TWO MORE FOR THE ROAD

Eliza Had Quite A Large Collection of Ceramic Birds. Each of Them Had a Favorite Food. Polly the Bluebird’s Was, Of Course, Crackers.
Acrylic on wood
7 in. x 7 in.





















Melinda Kept The Small Bar of Soap From The Hotel Room. She Thought Rosa Venus Would Be A Wonderful Name For A Girl.
Acrylic on wood
4 in. x 4 in.

I spent more time in my dining room studio last night, finishing these two paintings for my show. Today we hit the road for Texas. It's going to be a long haul, but there's a gallery opening at the other end--and friends, my mom, a visit to the Menil Collection, and a meal at the original Ninfa's. It's going to be a great trip.

Check back Friday for a post-opening report from the road.

BIRD + SOAP + CRACKER

I've been working on a couple more paintings, trying to finish them before my show at Koelsch Gallery opens on--gulp-- Thursday. Nothing like hand-delivering work at the eleventh hour! (Thanks, Franny).

Last night I set up shop in the dining room, as it's a bit chilly in the studio--the old one, that is. Kurt's still hard at work on the new studio. I like working in the dining room, but I don't like all of the setting up and cleaning up it requires. Still, last night was productive.

I'm working on two new portraits of objects: the bird and cracker are one painting, the soap is another. Anyone out their ever tried painting a cracker? It's not easy. I've had a go at painting a cracker before; there's one in my tamale painting. It wasn't easy, either, but it offered a welcome challenge. So when I started this new painting, I thought I would know what the heck I was doing. I'll say it again: painting a cracker is not easy. There's something about the light and the color and the flakiness of the actual object that are just hard to convey.
























Last night I couldn't help but be reminded of Giorgio de Chirico's 1916 painting of crackers, Metaphysical Interior With Biscuits. This painting is part of the Menil's collection of Surrealist works (my favorite collection of paintings, anywhere, if you haven't already taken note), and I always stop and study these crackers, er, biscuits. De Chirico has really captured the essence of a biscuit.

I still have a lot to learn.

THANKSGIVING PROJECT 5 :: MORE PIE

After making three sweet potato pies in as many days, I still wasn't satisfied. The first two--the sweet potato buttermilk pies--were good, but they left me wanting a good old-fashioned sweet potato pie. What I really wanted was a pie like Jessie Sculark's--The Holy Grail of sweet potato pie, as far as I'm concerned.

On Saturday night, we had some friends over for gumbo, and I decided to take that opportunity to make another pie. It was good, but it still wasn't up to par. Truth be told, I rushed it. Still, it was a hit. So much of a hit that there weren't any leftovers. I take that back. I did have the last piece for breakfast on Sunday morning.

On Sunday afternoon I made yet another pie. I scoured my cookbooks for recipes and combined all of the best elements: add lemon juice, use brown sugar, double the vanilla. Sunday's pie was just what I had been waiting for. It doesn't hold a candle to Mrs. Sculark's, but it'll do. At least until I can get Mrs. Sculark to share her recipe--or a pie.

Go here to see more Thanksgiving weekend photographs.

THANKSGIVING PROJECT 4 :: GUMBO!

In keeping with day-after-Thanksgiving tradition, we had turkey sandwiches for brunch. Next to grilled cheese, this is the very best use of white bread. In fact, it might be the reason white bread exists. And canned cranberry sauce.

After loading up on some leftovers, I bellied up to the stove again to begin work on my very first gumbo. I had originally thought I would make gumbo as part of the Thanksgiving Day meal. Realizing that this was an overly ambitious enterprise, good sense finally took over, and I decided to let the gumbo making wait until Friday.

The recipe is from Donald Link, chef/owner of Cochon in New Orleans and is a black-eyed pea pork gumbo. He made it for an event I attended recently, and it was out of this world. I figured that this would be the perfect "beginners" gumbo for no other reason that the fact that I liked it, was given the recipe and had the ingredients. I knew going in that the trickiest part would be making the roux. I've eaten a lot of gumbo and interviewed a lot of folks about gumbo, and the roux making is the fine art to the whole shebang. It's hard to get dark, easy to burn, and if you get it wrong, you might as well not make the gumbo. So after getting myself psyched up for the task, I got out all of my tools, put on my apron, and dedicated myself to the project. An hour later, I had this glorious roux. I mean, just look at it. It's so dark and silky! I had Kurt come and revel in its beauty as soon as it was done. And yes, I gave my self a little pat on the back. Making a decent roux is seriously satisfying. And the gumbo was excellent, if I do say so myself.



I've decided that the Friday after Thanksgiving will forever and always be my gumbo making day. It's a wonderful way to spend an afternoon. That, and I made enough to share. Saturday afternoon Kurt and I delivered clean dishes and quarts of gumbo to our friends.



Go here to learn how to make a roux.

Go here to see more Thanksgiving weekend photographs.

THANKSGIVING PROJECT 3 :: SPLITTIN' WOOD

After recovering the chairs, baking the pies, making the soup, and putting the turkeys in the oven, our guests arrived. We poured drinks. We went for a walk in the woods. We warmed up with mugs of carrot orange soup. And then the guys headed to the pond's edge to split some wood for the fire.

After the splitting of the wood, it was time to eat. The turkeys came out of the oven, the sides found their way to the table, and so did we. The meal was wonderful and the company divine.

After dinner, we sat by the fire. We drank. We laughed. We ate pie. And there were a few marshmallows thrown in for good measure.

Go here to see more Thanksgiving weekend photographs.

THANKSGIVING PROJECT 2 :: SOUP + PIE

After the chairs were covered, we were off to the kitchen. Kurt, of course, made the turkey--two of them, actually. I made all things orange: a carrot orange soup and two sweet potato buttermilk pies.

The pie recipe is from the Lee Bros. Southern Cookbook (thanks Matt and Ted!). I've had the book for a while but haven't managed to make anything from it, until now. I thought it would be fun to make a different kind of sweet potato pie. This one is awfully pretty and very yummy. Still, I missed having a regular old potato pie. So I made one on Saturday.

Unfortunately, the Saturday pie disappeared fast (we had dinner guests) and went undocumented. It was a good one, though. Trust me.

Go here to see more Thanksgiving weekend photographs.

THANKSGIVING PROJECT 1 :: SIX CHAIRS

A week ago, when I was out window shopping, I found a set of six wood dining room chairs. Technically, I don't really need any new chairs. But since my mother is holding the remaining two chairs of my dining room set hostage, and since we were having five people over for Thanksgiving dinner, I snatched them up. What really convinced me, though, was the price: six chairs for $125. What a steal, right? The only catch was that the seats needed to be recovered. No problem. I found some great moss green material, and Kurt and I got to work recovering these six wonderful new-to-us chairs on Thanksgiving morning. It was fun to start the day with a little project, working together, making something old new again, and preparing for our guests. The new chairs look fantastic, and they certainly helped to make our Thanksgiving table look festive and inviting.

Go here to see more Thanksgiving weekend photographs.

IT WAS A GOOD WEEKEND

Two turkeys, three pies, and one giant pot of gumbo. And, of course, lots of napping.

Check back Monday for a complete Thanksgiving recap.

LET THERE BE PIE

STUDIO CONSTRUCTION, DAY 2

Yesterday, Kurt mixed what I think he said to be about two tons of cement--by hand--to set the posts for my new studio. Wow, that's a lot of cement.

Today, it's raining, so there might not be much progress. No matter, though. We have a table to set and pies to bake.

Thanks for all of your hard work, my love!

TABLE OF OBJECTS

I was searching for something online the other day, when I happened upon the blog Abbey Goes Design Scouting. Something in her post jibed with what I was searching for and brought me to this glorious table.

Miss Abbey found this incredible piece on the Housing Works Auction's photostream on Flickr. Oddly enough, it turns out that Housing Works is an auction company/thrift store in New York. The images of this table are from last year and don't have any descriptive information associated with them. Probably a good thing, since, if it were a current post, I'd be calling New York, asking about a table. What's completely bizarre, though, is that someone's fantastic collection of objects is in this table--and it's for sale. Or was. How could someone let go of all of those treasures?

















There's a similar table on view at the Menil Collection in Houston, TX. It's part of the Wunderkammer room within the permanent collection of Surrealist works. The room houses an array of objects that captivated the surrealists--objects they collected and kept in their studios. One of these objects is a table that belonged to Dominique de Menil, and it's a table just like this one--a table of objects. According to the description of the piece, Mrs. deMenil kept this table in her home as something to entice and entertain visiting children.

So now I am duly inspired to create a table of my own. I certainly have enough little treasures to fill its cubbies. And if not, I look forward to collecting more.

My first new project for the studio.

STUDIO CONSTRUCTION, DAY 1

Yesterday, Kurt spent the most of the afternoon clearing the land, squaring the foundation, and digging holes for posts. Today, he'll set the posts. Such progress!

Jackson and Friday are pitching in, too. Jackson is keeping watch for critters crossing the perimeter, and Friday is making sure no one lays a hand on Kurt's stack of lumber. Best construction crew, ever.

WINDOW SHOPPING

Saturday was spent window shopping. Literally.

Kurt has begun work on my new studio and, as my little doodle of what I wanted this thing to be started to come alive, I realized a very important thing: a studio needs windows. Lots of windows.

So Saturday I had the wonderful assignment of scouring Oxford's antique malls and thrift stores, searching for windows. I found a lot. But a lot were in bad shape and many were overpriced. I did manage to find a few bargains, though, and am overjoyed at the thought of my new studio being awash in natural light.

Studio Project 2007 will be in full swing this week (in between cooking turkeys and baking pies) so check back for updates!





















Photograph from the Whitney Art Works website.

AMY ART (AND HOUSE) IN DEEP MAGAZINE

It's been a big week for press around here. Yesterday I picked up the Nov./Dec. issue of Deep magazine, which includes a little piece I wrote about my house, my objects, and my art. I'm pretty pleased with how it turned out. The layout is lovely (ten pages!). It's kind of weird to see the corners of my home in the pages of a magazine, but it's super nice to be able to share who I am, what I do, and where I live. I hope folks out there enjoy it all.

I've contributed to Deep before. They did quite a large photo essay on Southern food about a year ago, which included many photographs from my fieldwork for the Southern Foodways Alliance. Soon after that, they featured my Southern Serenade painting on the back page. Annabelle Carr, Deep's editor, has been a wonderful supporter of my work. It was her idea for me to contribute a piece on my art and my world for this issue. Thanks for the ink, Miss Annabelle!

AMY ART IN Y'ALL MAGAZINE

My "They're Red Hot" painting is the opening image for an article on the Mississippi Delta Hot Tamale Trail that appears in the Nov./Dec. issue of Y'All magazine. Many thanks to local writer Luke Duncan for giving the Tamale Trail such great press and for asking to use my painting to help illustrate the piece.

For those of you who don't know (and maybe can't get your hands on a copy of Y'All), the Mississippi Delta Hot Tamale Trail is a documentary project produced by the Southern Foodways Alliance, aka my day job. I conducted the fieldwork for the Trail, and it remains one of the projects that is closest to my heart. And really, who doesn't love tamales?

For a detailed description of my painting, go here.

Thanks, again, Luke!

STORIES IN CIGAR BOXES

Today, while looking for something else, I came across the photograph above. I haven't seen it since I took it almost five years ago. Perhaps Birney Imes was still swimming around in my head. Or maybe it was just a cigar box.

Imes's book Whispering Pines, which I mentioned in yesterday's post, is a document of the now defunct roadhouse of the same name. What's more, though, is that it's a document of a man's life and the relics he left behind.

Blume Triplett didn't throw anything away, and most of the things he kept were small enough to fit in cigar boxes. Hundreds of cigar boxes. So among the photographs Imes took of Triplett laughing at the bar, eating lunch, and shooting pistols, are haunting images of his many collections--little still lifes of objects.

The still life above is a photograph I took while documenting the Cotton Row Club in Greenwood, MS. I'm not entirely sure I even knew about Whispering Pines back then, but three's certainly a connection there. A while later, I did this painting, which was, obviously, inspired by the photograph. It's kind of hard for me to look at it now (painting on particle board, what was I thinking?!), but I do still love the memories it evokes of that time and place--and those objects.

I have no idea what was in the cigar box.

IF BIRNEY MET BIG MAMA

Big Mama's Restaurant in Lambert, MS. It used to be Club Nubian.

















Chandelier over the bar, where you can now get drunk on soul food, not cocktails.



Riverside Lounge in Shaw, MS, by Birney Imes, 1986.

I think of Birney Imes so often when I'm in the Delta. His photographs of rural juke joints take my breath away. Make a point to find his book Juke Joint, if you don't know it already. And if you don't know the book, you might recognize the photograph that's the cover of Lucinda Williams' album Car Wheels on A Gravel Road. It's one of his.

In addition to spending years documenting Mississippi's rural jukes, Imes spent years hanging out at one of them: Whispering Pines. Now Whispering Pines wasn't actually a juke; it was a club that, back in it's heyday, had one side for white patrons, another for black. The place fell into decline, but it's owner, Mr. Blume Triplett, stuck around. He entertained guests. He saved everything. Imes visited and took photographs. Those photographs became a book called Whispering Pines. It's a stunning collection of images.

I'd love to see Imes' interpretation of Big Mama's because I certainly can't do the place justice.

PIE LOVE

My college roommate, Katie Morris, who happens to live in Baltimore, just sent me this photograph. She bought a couple of my prints on etsy a few weeks back (hence the "Made in Mississippi" tag) and happened to have them sitting on her sideboard--the same sideboard upon which she displayed her friend Nan's homemade apple pie one evening. And wouldn't you know it, a pie still life was born.

Thanks for the pie love, Katie!

SATURDAY IN THE DELTA

Guard Donkey (!) :: Indianola, MS

















Greens & Batteries :: Greenwood, MS

















Clearance Sale :: Belzoni, MS

DESSERT IN THE DELTA

I went to the Delta yesterday--Cleveland, MS, to be more precise--to attend the Delta Center for Culture and Learning's 4th Annual Community Recognition Luncheon. It was a wonderful event, in part because I got to see many people I haven't seen in ages. I was especially happy to get to see my friends Mary and Sylvester Hoover, who were two of the day's honorees. It was a festive afternoon.

On my drive home, I stopped in to see another friend: Walter Sculark in Drew. He and his wife Jessie used to operate the PC (People's Choice) Diner in downtown Drew, where you could get a fabulous meat-and-three. Recently, though, they moved their business out to HWY 61 and changed their menu. They now sell burgers, bbq, and hot tamales. Thank goodness, though, Jessie is still making her incredible sweet potato pie. Hers is wonderfully dense, not too spicy, and packed with vanilla. The slice pictured above didn't last long.

ONIONS MAKE YOU CRY

Onions, themselves, don't make you cry, but cutting them does. And that is the subject of this painting. The object that inspired the painting was the onion. I've love the color of purple onions and felt like having a go at painting one. Then the onion led to the vintage sunglasses, which led to the vintage handkerchief (or pocket scarf, if you prefer), which made this, then, a portrait of three objects. As I began the piece, I knew I wanted it to be about the act of cutting onions. The narrative that evolved is about a girl's grandmother, who is superstitious about cutting onions. She believes that they won't make you cry if you wear sunglasses, but she keeps her handkerchief in her apron pocket, just in case.

This painting is part of my new series, "The History of Objects," which will be on view at Koelsch Gallery in Houston, Texas, from Nov. 29 through Dec. 29.

BALTIMORE ON MY MIND AND IN MY EARS

Yesterday's post got me all sentimental about my college days spent in Baltimore. With Baltimore on my mind this morning, I decided to wear some earrings that were made by my college friend Heather Perry. She's still making jewelry. You can view her beautiful new work here.

STOP MAKING SENSE

David Byrne
Doggie Chew Toy, 2006
Embroidery on upholstery fabricPaper Size: 18 x 14 inches
Printed by Pamplemousse Press
Published by Pace MacGill Gallery
Published by Pace Editions, Inc.
Edition of 5


David Byrne makes prints!
David Byrne has a blog!
David Byrne was born in Scotland?

David Byrne is one of those threads that has been a part of the fabric of my life for almost as long as I can remember. Really. Well, at least since I was fourteen.

I was a freshman in high school when the Talking Heads' album Stop Making Sense came out, which was an important event in music history, as well as my life as a teenager. The album was was, of course, the soundtrack to the movie of the same name, which depicts the Talking Heads performing live in all their glory. What was even more glorious, though, was that in 1984 the River Oaks Theater had a midnight showing of Stop Making Sense. I vividly remember a big group of us going and dancing on the stage in front of the screen through the entire thing. Good times.

After high school, I headed to art school: Maryland Institute College of Art (MICA) in Baltimore. My freshman year, David Byrne's album Rei Momo was released. His tour brought him through Baltimore not only to perform, but to give a talk at my school. Yep, David Byrne attended MICA, if only for a moment. After about a year there, he transferred to that other art school in Rhode Island. Anyway, he gave great talk. I sat on the front row. But still, there's more. My friend Kathy Mervine happened to check out a book on filmmaking from the school library one day, and when she went to sign the check-out card (remember those?), she happened to notice that David Byrne signed out the very same book in 1972. Needless to say, she pocketed that card. And if memory serves, she had him sign it again after his lecture. I haven't kept up with Kathy, but here's hoping she has kept up with that card.

Okay, so jump ahead a few years to my life here in Mississippi. I moved here in 2001, the same year Mr. Byrne's book The New Sins came out. And guess what? Oxford was one of the stops on his book tour. I kid you not. And when he came to town, he had lunch at Ajax Diner. At the bar. Two seats away from me. A few things from that brief encounter stand out: he rode a bike around town, he was wearing some killer wingtips, and he did not tip his server. I reluctantly forgave him for that last thing and went to his book signing later on that day. He did, indeed, sign my copy of the book and then added the word "Invisible!" I think he wrote a different word for each person. Unfortunately, he didn't take the time to do any personal inscriptions--no "To Amy, We'll always have Baltimore." I was pretty bummed.

Last week I was reminded of my old friend Dave as I listened to NPR's All Songs Considered. His 1983 album The Knee Plays has just been re-released on CD. After hearing that bit of news, I Googled the album title and lo and behold, I found his blog. David Byrne blogs! What a revelation! It's a good blog, too. He calls it a journal but whatever.

Byrne is doing some live gigs with the re-release of The Knee Plays. It would be cool to catch one of his shows again. Maybe there will be one in Baltimore.

FOR THE LOVE OF DRAWING

It was a woefully unproductive weekend at the homestead--artistically speaking, anyway. Instead of working on paintings for my upcoming exhibit, I walked in the woods, sat by the fire, made biscuits, and played Scrabble with Kurt. But then sometime yesterday afternoon I had a sudden and very strong urge to draw.

Drawing is something that, oddly enough, I don't do very often. Sure, I make doodles at work and cards to give to friends, but to actually sit down and draw from life is a rare, rare thing. Which is odd, really, because I absolutely love to draw. There's something about putting pencil to paper that is completely satisfying. And a pencil drawing really looks like a drawing. You can see the motion of the artist's hand, the choices, the process.

So yesterday, I drew.

The drawing above is just a little something I did in my sketchbook. Which brings up something else about drawing: it's something I used to do practically every day. I started keeping a sketchbook when I was fourteen. And, believe it or not, I pretty much maintained a sketchbook for twenty years. But then something happened. Real life, probably. Drawing somehow fell by the wayside. And since I've been in Mississippi, which is going on seven years now, I've worked in a single book; I've been collecting ideas and images in one little sketchbook for all of that time. Embarrassing, really. More than that, though, it's a shame.

Blogger and creative person Amanda Soule posted a link to a wonderful lecture on creativity and education given by Sir Ken Robinson last year. Watching the video, I couldn't help but think that not only are children denied creative growth and expression in the classroom, but we adults deny ourselves, as well.

I know I'll never stick to the doing-something-a-day idea, but I am going to make a concerted effort to draw more often, perhaps semi-regularly. The folks over at DrawMo! have the same idea. They're definitely on to something.

WEEKEND @ THE HOMESTEAD

IDENTITY CRISIS

First, a confession: I subscribe to a Google alert for "Amy Evans." This means that any time the name "Amy Evans" shows up on the World Wide Web, I get an email about it. Well yesterday I found out that I did a bad, bad thing. I stabbed my husband. Of course it wasn't actually me but another Amy Evans, who happens to live in Panama City, Florida. What were you thinking, Amy?

Believe it or not, there are quite a few of me out there. There's the pianist, the painter, the realtor, the model, and, of course, the porn star (click at your own risk).

And then there's me.