on the Dutcher's work with wolves has published. Check out the wonderful layout and photos in SEWE's special section, published by The Post and Courier in Charleston, S.C. Seems like the annual wildlife celebration was a great success again this year, and the Food + Wine Festival is right on its heels, starting in a couple of days.

Unfortunately, my little desk was devoid of tickets to either, but assignments are another matter, so I am happy sitting at my desk, with a spring snow melting in the front yard and another adventure around the bend. For a dose of culture in the home turf of the Triad, I covered a contemporary art exhibit at Wake Forest for the Greensboro News and Record's Go Triad. I feel strongly about the need for art no matter the economy, and it was great to find a gallerist who could speak on the subject so personally. I hope to write more about art for the publication in the near future, so stay tuned . . .