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 ...

The End of the Beginning

It is time to admit something -- I'm not nearly finished on the fiction project.

This is a big deal for me to say, because in October 2009 I proudly typed "the end" and announced that I was ready to send it to an agent. The agent said that she would still take a look at it, so I formatted away and hit "send." And then I waited.

(Now, please note, I didn't use this time to just paint my nails and take up woodworking. I was still writing a slew of freelance magazine and newspaper articles, moving, and, well, trying NOT to think about the fiction project.) I didn't open the file again, I didn't try to tweak characters or improve plot lines, I simply let it sit, as it was FINISHED.

Boy was I wrong.

You know what happens next, right? That's right. The agent passed on the project, a few months ago after reading the full manuscript, and I still waited. I looked for other agencies, sent other queries, anything except open that file.

But over the past few weeks, instead of dreading the file, I started to miss my characters. And I started to think about the writing itself, that maybe in my work I had tried so hard to write a subtly nuanced story that I nuanced myself out of much of the story. There was a lot more there to explore that I had left untouched. I realized that that October day was just the end of the beginning.

I am thankful, thankful that the agent took so long to respond, thankful that I am not abandoning the project, and thankful that at least the beginning of the next stage is finally illuminated.

So the file is opened. The quintessential red pen is out and I am happy to visit the setting and see my characters again. If I want to read it again, maybe someone else will too.

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 Writers Block

As you might have noticed, I am working hard at this writing thing. So it was fortuitous that in the past month I've had the wonderful opportunity to interview two other hard-working writers who seem to miss the meaning of downtime.

The first was Lowcountry royalty Dottie Frank, whose 11th novel debuted this week. She decided to kick off her book tour with a benefit for the Charleston County Public Library, and that gave me an excuse to track her down and talk about writing the Lowcountry. Some of that conversation was captured here for a Charleston Scene article, but I gained much more from my conversation with her than could fit into 500 words.

She was charming, down to earth and so generous explaining process and how she feels about her own writing. I was enamored.

The second interview was children's book author and illustrator Jim Young, who has managed to write / illustrate 24 books despite a full-time position at the Greensboro Public Library (yes, how cool is it that both of these writers are very connected to their local libraries?). And you know what was even more amazing? Jim is very calm about the whole thing, so much so that you could mistake him for a yoga instructor instead of a guy who loves being around children and loves painting wacky animals.



His process centers around working at the kitchen table until the last part of the process, so it seems he loves being the eye of the family hurricane. At least, that's what I imagine, although he might have a family as serene as he.

Two different perspectives. Two very different writers, but both fulfilled writing lives. It can be done, and these two are doing it.

Brandi Carlile Got a Charleston Homecoming

Yes, I know, singer/songwriter Brandi Carlile is from the opposite side of the country, not Charleston, S.C. But when she took the stage last evening, she didn't realize we had been waiting for her all this time. She does now and seemed genuinely happy and at home with the at-capacity crowd that filled the Music Farm.

In my concert preview article in last week's Charleston Scene, I quoted Brandi as saying that sometimes a concert is "gut wrenching and sometimes it's just a party."

Last night, Brandi threw us a party.

She threw numerous picks into the audience as the finale for songs. She whipped the cord of her electric guitar around like a tail. She laughed with bandmates, talked between songs, and at one point, asked the crowd with a laugh, "What would you like to hear? The set list has pretty much gone to shit at this point!"

People shouted. Brandi made eye contact and listened. And she played the songs that had been requested. And then she played more. And what is a good party without a Johnny Cash song? Well, not good enough, the band thought, so they threw in the most awesome (yes, I am a writer and should come up with a fresh term here, but, well, it WAS most awesome) version of "Folsom Prison Blues" that has ever been played outside of Folsom Prison.

Thanks Brandi. Y'all come back now, ya hear?

Luxury lives up to its reputation

As a resident of Charleston, I rarely if ever have a reason to visit Kiawah Island Golf Resort, except for a delicious special-occasion dinner at one of the restaurants. Still, the few times I have been there, I have been impressed. Kiawah is one of those places that lives up to its hype, and its hype is about service.

Yes, the place is beautiful, to be sure, but it is the people who work in this mini-city who impress me. People are nice, genuinely helpful and for the most part, seem to take pride in the high standards of service their employer requires.

My latest foray into the resort -- the spa. In this month's Go Magazine, I detail what sets this created oasis apart from so many other spas. I hope the Kiawah powers that be read this and invite me back for that lemon verbena treatment (yes, I should be ashamed at blatant begging, but ... lemon ... verbena ... ). Just ignore the fact that I have a crazy schedule -- I promise, Kiawah, I will be able to fit you in!

Amelia Island a green island getaway

Bob and I had the opportunity for a later-summer getaway last year to Amelia Island, and in this month's Go Magazine website, the article about the "green" resort is a web extra. Click here to access it and then cruise around the website for more travel tips.

My travel tip for Amelia Island, Fla.? Renting a golf cart is an option for the resort and perfect fun for tooling around this expansive place. There is much to see, it's easy to transport lots of stuff to beach or golf course or tennis court, and well, when you're driving a golf cart, you're having a good day!