Yesterday I gassed up my Dad's ancient Buick and drove to Virginia Beach to retrieve my work from the A&I show. It was an uneventful drive and I made good time so I had time to stop in Bad Ass Coffee for a giant Mocha and a breakfast biscuit which is a good thing since I would need the fuel later. The staff had my work packed and ready to go so I loaded up the Buick and planned on moving it to the shade so I could walk to the beach and have time for lunch. Nothing doing. Car wouldn't crank! Bugger! (to borrow from my UK/Aussie friends...)
I made time for my walk and enjoyed the sun and sand and birds and all that a beach in October has to offer. I was mainly worried about getting home to teach my drawing class last night at the Museum. When I returned to the CACV it still wouldn't crank but once I dragged one the security guards outside and lifted the hood it cranked right up. I took off, gassed up with the car still running and headed west. I was happy to make it home though the car is still loaded with art and it the engine doesn't turn over I don't know what I will do. One good thing is that is is finally raining so that's another good excuse to wait until tomorrow before I tackle the transition to my studio in Manchester.
It has been a long week. I am teaching four nights a week now and my days have been full of paperwork, bills, dead car batteries and things of little consequence in the long run. My parents called yesterday from my dad's car. They had been to Gulfport/Biloxi to see my sister and were still in a state of shock from all that they had witnessed. My mother spent some of her best years in Gulfport and has always wanted to move back. Now, there is nothing to move back to. She said it couldn't have been worse if a bomb had gone off there. Everthing is gone. All of the beautiful homes. her church, the live oak trees, the hope, the beauty, the life of the region...it is spent. My dad has seen many things in his life and heard stories that most people would cringe at - he worked as a counselor for the state and often interviewed people from correctional institutions. He said he isn't shocked by much these days but that he hopes he never sees anything like that again. It had a resonance I could hear in his voice. They begged my sister to return north with them but she would never do such a thing. It not in her nature to do anything my parents ask or want her to do, regardless of her best interest.
I hope I can visit the region before I return to France in January. Its an important chapter in the history of my family, the region, the nation. Its time to go. Its a shame I am teaching four nights a week since it will be harder to get away.
It was a beautiful, timeless afternoon on the Hill. Regula Franz and Lothar Pausewang were married on the steps of Fulton Hill Studios while several generations of artists, musicians, designers, gardeners, developers and architects looked on. It wasn't an afternoon of lying on sweet blades of grass like those later afternoons of the Twefth Night Passion Play in the late 80's or the evening in the early 90's when we sent smoke signals up into the clouds in search of Gus Garber... but it had a soulfulness that was part Wagnerian, part Salsa and bittersweet dark chocolate. A Swiss, a German and their respective familys chose our beloved Fulton Hill to tie the knot on. It was perfect.
