Melrose Heights Art in the Yard Epitomizes Grass Roots Arts Organization - Sunday, October 4th

all photos courtesy of Lee Ann Kornegay

JASPER loves nothing more than grass roots arts organizing, so we’ve been watching from behind our masks as MELROSE ART IN THE YARD has grown from its first small gathering of neighbors in need of sharing their art to an almost-but-not-quite full fledged arts festival.

The heart-child of Lee Ann Kornegay, Harriet Green, and Lila McCullough, Melrose Art in the Yard held its first gathering of artists in May when, after 6 weeks of sheltering in place, the women and their neighbors were beginning to not only experience cabin fever, but to yearn for the unique kind of mental and spiritual stimulation that viewing a collection of art can offer. With COVID-sponsored safety and social distancing being a top priority, the neighbors made use of the shared resource they have in abundance - the streets and yards that connect them. Melrose Art in the Yard was born.

“My motivation was that I really wanted to have something my elderly parents could participate in and look forward to,” Kornegay says. “Knowing we had many artists in the area, we picked a date and had a handful of folks participate. We brought in a food truck and invited the neighbors to get out with their families and stroll the historic community as a distraction from the lock down.” 

“People loved it,” she continues, “and now we are on our third event with over 30 participants.  Most actually live in the neighborhood while other artists have asked to join in, not having very many options at this time to show their work in a safe environment.”

Participating artists are spread throughout the neighborhood with most of the activity centered around Shirley, Hagood, and Gladden Streets. The list of artists includes but is not limited to Betty Kornegay-Kaneft and Jack Kaneft, Julie and Larry Webster, Betsy Kaemmerlin, Alex Ruskell, Bob Waites and Jenks Farmer, Rubin Garcia, Laura Ray, Melissa Ligon, Kathryn Van Aernum, Flavia Novatelli, Bohumila Augustinova, Valerie Lamott, Diko Pekdemir-Lewis, Jane Dillard, Laura Rav, and Rob Shaw. Elaine Delk and Hope McClure will have antiques and vintage items. Columbia City Ballet soloist Anna Porter will prove she is as talented in the kitchen as she is on the dance floor with her baked goods. And, in addition to Kids’ Tables, Historic Columbia and the League of Women Voters will be there along with noshes from Mary’s Arepas, Brown Sistaz Island Vibz, and Lick Pops.

Artist - Angela Hughes Zokan

Artist - Krissy Walters Militello

There will even be music in the streets! Preach Jacobs will spinning from 3 - 5 pm on Melrose Street and The Defenders, featuring Rhodes Bailey and Jake Erwin, will perform on the corner of Hagood and Melrose from 5 - 7.

There is no admission to attend and Jasper isn’t sure if there will be potties available. Don’t count on being able to use your credit cards either, though some folx may have that capacity. This is truly grass roots, y’all. But we do know that hand sanitizing stations will be situated throughout the area and SOCIAL DISTANCING AND MASKS WILL BE REQUIRED.

Congratulations to all involved for this inspiring example of problem solving, cooperation, and community spirit. Let us know about other opportunities to enjoy the arts in the area and we’ll do our best to share the news.

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Jasper Talks with Benjamin Moore, aka Farticus, about the "Plandemic," Egon Schiele, Basquiat, BLM, His Parents, and the Way Forward for the Columbia Arts Community

“Brown artists in alignment with the BLM movement aren't asking to be placed on a pedestal until things somehow "blow over", we aren't asking anything at all. We're demanding that in exchange for our support (the black dollar) that we share the spaces where decisions formulated.”

- Benjamin Moore, aka Farticus

I first met Farticus a few years back when he was in the middle of installing a group show at the old Tapp’s Art Center on Main. Caitlin Bright, director of the center, introduced us and it was in those last few chaotic hours before First Thursday when the old building would absolutely pulse with the music and the energy of our favorite night of the month.

I’m not sure how or why I missed the opportunity to better get to know Farticus back then, but that is what it was - a missed opportunity.

The young artist and Columbia, SC native was kind enough to participate in a virtual interview with Jasper last week and we’re honored now to share his honest and evocative perspectives with our readers.

-Cindi Boiter

JASPER: First, tell us about the work you do -- what is your discipline/medium, how long have you been at it, are you formally trained (if so, where and when) or are you self-taught? 

MOORE: I am a self-taught, multi-disciplinary visual designer and creative director best known for my experimentation with texture, typography, semiotics, color theory and reinvention of pop culture references. I use nostalgic and sci-fi elements to translate an abstract perspective of daily life in an aesthetically consistent, distinct, and relatable format. I’m experienced in textile mediums (collaging, watercolor and acrylic painting, crayon, colored pencil, marker, and more). The spectrum of my pieces varies from detailed, layered and seemingly chaotic mixed media to clean and simplistic layouts emphasizing composition, juxtaposition, and effective advertisement. I’ve been experimenting with mediums of expression for nearly a decade. 

JASPER: How old are you and how would you describe yourself philosophically?  

MOORE: I’m not one to give age too much power. I feel it can misrepresent maturity in a lot of ways, so I tend to think of it purely as an indicator of inherited wisdom. Experience is just as good a term. Not to say that inherited wisdom and experience is always applied. I’m 29 but when most people ask, I just tell em I’m 8… turned to the side. Philosophically speaking, I’m a black man with heightened intuition. 

JASPER: Who have been your major influences as an artist?

MOORE: Artists that have had a major influence on me are: Jean Michel Basquiat, Romare Bearden, Frank Stella, Egon Schiele, Mark Rothko, Ellis Wilson, Vincent Van Gogh, Pablo Picasso, Hajime Sorayama, Tekashi Murakami, Kanye West, and of course my parents. 

JASPER: Can you talk about how your parents have influenced you as an artist?

MOORE: Well, outside of showering me with support and encouragement, they're two of the most resourceful, self-motivated, and inspiring people in my life. My father is an entrepreneur. That's a different level of creativity. And my mother is an interior designer. They're both sticklers about quality, thoroughness, and professionalism but they don't take shit from anybody. Their taste and attitude are most definitely hereditary.  

“I truly believe we navigate on a timeline of tasks. Some are born undoubtedly aware of their purpose and contributions to the human experience. Others like myself spend a lifetime figuring it out. As artists, we help those that are less expressive understand, appreciate, and better document their individual timelines.”

JASPER: It's super interesting that both sci-fi and nostalgia find voice in your art. Care to speculate on why that may be?

MOORE: Nostalgia is a lot like DNA. It's a shared consciousness to those that experienced whatever visual, sound, or event. I feel it's unavoidable being that history repeats itself. As for sci-fi, it's an alternate reality, oftentimes future tense. You mix memory with prophecy or premonition and you've got artwork that's timeless. When I incorporate these elements, I'm inserting my personal preferences into an agreed upon "reality" to create my own. 

JASPER: I was glad to hear you mention Egon Schiele as one of your influences. You probably know that Schiele died at the young age of 28 during the Spanish flu pandemic. It's heartbreaking to think of the loss of such a powerful artist at such a young age -- and especially when we're experiencing a similar pandemic in 2020. Can you reflect on this as a young artist and share your thoughts with us?

MOORE: I hadn't realized the Spanish flu was his cause of death, but I too found his early demise interesting and unfortunate. It helped me appreciate self-portraits that much more. Inspired me to make as many of myself as I could. If you've ever heard of The 27 Club, Jean Michel Basquiat too had an untimely transition. I truly believe we navigate on a timeline of tasks. Some are born undoubtedly aware of their purpose and contributions to the human experience. Others like myself spend a lifetime figuring it out. As artists, we help those that are less expressive understand, appreciate, and better document their individual timelines. The way art appreciates once an artist transitions may have everything to do with the messages and documentation in which they dedicated themselves to, finally being exalted. It's all in divine and supreme timing.  

JASPER: Can you tell us about your pseudonym please? What is its origin and do you/will you continue to use it as an artist?

MOORE: The pseudonym is an icebreaker and an easy way for me to gauge personality types. Some refuse to call me it, some are apprehensive but accepting of it, others can't stop themselves from saying it. I have friends that abbreviate my name to PDF, honestly, both Fart and Farticus were given to me as nicknames. Of course, Fart came first. An ex-girlfriend began calling me Fart once we had gotten comfortable enough to fart around one another. It helped me realize we only fart around people we love. I've since referred to the moniker as me humbly saying I feel as though I'm the shit and that anything we feel deep in our gut is worthy of being expressed. As for the .PDF portion, I enjoy comparing humans to large computer files. All these aspirations, insecurities, abilities, secrets, and desires compressed into this single mind and body, we're more computer like than we'd like to admit.  Above all else, the name is unforgettable, and I have a theory that 3-5-character words have the highest success rate of being both popular and iconic.

JASPER: How has the pandemic impacted you and your ability to work and share your work as an artist?

MOORE: This plandemic (not a typo) has been fruitful to those closest to me. As artists, rebirth and abrupt adaptation is nothing we're unfamiliar with. What this moment is allowing is a more purposeful and accurate perspective of life. Once again, my ideas of past and future welding into one are being presented all around me. I've always imagined at what point will the future have progressed so much so that it would become the past. I see people getting to the core of who and what matters most, individually, and collectively. We're divvying our days more wisely, giving attention to our diet, curating our abodes, enjoying our environments in a more mindful way, and promoting personal space. 2020 has pushed us into our own realities and broken us into tribes that build trust through health and wellness. My artworks are no more difficult or easy to share than before, but the connection with my audience is greater. My audience actually grew by several hundred. I used these moments of stillness to get more familiar with commerce and production, I discovered I have a passion for cooking and preparing brightly colored dishes, my determination to make my home double as a creative space even encouraged me to transform my front room into a functioning gallery. I can't describe how motivated that keeps me to produce full show concepts with ready to hang artwork, something I would never expect to be thinking about given the current predicament and recent events.

JASPER: How can we, as a community of artists and arts lovers, support and promote the BLM movement in a way that you and your cohort of young artists of color would realize?

MOORE: The BLM movement (not the organization because we truly have no idea how that crowdfunded money is being used) is one of Utopian coexistence via equality and updated legislation. The thing is, abolishing privilege in a system and society founded on what can be viewed as injustices, would require a new system and society in its entirety. I don't like using words like oppressed to describe people that look like me, but that's the reality of it, and pacifying any specific group with minimal revisions to a system that rewards acts of oppression will never yield long term results. It's the equivalent of taping a dam with more leaks than logical for it to work efficiently but choosing to continue doing so rather than completely destroying and rebuilding the dam. Performative acts are counteractive. Brown artists in alignment with the BLM movement aren't asking to be placed on a pedestal until things somehow "blow over", we aren't asking anything at all. We're demanding that in exchange for our support (the black dollar) that we share the spaces where decisions formulated. We either need more companies and brands built on the premise of equal representation or more that represent only us. Enterprises founded before equality was worth mentioning, ones that failed to even the playing field and instead capitalized on our disadvantages are simply outdated. The standard of white supremacy be it beauty, success, whatever, is outdated. I guess what I'm saying is, including us (as much as I hate that word and sentiment) in the genesis of an idea rather than as an afterthought is the best way to support and promote our voices to those willing to listen. 

Fall Lines 2020 Saluda River Prize for Poetry Winner LISA HAMMOND talks with Jasper & Shares a New Poem

Hydrangeas 

by Lisa Hammond

They plant them in trailer parks. I am standing

between the topiaries and the statuary, mossy urns

hiding me from the women’s view. Fragrant hoops

and balls, rising spires of rosemary—they do not

know I can hear them, back behind stone fountains

splashing, zen temple bell, the little St. Francis.

Poor Hortensia, with her matronly name, flowers

I mostly see now run rampant alongside fallen fences,

old foundations, old fashioned, blowsy pink or blue.

At home I have the county extension agent’s flyer,

Change the pH of Your Soil, and I remember

how the grandmothers buried tin cans at the roots,

to bring out their blue eyes. I loved the fat conspicuous

blooms, thick-barked stems, how they’d overtake beds

when your back was turned. One neighbor poured hot

bacon grease on roots to kill hers—come spring they’d leg

themselves right up over her sorry fence again. Standing

in the nursery next to the pot feet, those two old ladies

so like that cranky neighbor, I remember the spring

I planted mine, my first year in the new house, how

I hoarded catalogues, Ayesah or Annabelle, Blue Bunny

or Snowqueen, how the first years it struggled, every

winter I thought it dead, every spring it crept back

a bit, a lone small nosegay budding, nothing like

the wild oakleaf outside my old bedroom window.

I had thought them so Southern Living, lacecaps

and mopheads trailing with grapevine over the silver

and linen. I carried them at my cousin’s wedding,

thirsty bouquet drooping alongside the sheer ribbon

before well before the toasts, photographs hurried.

O Dear Delores, O Silverleaf, O Brussels Lace,

here your solitary representative, a potbound pink

Everlasting tucked away behind begonias, object

of scorn. O Endless Summer, unhurried maiden,

I wait months for your snowballs, each heavy flower

spreading open to the wind, minding her own business.

~~~

Lisa Hammond

Earlier this summer Jasper announced the winners of the Fall Lines 2020 Broad River Prize for Prose & the Saluda River Prize for Poetry and shared some of winner Randy Spencer’s prose and process.

Today we’re delighted to talk with Lisa Hammond, winner of our poetry prize.

Welcome Lisa!

JASPER: For the Jasper followers who haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you yet, please tell us a bit about how you got to where you are now. For example, where did you grow up and go to school, and how and when did you make your way to Columbia?

HAMMOND: Cindi, thank you so much for the chance to meet some new friends through Jasper! I’m originally from South Carolina, born in Florence, and I’ve lived in South Carolina most of my life. I was a first-generation college student at Francis Marion and then went to graduate school at the University of Alabama. I felt like such a country girl on campus (well, I was such a country girl!)—it was a big, exciting university, amazing faculty and writers, beautiful architecture, a great library and natural history museum. When I finished my PhD, I taught for two years at Michigan State University. I loved the fall in Michigan, but winters seemed endless. I was very fortunate to find a job at a small university in Lancaster, South Carolina, close to my family, and I have been there ever since.

JASPER: Call you tell us about your work as a professor as USC Lancaster? What do you teach and what is your area of research?

HAMMOND: Most of my teaching is first-year composition, general education courses—so ENGL 101 and 102, Intro to Poetry, that sort of thing. I enjoy teaching those courses because I remember so well what it felt like to be a new college student who had no idea what to expect from college. I love helping students learn to see from different perspectives, to understand their preconceptions and to test those—do they always hold up? how does new information change your first way of thinking about and seeing a question? how do you present your ideas in a persuasive way? You hear a lot these days that college professors indoctrinate students—goodness, sometimes it feels like a victory if I can get them to do the reading! I think what we are actually seeing is students beginning to understand new ways to read, interpret, analyze. Those processes, fully engaged, change your thinking and your life.

Most of my research falls under the broad category of gender issues in American literature and culture. I’ve done a good bit of research on teaching with technology—I taught my first online women’s studies class in 2000, which is hard to believe now. I’ve written a great deal about Ursula K. Le Guin, one of American’s most talented and powerful writers. I study contemporary American women’s memoirs about motherhood. And I gave a talk at a conference about a year and a half ago called “What We Did in the Resistance: Public Poetry, Political Response, and the Women’s March” that I should really finish up as an article, but the political landscape is changing so quickly that it’s hard to keep up with. I’ve lately focused more on writing and publishing my own poetry as my scholarly work, but I like to stay in touch with my academic research areas too—my interest in one area informs my work in the other. Sometimes that means it takes me a long time to finish a project, but I think the work is richer for the connections.  

JASPER: Does your work at the university inform your writing much? How so?

HAMMOND: Grant Snider, the artist of the Incidental Comics series, has this great comic called Day Jobs of the Poets. I am pretty sure that if I won the lottery and suddenly could write full-time, I wouldn’t want to. I’m very lucky to have a professional life with a lot of range, many interesting projects and colleagues and students, so I often stumble across ideas at work that plant writing seeds. One drawback to my work for my writing life, though, is that I write a great deal for my job; the larger part of my job the last few years is my work as Director of Institutional Effectiveness and Research at USC Lancaster. I write a series of large reports every year. I just finished our annual state agency accountability report for the Governor and the General Assembly. Writing a university reaccreditation compliance document and writing a poem are two very different projects, but they both use my writing brain. So when I’m on deadline for large work writing projects, my own writing really dwindles in those periods.

My teaching, though, often brings me back to my own writing. Teaching any kind of writing keeps you close to your own writing, I find. In the last few years, I’ve been teaching more upper-level courses writing courses. I teach a senior-level business writing class that is fascinating—so much analysis of your audience there, understanding how to direct a message. I’m teaching an internship class right now, helping students learn outside the classroom; those students work in all kinds of organizations and businesses, so I have the opportunity to learn more about their careers and interests and am always running across interesting new ideas as I respond to their writing. I occasionally get to teach a 300-level creative writing class, which I LOVE because I write alongside my students. I write so much more in the semesters I teach that class because I stay in a daily writing practice with them. I find that writing a little every day means that I rarely finish a first draft of a poem in a sitting, but I write more over time. If I waited until I have big blocks of time, I’d never write another poem again.

JASPER: Are you primarily a poet, or do you practice prose writing as well?

HAMMOND: My prose writing is largely strategic planning documents! I am working on a prose poem series right now, which is something of a surprise for me, because I have always been in love with the poetic line and stanza form. Where does the line break? How does using couplets change the rhythm of the poem? The prose poem is an interesting challenge because you can’t rely on the line break to help you signal the importance of a word, for example. It’s also freeing; sometimes I spend so much time worrying a poem over stanzas and lines, but with the prose poem, you just start and keep going. The rhythm of a prose poems is different too, more accumulative, sometimes faster, so there’s an interesting opportunity to find ways to vary those rhythmic patterns. I’m finding these poems great fun to write, although I sometimes have to stop myself stewing over a line that ends with of, for example, or the—it’s not really a line, I have to tell myself. But often I tweak the spot that’s bugging me to shift the end word anyhow.

My mother took me to the library every week, usually when we came into town to the laundromat. She tells me I was an old soul early on

JASPER: Are you a life-long poet or did you begin writing later in life? What was the impetus for you to start writing?

HAMMOND: I can’t remember starting to write, so I’d say that qualifies me as a lifelong poet! (That sounds like a grand title, doesn’t it?) I come from a family of storytellers. My mother took me to the library every week, usually when we came into town to the laundromat. She tells me I was an old soul early on; I remember a second-grade teacher who made a deal with me—as soon as you finish your work for the day, you can skip recess and read the rest of the day. What a great year that was! I teach students who want to be writers that first they must read, often and widely. It may be that writing just runs in the family, though. One of my cousins is a poet, and so is my daughter. My daughter is at least as good a poet at twenty-five as I am now after a lifetime’s practice. Maybe better, if you consider that she won this same prize in 2018. I have a dear artist friend who says that it takes three generations to make a real artist. Now, having said that, let me hasten to add—talent is not inborn. What makes a writer is writing. Practice and persistence and putting the pen to the page, the fingers to the keyboard. 

JASPER: Who has influenced your writing and who are some of your favorite writers?

HAMMOND: I mentioned Ursula K. Le Guin above; one thing I love and admire about her writing is that her books can be so different from each other. When people ask me what Le Guin they should read, I say, well, if you like myths and fairy tales, The Wizard of Earthsea. If you like politics, The Dispossessed. If you like exploration, The Left Hand of Darkness. I love how she challenges her readers and herself. When The Left Hand of Darkness was published, she faced criticism for using male-gendered pronouns to describe an androgynous race. She defended her thought experiment and found it good—and then she came back several years later and said, wow, wasn’t I defensive? and I was wrong. She wrote an afterword for a later edition acknowledging her critics’ and imagining other ways she could have written the book. She changed the pronouns in three different chapters—three different approaches to the pronoun problem—so readers could see how the change affected their perception of the characters. She couldn’t rewrite the book, but she never stopped seeing it again either. I think she would have loved to see the current moment when the third person pronouns have been accepted by major style guides. What a gift, to watch a writer grow and change over such a long and amazing career.

I read a great deal of contemporary poetry, keeping a stack of books in rotation on my desk when I am writing: Claudia Emerson, Camille Dungy, Louise Glück, Kevin Young. Chelsea Rathburn, Tina Mozelle Braziel, Li-Young Lee, Eavan Boland, Nikky Finney. I tend to stay close to the lyric exploration of ordinary moments, so I love Linda Pastan, and Pablo Neruda’s Odes to Common Things is a special favorite. I am also fascinated by how we understand history through poetry—Robin Coste Lewis does amazing things in Voyage of the Sable Venus. And Terrance Hayes’s American Sonnet for My Past and Future Assassin, wow. I love poetry anthologies as a way of meeting new poets and finding things outside of what I might normally first reach for. Sandra Beasley’s Vinegar and Char: Verse from the Southern Foodways Alliance. Sam Hamill’s The Erotic Spirit: An Anthology of Poems of Sensuality, Love, and Longing. Sandra Gilbert’s Inventions of Farewell: A Book of Elegies. You can while away quite a few lovely quiet hours with food, sex, and death.

And once you see something a new way, you can’t unsee it.

JASPER: You are the winner of the Saluda River Prize for Poetry in this year’s Fall Lines – a literary convergence for your poem, Hydrangeas, with which we opened this post. What can you tell us about the roots, if you will, of your poem Hydrangeas?

HAMMOND: Hydrangeas come in so many beautiful varieties, with all these amazing names.  Some names suggest the flower itself, like Brussels Lace, while others have these old-fashioned people names like Hortensia. The names are a song by themselves.

Hydrangeas seem to embody the contradictions of the South, lovely and vexed all at once. As part of the traditions of Southern entertaining, they suggest wealth and elegance, but some see them as common pests. I’m not sure they are actually classified as invasive plants, but some people do seem to see them that way. And they can change colors, like magic! How can the same plant mean such different things? But this is true throughout the South, with the many ways we tell our histories. The same wedding venue through one set of eyes is a gracious home, but through another, it is a haunted gravesite of enslaved people whose names have been erased. And once you see something a new way, you can’t unsee it. I can’t imagine wanting to. Hydrangeas grow in elegant Charleston gardens, but they also grow in ditches. In our grandmothers’ gardens, Alice Walker might say.

I was working on this idea at a retreat and went one afternoon to a greenhouse in Pawley’s Island, where I did actually overhear the first line of the poem. In some respects, this poem feels unfinished to me, perhaps because as Le Guin did, I am always learning to see things a new way. I don’t think the poem says everything I want to say. But at a certain point, the poem is done. You have to go write another one. And I’m still not very good at growing hydrangeas, although I do have a big beautiful bunch of them dropping those little blue speckles all over my desk right now.

JASPER: What do you do with yourself when you aren’t writing, teaching, or doing research?

HAMMOND: I’m a photographer and I love to draw. My poor family—I am always taking photos of them and writing poems about them. Art is another way of seeing, and my poetry and art are deeply connected, but for me the visual arts feel more like play. When I travel, the first thing I do is find the local museums and bookstores and art supply stores.

I don’t think our world will go back to what it was, and I don’t want it to—this moment is teaching us how we can change. But whoever said change is hard was seriously not kidding.

JASPER: How has COVID-19 affected you and your ability to practice your art?

HAMMOND: Artists are struggling, as we all are. Most people I know have either lost their jobs or are working harder than they’ve ever worked. One minute things seem ordinary, and the next you realize you left your mask in the car. Someone you know is sick or dead. The anger boiling in this country, George Floyd, Breanna Taylor, and who knows who will be next. The protests that we march in, or are afraid to march in because we are at risk. Well, we are all at risk. We pass some horrifying marker, 100,000 dead in the United States, 150,000, and we’re approaching 200,000. How do we even understand these numbers? I can’t read anymore—books from before seem very much from before. The real world is as frightening as any apocalyptic novel now.

I’m lucky, I know, to be in the camp of folks who are working harder than they’ve ever worked, though some days that luck feels like hard luck—helping my students navigate the transition to online learning, working with several faculty one-on-one to help them with their classes, working on our university-wide reaccreditation. I’ve written exactly two poems since March, and that I finished anything feels like a miracle. I don’t usually write in the moment—I would love so much to be able to write and publish a poem in Rattle’s Poets Respond! Instead I keep journals and I draw. I note a thing or two each day that in a year I will come back to, will try to see again. I read as best I can and to have faith that I will come back to the writing as we settle more into this moment, the next. I don’t think our world will go back to what it was, and I don’t want it to—this moment is teaching us how we can change. But whoever said change is hard was seriously not kidding.

Sometimes you write your life, and sometimes you live it.

JASPER: Do you have any hints or recommendations for other poets on how to get through this strange period in all of our lives?

HAMMOND: I am doing several things to try to take care of myself.

A big piece of this is managing how I follow the news. The early days of the pandemic, we were all refreshing our newsfeeds constantly. That continuous exposure to changing circumstances meant constant adrenaline, constant anxiety, for me and I believe for many. I am not great at not looking at my phone first thing in the morning, but I do try. I have cut way back on my social media—this makes me a little lonely, but it gives me more time and lets me choose when I can take hearing the day’s bad news. I subscribe to a daily email summary from a small handful of trusted news outlets. I’m grateful for Heather Cox Richardson’s daily Letters from an American, but I have no idea how she writes that and teaches and sleeps. I can’t wait for the day I can read that collection and remember this time, and it will be history.

I feel a great need to do something to help, so I have chosen a few causes and significantly upped my donations. I certainly am saving a lot of gas money working from home, and it makes me feel I am making some small difference. I wish it were a bigger difference, but maybe together all our small differences will make the bigger change.

And I try not to beat myself up, for not being ok, for not getting through everything I need to do, for not having the energy some days to even text a friend. I would never talk to a friend the way I talk to myself in my head, but I have to remind myself of that pretty regularly. Of course you didn’t get through all those papers to grade today, of course you will write again.

I’m a slow writer in normal circumstances—I recommend Louise DeSalvo’s The Art of Slow Writing: Reflections on Time, Craft, and Creativity. Time is so strange in this moment—fast and slow, the markers we normally use to note the progress of our days and years gone or fundamentally changed. It’s ok to take time to sit with this grief and wonder. When you are ready to write again, write a little every day. It’s ok if it’s bad. It’s ok if you don’t finish. A little every day will take you places, when you are ready.

Sometimes you write your life, and sometimes you live it.

~~~

Elizabeth Warren Dreams of Kissing Babies

by Lisa Hammond

It is good and over, the long campaign, debates, VP

speculation. Would you say yes? Yes. I would help any way

I can. He called himself to tell me, of course. He’s a

decent man. Another disappointment, but not a

surprise. All those pinky promises and all those little girls. The

Zoom convention, a soft cornflower blue sweater,

balancing careful scripted banter with hope. Kamala is

making history. All my plans long ago pulled down from

the headquarters wall and recycled, Empowering

American Workers and Raising Wages, Strengthening

Our Democracy, My Plan to Cancel Student Loan

Debt on Day One of My Presidency. Whether or not I

smile enough. Only the election left, and in truth, there’s

some relief—they cannot blame me for what is

coming. The reporters yelling from the sidelines, will

you be a key player in the new administration? We both

want the same thing. The reporters and the crowd surge

forward, I know it is before because the mothers push

their babies towards me, no one masked, no one

distancing, no one knowing what is coming. Dream big,

the mama says, fight hard, the children reply. I can’t stay

in this crowd and I want to say it again but don’t, I am

running for president because that’s what girls do. The choices

left now. We want this country to work and we want it to work

for everyone. Smiling or strident. Either way my face

hurts.

CORONA TIMES - Clay Artist & Landscape Architect Betsy Kaemmerlen Talks About Coming South, the Combination of Work & Art, and a Simpler Life Courtesy of COVID-19

“We Exist to Revere the Great Spirit of Life and Enjoy All the Beauty of Its Expression.”

Betsy Kaemmerlen and friends

Hi Betsy and thanks for taking the time to share some info on your art and work with the Jasper Project.

Let’s start by introducing you to the folks who might not have had the pleasure of meeting you yet.

JASPER: I know you’re from Rhode Island – can you talk about your background and how you came to live in SC?

KAEMMERLEN: I grew up in New England and was lucky to spend all my summers on a small island that (back then) didn’t have a ferry for cars.  If you could get a car over there, it generally stayed there – so we all drove around stripped down 1930-50s cars and felt like Bonnie and Clyde.  No license or insurance required.  When they finally cracked down one year, they tested your lights and brakes… if your car passed, you got a big number stenciled on the side of the driver’s door (if there was one.)  

The first time I came to SC was on a road trip to Florida when I was about ten.  Though my dad got caught in a speed trap on Route 301 (this was prior to 95 being completed) we all loved stopping for breakfast and the waitress’ sweet accent when asking if we’d ‘lahk’ any honeybuns!

Fast forward to 2005 when I moved here to work at my engineering firm’s branch office.  I’d applied to several firms down here when fresh out of college, but twenty-five years later, when the firm opened an office in Columbia that was my big chance.  I loved the historic neighborhoods, small downtown, and gorgeous gardens.  I quickly learned how to take jokes about Yankees (called a ‘Carpetbagger’ when I put solar panels on my house) and the ‘War of Northern Aggression.’  Who knew that moving 500 miles south of the Mason Dixon line would be like moving to another country?  The culture shock was unexpected.  But being a plant nerd, I could learn 3 new zones worth of flowers and shrubs!  Between pottery, horticulture, Ikebana, great neighborhoods, and the arts community I’ve met wonderful people here in Columbia. 

JASPER: And tell us please about your education.

KAEMMERLEN: Studying Landscape Architecture at SUNY College of Environmental Science and Forestry, I was also able to take wonderfully obscure courses at (huge) Syracuse University such as Japanese Aesthetics and Zen Buddhism.  Our BLA program was a five-year set up – the final one spent somewhere studying the cultural response to the environment in a foreign country.  Living and immersing myself in the centuries old treasure of Kyoto, Japan for six months was a peak experience in my life. 

JASPER: I’ve always known you as a clay artist and didn’t realize that you are also a landscape architect, which sounds like a fascinating career. Is it fascinating? Landscape architecture is an artform in itself. Can you talk about the challenges and rewards of doing this kind of work?

KAEMMERLEN: My dad was an architect and he took us to his sites where my brothers and I could play in the stockpiles and run around excavations.  I’ve always loved arts and crafts, construction projects, gardens, stone walls, rivers, lakes, trees… the landscape.  Having a profession that combines all those elements is a dream – definitely ‘pay for play!’  Spatial understanding was always stronger in my mind than math by the numbers.  When I first learned about topography I started dreaming in contours!  The geometry of civil engineering and the beauty of plants and the practicality of how people use the land all came together perfectly.

Loving to draw played into this, until everything became computer driven.  Though I hesitated to dive into CAD (computer aided design) I now love how easy it is to work this way and make changes – no more mylar and eradicator fluid!  But staring at a couple of computer screens all day, necessitates an internet free zone at home.  I much rather go out and pull weeds or play with clay than do any more time on Facebook or in i-prisons!

JASPER: How do you balance your work with nature with your work as a clay artist? Does one inform the other? Which discipline takes up most of your time?

KAEMMERLEN: Clay and pottery is a natural extension of molding the earth.  It just takes a lot less time!  Coming up with an idea and creating that with a soft slab of clay is pretty immediate.  Starting a landscape architectural project, getting it designed, permitted, bid out, and finally seeing the site built and planted, usually takes one or more years!  When I worked at the City’s Art Center it usually meant a few weeks before something was made, fired, and glazed.  Now that I have to fill my own kiln up, it takes more like a few months for that process.  But that means I work more ‘in series’… making something several times with many variables is a great way to learn.  Presently I go to the office four days a week (since COVID started) and have a lovely un-interrupted three days to stay home and work in my studio and garden. 

JASPER: Do you mostly build with clay or do you sculpt or work on the wheel?

KAEMMERLEN: I started out learning to throw clay on a wheel from an amazing teacher who blew his hand up as a kid.  He lost most of his pinkie and had two fingers fused, but he could use that as a throwing tool better than anyone else I’ve known!  I stuck with the wheel for about six months, but then wanted to start working at my own pace, not being restricted to the studio’s availability.

Working first in my kitchen, rolling out slabs, making plates and simple functional items, I progressed into more elaborate forms and sculptural pieces over the years.  I’ve built three of my own studios now, but I still love making a simple plate with a good sturdy foot! 

JASPER: How long have you been working with clay and what do you enjoy most about it?

KAEMMERLEN: I started clay in 1994.  I’ve taken many workshops and organized them for several clay groups I’ve joined both here and New England.  Getting to know other studio potters and sculptors has been one of the most enjoyable aspects.  They are a different breed!

As far as a technique I absolutely love, it is carving.  I used to carve individual pieces but have changed to carving roller stamps out of porcelain. This is a very fine-grained clay with no big chunky particles to disturb the design.  After spending a couple hours getting it just right, I then fire that stamp and have that pattern to use on clay ad infinitum.  I like making ‘families’ of stamps and often utilize Asian, Celtic, and Greek motifs in the design.

JASPER: What is your signature style? Or how would a patron recognize a piece of art by you?

KAEMMERLEN: Since I carve my own stamps, those textures and patterns are unique to my pieces.  Transparent glazes, like celadon, pool in the depths of the impression and show off the surface of the clay beautifully.  I also love lots of color, so ‘brown pots’ are pretty rare in my repertoire.  Putting Fun into Functional ware is my forte.  Also, making vases that lend themselves to Ikebana or Japanese flower arranging is both challenging and rewarding. 

JASPER: Who has influenced you the most as an artist and why?

KAEMMERLEN: Gerry Williams was the founder of Studio Potter magazine.  He was a wonderful teacher, mentor, and publicist to many potters throughout the country.  For many summers I went to his “Phoenix Workshops” in New Hampshire where he would bring a world-renowned artist to teach a group of about twenty.  His generosity with his studio space, equipment, house, and fellow potters was a huge influence on my development as a clay artist.  Learning the background and inspiration of many successful artists was eye-opening.  He encouraged sharing and experimenting with a medium that is often disregarded in the fine arts world.

JASPER: How has the COVID-19 pandemic impacted you as an artist – and how have you met the challenges it has presented?

KAEMMERLEN: Quarantining gave me more undivided time to work in the studio.  Being an introvert, I’m happy working on my own, though I do miss loading kilns at the City Art Center and being a part of the community that has developed there.  I sincerely hope that this pandemic has brought more people the simple joys of their own home and garden, instead of always seeking recreation by jumping on a plane or eating at the finest restaurant.  Growing what you eat, cooking it in a beautifully decorated kitchen, and serving out of a handmade bowl is a sustainable, deeply meaningful pleasure.  It improves the land, it keeps artists creating, and improves the mental health of everyone who appreciates your actions! 

The motto I have over my studio door: “We Exist to Revere the Great Spirit of Life and Enjoy All the Beauty of Its Expression.”

JASPER: How can patrons find more of your work?

KAEMMERLEN: I have a few pieces out in the Sumter County Gallery of Art, but you can find me on Facebook.  I post albums of my latest work and if you’re interested, send me a message!

— CB

Did you enjoy reading about Betsy & seeing her work? Don’t miss another post from the Jasper Project about the Midlands area arts community & beyond by subscribing to our posts right over there to the right —->

Lindsay Radford Wiggins Uses Vulnerability to Inspire Self-Discovery in Her Tiny Gallery Show Fragments

Lindsay Radford Wiggins

Earlier this summer, Jasper transitioned its Tiny Gallery series online as an opportunity for artists to share their work during uncertain times and for members of the community to find a connection in the stories those artists tell.

This month we are featuring the spirited multimedia artist, Lindsay Radford Wiggins, with her oil painting show, Fragments.

Wiggins grew up in Montgomery, Alabama, and proclaims that art was part of her life since she was “old enough to hold a crayon”. Beyond an early passion for creating, Wiggins studied art at the Booker T. Washington Magnet Art School. In their photography program she learned a variety of techniques, including processing and developing film.

“I had a really good photography teacher, Andy Meadows, who basically gave us what was equivalent to a college photography program,” Wiggins shares, “Being in that program and school surrounded by so many artist friends really shaped me as an artist through my teenage years.”

Wiggins recalls working in all the local darkrooms in Montgomery during her high school years to make extra money. “Art was an escape for me even at an early age,” she recalls, “I always carried a sketchbook everywhere.” 

Lindsay Radford Wiggins - Birthday

Wiggins moved to Columbia, SC when she was 18 to work in the same Dermatopathology lab where her grandmother once worked and got certified as a Histotechnologist, a field she still works in today. Several years after the initial move, she attended Columbia College, where she studied painting & drawing under Stephen Nevitt and Mary Gilkerson.

“Not only was I able sharpen my skills in drawing and painting at Columbia College, but I feel it opened the door to the local art community,” Wiggins reflects, “I then became immersed with local artists, and it was amazing to be surrounded by so many amazing creative minds again.”

In was in college that Wiggins found the artists and themes that would end up being of great importance to her. “I had an art history teacher named Dr. Ute [Wachsmann-Linnan], and she really introduced me to German Expressionism, and I think that is a major influence in my paintings,” she reveals, “Women surrealists like Frida Khalo, Dorthea Tanning, and Leonora Carrington are also influencing.”

Lindsay Radford Wiggins - Aspirations

Reflecting on her work now, Wiggins shares that it is “very narrative with lots of layers”; she continues, “symbols from nature, animals, family and my personal struggles are recurring themes. I feel like every piece of art I create is like a diary entry.”

In this show, Wiggins is focused on the female perspective and healing from her own struggles. “Nevitt used to say in art class that displaying your art is like running down the road in public completely naked and I do feel that way,” she expresses, “I think all artwork in some sense is a self-portrait.” It is her hope to use her vulnerability to create work that is positive and inspires others.

Fragments features 22 pieces, all of which are a self-reflection of some sort, and often feature the artist and her dog, Ziggy. In these 4x4 oil paintings, you may find a girl enjoying tea as her hair twists in lively coils around her, reflections and ruminations of the female body in vivid color, or women who reclaim their presence with affirmations of “I am enough.”  

Lindsay Radford Wiggins - Overcoming Insecurities

Wiggins has been showing in Columbia for years and has had the privilege to experiment with a plethora of mediums and genres and collaborate with other local artists. Reflecting back onto her journey, she says the several shows she did with Anastasia Chernoff stand out in her mind.

“One of the memories I cherish is when I co-hosted a surrealism show with her several years ago, and I am so grateful to have been part of those experiences,” she recalls, “I miss showing art through different venues on First Thursdays and the inspiration you get through other artists.”

These days, with all going on in the world, it can be hard for artists to find that inspiration. Wiggins says she tries to focus on the positive. “I think the world has been given a chance to slow down in some ways and refocus & reflect on the things that are more important,” she illuminates, “I think human interaction is more meaningful when we have been isolated.”

It’s hard to know what the future holds, but Wiggins says she plans to continue exploring themes in this body of work. “I think for artists creating art is like breathing,” she intimates, “art is the physical manifestation of what is inside of us.” 

Lindsay Radford Wiggins - Be Brave

Artist or not, Wiggins believes within us all is the ability to love and better the spaces around us. “I think the only way you can really change the world is to change your own heart and through the interactions and relationships we have on a day to day basis,” she expresses, “We are all human and having struggles and need more compassion and less judgement.”

When it comes to Fragments, Wiggins wants to embody that very compassion. The artist plans to donate her portion of the proceeds from sold works to SisterCare, a local shelter that helps women & families dealing with domestic violence.

“This is what my heart felt moved to do,” she shares, “and I feel during the COVID-19 pandemic, they could use the help more than ever with so many people being homebound.” 

Wiggins’ show will be up until October 4th on the Jasper Website. You can support Wiggins’ purpose, spread compassion, find a reflection of yourself, and take home a new beautiful work of art 24/7 at the following link: https://the-jasper-project.square.site/tiny-gallery

The purpose of the Tiny Gallery Series is to allow artists an opportunity to show a selection of their smaller pieces of art offered at affordable price points attractive to beginning collectors and arts patrons with smaller budgets. If you are interested in showing at Tiny Gallery, please email Christina Xan at jasperprojectcolumbia@gmail.com

CORONA TIMES - Wade Sellers Catches Up with Multidisciplinary artist & filmmaker Chris Bickel

Chris Bickel - all photos courtesy of the artist

Chris Bickel has been a staple in the Columbia creative community for a couple of decades. From his imprint on the local and national punk scene to masterminding one of Columbia’s favorite karaoke show for years, he leaves an incredible mark on any genre he touches. Despite earning a Media Arts degree from the University of South Carolina, he never ventured into filmmaking until a few years ago when he directed the wildly popular THETA GIRL. After being named the 2020 Free Times Best Filmmaker in Columbia Jasper decided to check in with Chris and ask about the progress of his new film and see how he has adjusted to the new landscape we live in.

JASPER: Chris how have you been adjusting to the pandemic? How has the shutdown affected you personally?

BICKEL: It hasn't really affected me that much. My day job (record buyer at Papa Jazz Record Shoppe) never really stopped. Although the store was shut down for a bit, I was still in there working. We wrapped shooting on my new film (BAD GIRLS) right before the pandemic started, so I've been in post-production on that during my evenings and weekends -- so pandemic or no, I'd still be holed up at home working during this time. I'm not the most social person in the world anyhow, so aside from the general feeling that the world is ending, the pandemic has affected me very little. 

JASPER: After the run of Theta Girl ended it seems you went straight into producing your new film Bad Girls. Was producing a 2nd film so soon after Theta Girl your plan from the start?

BICKEL: After THETA GIRL was finished, I did the festival circuit with it for almost a year while trying to pin down distribution -- which ended up being something of a fiasco (par for the course in indie film). Once THETA GIRL had a legitimate release, I began work on a second film called SISTER VENGEANCE. I wrote that script with Shane Silman, casted it, and then set up a production schedule. The lead quit a few days before the first shoot day, having decided that traveling every weekend from Atlanta for two months was going to be too difficult. I tried to recast, giving myself six months to fill that lead role but I couldn't find anyone locally that I thought was a fit, so I shelved SISTER VENGEANCE and set about writing BAD GIRLS which was loosely adapted from a stage play called GIRL GANG RAMPAGE, written by Shane. What may have seemed to someone from the outside as jumping right into BAD GIRLS from THETA GIRL, actually involved -- to me -- a lot of false starts and wasted time.

JASPER: Give everyone a taste of what Bad Girls is about.

BICKEL: Here's the log line: "After robbing a strip club, three desperate teenage girls lead a misogynistic Federal Agent on a lysergic cross-country chase, scoring a duffle bag full of money, drugs, and a crew of willing kidnap victims along the way.” I see BAD GIRLS as a punk rock road movie somewhere at the intersection of FASTER PUSSYCAT, KILL KILL and DOOM GENERATION. It's an existentialist fantasy wrapped in the package of an exploitation film.

L-R Shelby Lois Guinn, Morgan Shaley Renew, Sanethia Dresch

JASPER: Theta Girl received great reviews and had great fan response. What was the biggest part of the learning curve for you in directing your first feature?

BICKEL: The hardest part of filmmaking is people wrangling. Working on such a small scale, budget-wise, you end up wearing many different hats and it's impossible to be a master of all of them at once.

JASPER: What experiences did you take with you from Theta Girl to producing Bad Girls to make it a better overall production experience?

BICKEL: The first time you do anything you make a million little mistakes. One hopes that in their second time around they can half the number of mistakes. The number one thing I've learned is that you can't plan ahead enough. The more you think through before the day of shooting, the easier it is when unforeseen problems arise. 

JASPER: How has the shutdown affected post-production and the release of Bad Girls?

BICKEL: The only thing affected really is the release schedule. I still don't know if a theatrical premiere is a wise decision, nor do I know if doing a festival run is a good idea. I may have to rethink the method in which the film is rolled out. I honestly don't even know if we'll have a country left after November. I'd like to have the movie out by December -- if, you know, there's still an America.

JASPER: Micro budget/indie film production can be intensely satisfying and a bit self-abusive in the physical toll it can take. How has your experience been finishing Bad Girls?

BICKEL: I'm not on a deadline, so I'm working at my own pace to make it the best thing it can be. Viewing it as an underground film, it's going to have warts by the very nature of its low budget and the lack of experience of everyone involved (myself included). But I think people are willing to overlook the flaws as long as they are entertained. So, my main focus during this time is doing whatever it takes to ensure that the movie is wholly entertaining and hopefully thought-provoking. All of this would be easier with money to pay other people to do some of the work -- money to not need a "day job." I consider this an obsessive hobby. So even when I'm pushed to the point of exhaustion, it's still FUN for me -- even if in a masochistic way.

JASPER: Any words of wisdom for new micro budget indie filmmakers?

BICKEL: Finishing is the most important thing. 

-WS

Corona Times - Guest Essay Curated by Ed Madden - Essential by Peyton Nielsen

Last spring, as South Carolina went into lockdown because of COVID19, I was teaching a creative writing course. Many of my students found themselves back at home, but some stayed here, working. A couple worked for Instacart. One student took over the homeschooling of her little brothers, another started helping out in his family's liquor store (alcohol, like groceries, ruled essential).

And for a few of them, the disruptions of their daily lives began to appear in their creative writing assignments, in poems, in essays. Peyton was an essential worker, wait staff at a Columbia restaurant that continued to offer curbside takeaway. This little essay captures the anxieties of those moments, the precautions we took (and are still taking), the careful attention to our environment and to those around us. With her permission, we're posting this to our "Corona Times" series -- a moment in the pandemic captured with precision.

-Ed Madden

Jasper Magazine poetry editor

Peyton Nielson is originally from the Chicago Suburbs, 21 years old, and a senior Public Health major at USC.

(photo courtesy of the author)

Essential

by Peyton Nielsen

lockdown, spring 2020

Twice a week each week, she gets a treat: to not spend every waking moment in the confines of the four walls of her townhome. Usually, waking up for work is a chore. But now she practically leaps out of the shackles of her bed and into the bathroom to put on makeup and look nice. It has been a while since she has brushed her hair. She cuts the chains off the door, skips to her car, which sits idle most of the time these days. The drive is the best part: windows down, sun hitting her left thigh, melodies bouncing around the car. It’s hard not to sing at full volume even if others look over. She sounds bad, but she feels free.

*

The chairs and stools are put up on the tables, only half of the restaurant is lit, and the bar is blocked off. Usually there are multiple coworkers setting up, cooking, cleaning the restaurant. This time, it is just her and her manager, who now works in the kitchen too, and in a pinch is the occasional dish washer. She picks up a pair of extra-large flour-dusted gloves – that’s all they have here – and wraps rubber bands on her wrists so they stay on. She sprays down every surface, prepares the to-go bags, and hangs up signs on the doors so people stay on the curbside. No one is allowed in anymore. But this is her temporary paradise from the stir-crazy she feels the other five days. This is the treat she gets, as long as everyone keeps their hands to themselves, coughs in the other direction (preferably into their elbows, but that is wishful thinking sometimes), and has prepaid online so she does not have to touch cash or a credit card.

*

The sunlight has slipped below the windowsills and into the ground, and she begins to count her tip jar out (with gloves on of course). She lays out each dollar denomination in their respective values and counts it out for herself: part of rent, light bill, water, groceries, and some money to help pay off the new shoes she bought before the shift cuts and layoffs. A decent shift – people are kinder these days. She immediately goes to wash her hands for the umpteenth time. Her hands are dry and beginning to crack from the hot water, soap, the flour from the gloves. She will remember lotion next time.

*

There isn’t any music on the drive home. She calls her mom, so her mom won’t have to call later at two in the morning in a panic wondering if her girl made it home safe. They talk about nothing really. There is nothing to talk about. The windows are up, it’s stuffy, and her work shoes are starting to make the seats smell. She won’t bring them inside when she gets home, that’s probably unsafe. The car is put back into park for another week and is Clorox-wiped before she locks it up.

*

Immediately the clothes are off and in a separate laundry bin to be safe, and she climbs into the shower. Her shins hurt from standing for twelve hours. The arches of her feet ache, and anxiety makes her chest tight, but at least she can pay her rent tomorrow. She dries off and starts over the two-week time clock to make sure no symptoms arise so that she can continue to go to work. She is young, she’ll probably be fine, right? That’s not what CNN said last night, maybe she should quit. At three in the morning, sleep finally finds her. The hum of her oil diffuser replaces the diminished white noise outside.

Award-Wining Photographer Crush Rush Shares the City We Know and Love Through a Fresh Lens

The artist - Crush Rush

Earlier this summer, Jasper transitioned its Tiny Gallery series online to make viewing art accessible to all those seeking light in recent times. Recently, we marked the halfway point of our fantastic show with local photographer, Crush Rush.

Rush, 33, is featuring his collection, Eye Spy, an assemblage of photos that depict the city we all hold dear, both in ways we recognize and those we don’t.

For Rush, while art was not part of his family growing up, he came to it in unexpected ways early in life. “I got into photography rather young as I found a love for disposable cameras,” he recalls, “On Nintendo 64 I fell in love with the game Pokémon Snap.”

However, it was after his great grandmother’s experience with dementia that Rush’s taking and making photos transformed into a passion. Since then, he has continually honed his skills. “Traditional learning styles have never kept me captivated enough,” he shares on his journey as a self-taught artist, “And I’m fortunate for the success and access I have in that regard.”

Rush started professionally pursuing photography in 2008, following the economy crash. “I was unable to find employment after losing my job at Verizon Wireless, and a buddy of mine asked me to start doing the photography of the club that he was managing,” he continues, “One thing led to another, and here I am some 12 years later – a whole established full-time photographer.”

While photography has always been part of his life, it actually is not his first love on the art spectrum. “Music has and always will have a place in my heart,” Rush reveals, “I used to produce EDM before it gained the popularity that it has nowadays, and I also have played a few instruments in my time that range from brass instruments to percussion.”

Within photography itself, digital work is his forte. “I love photography because it is an instantaneous art medium,” he ruminates, “I can move in and out of moments in time and capture them in fractions of seconds. It almost makes me feel like I have superhero powers at times.”

Candy-Colored Murray Sunset by Crush Rush

Rush practices with both photojournalism and taking and editing photos for artistic purposes. “With my artwork I hope that I can open people's eyes to the beauty of nature, our city and our planet,” he professes, “With my photojournalism, I strive to show people just how different but insanely alike we all are in our pursuits of happiness.”

In this show specifically, which he has titled Eye Spy, Rush used his artistic talents to focus on a familiar scene. “The artworks that I have chosen to feature in this show are pieces that are native to our area,” he shares, “I really wanted to display the city in a beautiful way as we haven't been able to truly appreciate and go out in it due to the Covid-19 pandemic.”

Our city is a perfect example of what often inspires the photographer. “I generally think about places and themes that everyday people know and love. I then try to capture those places and themes at their absolute best moments,” Rush states, “Sometimes I'll add a creative spin to make something that is everyday normal extraordinary. I also like to focus on small things that people see every day but may not pay much attention to.”

Of course, the spaces around us are constantly fluctuating, especially as of late. “As a black photojournalist that has been covered everything from New Black Panther Party rallies to Neo Nazi/Klan Rallies since the Charleston Massacre in 2015, this year's BLM movement is just another day at the office,” Rush reflects, “I have covered about 90% of our local BLM movement happening here in the city so that it has made its way into my work would be an understatement.”

Observing humanity and freedom has led Rush to not just document the unprecedented times we currently find ourselves in but to reflect on his own practice. “COVID-19…has caused me to shift my technique to accommodate social distance practices and to find creative ways to show off raw emotion displayed by people who have half of their faces covered,” he notes, “I have unfortunately also covered anti mask / end quarantine rallies so the mask in itself or lack there off has become a political movement that I have documented.”

Bridging the Gap - Crush Rush

Rush’s passion for the people and places around him has not gone unnoticed. He received the Creatable Award from Able SC in 2019 for his work with the organization, documenting various causes and events over the years, and recently, he was awarded Best Photographer by Free Times Best Of 2020.

Even with the uncertainty of our current times, Rush is prepping for the future. “I have been having to completely recalibrate my system to make sure that I am able to remain a full-time photographer,” he shares, “You can probably expect to see me delving deeper into the noncommercial portrait photography side of things.”

To stay in touch with Crush Rush’s work, follow him on Instagram @CrushRushSC, check out his photoblog crushinthecity.com, and, of course, on follow him on Facebook.

Crush Rush’s show will be up until Sunday, September 6th at the Jasper Website.

The purpose of the Tiny Gallery Series is to allow artists an opportunity to show a selection of their smaller pieces of art offered at affordable price points attractive to beginning collectors and arts patrons with smaller budgets. If you are interested in showing at Tiny Gallery, please email Christina Xan at jasperprojectcolumbia@gmail.com

CORONA TIMES - Wade Sellers talks with 2nd Act Alum Tamara Finkbeiner

Tamara Finkbeiner - all photos courtesy of the artist

Tamara Finkbeiner is a Columbia based filmmaker and graphic artist. She is a member of WOW Productions an urban inspirational entertainment company. Through her involvement with WOW and her own independent work she has been leaving a huge creative mark in our area for many years. She is an alum of the 2nd Act Film Project. Tamara’s films took home the 2nd Act Audience Award in the 2nd and 3rd year of the festival.

Wade Sellers

film editor, Jasper Magazine; president, Jasper Project board of directors

JASPER: Tamara, how have you and your family been coping with the pandemic shutdown?

FINKBEINER: We've actually been doing pretty well given the circumstances. We've had to make many adjustments, but overall we have become even closer as a unit and that has been a tremendous blessing during this time.

JASPER: For those who don't know about WOW, tell us about Walking on Water productions.

FINKBEINER: Walking On Water Productions (WOW) is an urban inspirational theatre company founded by Tangie Beaty and is run by Beaty (CEO) and Donna Johnson (COO). My business partner, Josetra Robinson and I also run One7evenOne Productions (O7O) and we partner with WOW to mount stage productions and are also looking to venture into television and film. Josetra and myself are part of the management crew at WOW; our emphasis is in visual production and marketing.

Finkbeiner with creative partner Josetra Robinson

JASPER: Introduce us to other members of the team.

FINKBEINER: Josetra Robinson is co-founder of O7O. She's a tremendous talent and I'm honoured we get the chance to work together on so many amazing projects.

JASPER: What project(s) have you and the team been working on during the shutdown?

FINKBEINER: Through O7O, we've been editing for various projects, which has been, again, a major blessing. We've also been writing for a project that we have coming up and that everyone will hear more about very soon. 

JASPER: What is the overall mission of WOW?

FINKBEINER: One of WOW's missions is to produce impactful productions and also cultivate talent in our local community, which aligns with our passion and purpose at O7O. It's been a beautiful partnership.

JASPER: What's next for you or Walking on Water productions/One7evenOne Productions?

FINKBEINER: Many details are still unfolding but we (O7O) will be partnering with WOW again on a really cool project and are looking forward to the team coming together to do what we love and challenge ourselves as we push this next level!

In observance of the 75th anniversary of the US use of atomic weaponry on Hiroshima and Nagasaki -- A poem by Randy Spencer

This month marks the 75th anniversary of the use of the atomic bomb and the atrocities of nuclear war. The United States dropped atomic bombs on the Japanese cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki on August 6 and 9, 1945, leading to the end of World War Two. The explosion in Hiroshima killed an estimated 80,000 people and thousands more would die as the result of exposure to radiation. Midlands poet Randy Spencer commemorates this anniversary with his poem, "Yasuhiko Shigemoto's Walk." No more Hiroshimas.

- Ed Madden

Poetry Editor, Jasper Magazine

The “Shadow” of a Hiroshima Victim, Etched into Stone Steps, Is All That Remains After 1945 Atomic Blast — Open Culture

YASUHIKO SHIGEMOTO'S WALK

                                                August 6, 1945

a curled red oak leaf

crab-walks across a flat stone

our summer will end soon

half my schoolmates and I

lunch in cool shadows beneath the bridge

an almost dry river bed

my belly exposed,

a white flash in the southern sky

blisters its soft skin

sudden, violent heat

as if something touches me

with hot tongs

in the bright light

inerasable shadows

where someone stood

on a wall, how could

empty space become shadows

light become dark

shadows that cannot

move with the changing sun,

trees leveled, no leaves

cicadas have hushed,

a silence waiting

the season to reverse

a huge jellyfish

a mushroom high in the sky

dust clouds

become a column

a pillar of fire rising

in the dark air

injured begin

to appear, walking along

the narrow river

from their outstretched arms

flesh hangs, sheets of skin drape

from backs, abdomens

if their arms drop

pain is overwhelming

screams shatter the calm

half of my classmates

were working in the city center.

are they dead? One calls

to me from the river

and I fall into the line

marching away

pink chrysanthemum

blossoms open their dark hearts

black rain is falling

Based on "My A-Bomb experience in Hiroshima," a speech given by Hiroshima survivor Yasuhiko Shigemoto on July 29, 1995 at the Plenary Session of "No More Hiroshimas Conference" at London University commemorating the 50th anniversary of the end of W.W. II.

                                                            H.R. Spencer

                                                            hrspencer@gmail.com

Corona Times - Photographer John Allen

Today’s Corona Times features Columbia-based photographer John Allen who has used photography for therapy, art, and as a business endeavor.

Welcome John!

JASPER: Can you tell us about your background, John? Where did you grow up and go to school and what part of the city do you live in now and how long have you been there? 

JOHN ALLEN: I have lived in Columbia my whole life, but my parents met in the military and I have family all over. Growing up, I went to Hammond School and then later attended Dreher High School. After that, I went to Midlands Technical College with ideas of being a history teacher, but I ended up in family business. Since then, I’ve been working at the university. I’ve been living on the Western Front (West Columbia) for about 17 years now.

 JASPER:  How did you get into photography -- when and where? Did you train or are you self-taught?

JOHN ALLEN: When I was teenager, I was hit by a car while biking and had to learn how to walk again. It was a near death experience that left quite an impact on me over the years (no pun intended). I shot a lot of photography from travels in the UK and Ireland using old SLR cameras and then stopped for a long time.  About ten years ago, I started working in a design department and learned a bunch of new tricks.

Prior to that, a dear friend of mine died and I spent a few years doing things I wouldn’t normally do; making photos again, art, being a little more adventurous, and social. Someone told me it was called exposure therapy. There’s a lot of people who think art therapy is nonsense, but I can tell you it helps tremendously – I am living proof.  It was really life changing for me.

JASPER: Who are your inspirations?

JOHN ALLEN:  Trey Ratcliff is probably the most prominent photographer I’ve followed. He’s known for HDR landscapes and the like. He was based in Austin, Texas and then eventually moved to New Zealand. He’s amazing. I follow a bunch of other photographers on the Viewbug photo community and a few around town, but that’s about it. I don’t really compare or compete with anyone, I just kind of like doing my own thing. Most of the time I take my camera with me while hiking and biking. It’s more of an activity for me and not just taking photos.

 JASPER: What type of photography do you mostly practice? What challenges you most?

JOHN ALLEN: Well, I have my work-work and then there’s my solo stuff I suppose. Most of the work I do on my own is geared toward a wide variety of photo art, landscapes, portraits, and local events.  I have a home studio and sometimes work on photo projects there as well but not as often. I also enjoy doing digital photo restoration.

The most challenging photography for me is probably photo restoration and night photography. Night photography requires solid knowledge of manual controls and restoration requires a lot of time and effort. When you master manual, in whatever weather, you are going to get a lot of great shots.

JASPER: Can you tell us about one of your favorite gigs and why you enjoyed it?

JOHN ALLEN: Not any single one in particular, but perhaps maybe a culmination of things. I enjoyed doing community events here such as the Runaway Runway fashion shows. The Colajazz City of Stars show was also quite fun especially when you know a lot of the participants already.  That was one was a fundraiser to raise money for children’s music education. Travel stuff. I’ve shot some landscapes in Canada and did a wedding there as well. I’ve also enjoyed collaborating with local artist friends.

I suppose a lot of people know me from sharing photos with Bohumila Augustinova and Diane Hare at the Anastasia & Friends art gallery on First Thursdays the past few years or so. There are many great memories captured from those days that might not otherwise have been recorded.   

I have participated in some of those photo communities like Viewbug and was interviewed a few times.  We used to spend weekends “photo hunting” around to submit to contests. It was fun watching how far our work would go in these online photo competitions.  It was a lot of sheer boyish-enthusiasm for the sake of making photos. Sometimes, friends and I would go on adventures and make art out of just pure enjoyment. I’ve also had a few of my photos accepted into the Artfields competition as well.

Aside from that, I’d say my other favorite “gig” was documenting the Take the Flag Down Rally back in 2015 as an activist. I’ll always remember that day and when the flag came down.

JASPER: What do you do when you aren't behind the camera?

JOHN ALLEN: I really like cooking and I’ve hosted some dinner clubs around town. I’m very much an outdoors person. I like hiking, mountain biking with friends, and occasionally camping and good music. A lot of people don’t know this, but I also do graphic design and tech/web stuff as well as some video work.

Model Alexis Doktor

Subjects: Lee Ann Kornegay, Ann Smith Hankins, Diane Hare, John Allen (photog) Billy Guess, Bohumila Augustinova, Lauren Melton, Paul Kaufmann

all photos courtesy of the artist

subject Tom Hall

Corona Times -- Cassie Premo Steele talks about poetry, pandemic, and love

“One of the things I’ve learned from all this is that there’s very little under our control as humans. We must work with each other and with the earth in harmonious, healing, and honestly, hard ways if we are to survive.”

—Cassie Premo Steele

Cassie Premo Steele - all photos courtesy of the artist

During these Corona Times the Jasper Project strives to continue to support and promote communication among artists and arts lovers. In this interview, Columbia-based poet Cassie Premo Steele shares what both her personal and professional life have been like since the onset of quarantine and we come to realize that there is little separating the personal from the professional these days, and what a gift that might actually be.

Here’s Cassie.

Thanks for sharing with us, Cassie. Let’s start with some basic info for the few people who haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you yet.

JASPER: Tell us about your background, please – where did you grow up, go to school, and how did you come to live in the SC Midlands today? You live in Forest Acres, right?

STEELE: Thanks so much for inviting me. I was born in Detroit, where my grandfather, an immigrant from Czechoslavakia, was Henry Ford’s secretary, and my grandmother, the oldest daughter of Irish immigrants, helped take care of me while my mom was in college when I was a baby. I grew up in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and Winona, Minnesota, before moving to Reston, Virginia, a progressive, planned community outside Washington, D.C., when I was 12. I went to high school at Immaculata on Tenley Circle, which was an all-female Catholic school run by the Sisters of Providence, an experience that is still very important to me today. I settled in Columbia after finishing my Ph.D. at Emory in 1996. I was married to a professor at USC and we raised two girls together, and I have lived with my wife in Forest Acres for six years now.

JASPER: How long were you in academics and what made you leave the academy to write full time?

STEELE: I taught at the undergraduate and graduate levels from 1991 until 2008 – in English, Comparative Literature, and Women’s and Gender Studies Programs at several institutions. I love teaching and I still teach but in a different capacity now, working with women academics and educators from around the world through my coaching business.

As an adjunct for that many years, I had an insider’s view to the inequalities of power and the ways academe reinforces those, especially for women and people of color. I use this to help women academics navigate those treacherous waters and still do the writing and teaching that they care about.

JASPER: You have published quite a few books – can you tell us about them – a chronological listing of your publications would be fabulous.

STEELE: The ReSisters. A #1 bestselling LGBT YA novel about an indigenous teen who decides to try to kill the president after her mother is taken to a detention center, with art by Amy Alley. All Things That Matter Press, 2018.

Tongues in Trees: Poetry 1994-2017. Collected poems published since 1994, plus new poems with #resist and #metoo themes. Unbound Content, 2017.

Beautiful Waters. Poetry about lesbianism, love, and marriage. Finishing Line Press, 2017.

Earth Joy Writing: Finding Balance through Journaling and Nature. Experiential practices, ecofeminist reflections, and writing prompts. Ashland Creek Publishing, 2015.

Wednesday. Poems co-created on Facebook each Wednesday since 2010 with over 300 Facebook friends from around the world. Unbound Content, 2013.

The Pomegranate Papers. Twenty years of poetry about marriage, mothering, and creativity. Unbound Content, 2012.

This is how honey runs. Poetry based on work with clients using writing as a way of healing, finding balance, and empowering oneself creatively. Unbound Content, 2010.

Shamrock and Lotus. Novel set in Ireland, India, and the United States, about the way mothers and daughters can heal from histories of colonization and globalization through renewed connections to each other and the land. All Things That Matter Press, 2010.

Easyhard: Reflections on the Practice of Creativity. Thirteen lessons on overcoming doubt and fear and living a creative life. WordClay, 2009.

My Peace: A Year of Yoga at Amsa Studios. Lyrical essays on the connections between yoga practice and achieving healing and peace in life. WordClay, 2008.

Ruin. Poems about loss and recovery based on work using writing as a way of healing, which Marjory Wentworth, the Poet Laureate of South Carolina, called “A beautiful book: courageous, spiritual, and timeless.” New Women’s Voices Series by Finishing Line Press, 2004.

We Heal From Memory: Sexton, Lorde, Anzaldúa and the Poetry of Witness. A scholarly study of how the writing of Anne Sexton, Audre Lorde, and Gloria Anzaldúa bears witness to and provides visions of healing from multicultural American traumatic histories, both individual and collective. Palgrave, 2000.

Moon Days: Creative Writings about Menstruation. An edited collection of creative writings and art about menstruation. Personal narratives, short stories, and poetry selections that move from reflections on first experiences to visions of spiritual celebration and reclamation. Summerhouse Press, 1999.  Distributed by Ash Tree Publishing.

JASPER: This is the place where we make you crazy by asking you to name your top one or two favorites of your books and tell us why you are most proud of them.

STEELE: It would perhaps surprise you to know that I think We Heal from Memory is my most important book. I trace the legacies of our national collective traumas in that book – colonization, slavery, and sexual violence against women and girls – and walk readers through how poetry can be a way of witnessing to and healing from these legacies. I think, even though it was published 20 years ago, that many people are just now able to begin hearing what that book had to say.

JASPER: From social media it looks like you and your wife, Susanne Kappler, have really gone back to the land. Did this start before COVID-19 or as a reaction to the pandemic? Can you tell us about your little Eden and how you’ve spent your non-writing time since March?

STEELE: Oh, my goodness, this is one of the things that brings me the most joy in life! We had chickens and a garden before the pandemic but we’ve basically doubled down on providing for ourselves since March. We don’t have a lot of land and we live in a very modest neighborhood, but we make the most of what we have with a vegetable garden in the front yard (our long-term vision is that we can grow enough that this can be a place where neighbors can harvest what they need), and three chickens in the back yard who give us fresh eggs, and the cutest dog in the world who sleeps next to me while I meditate and write and work every day.

I won’t say that being in quarantine has been easy, but it has been filled with joy knowing that we are cooking food from scratch and brewing beer using ingredients we harvested in our own yard and being grateful for what is here, right now, because we are alive and working -- and working in a way that upholds our vision of sustainability and gratitude for the abundance of the earth.

JASPER: What have you missed about the World Out There during our sheltering-in period?

STEELE: I used to love to go out to dinner! It was my go-to treat when I’d had a hard day or something was stressful or I just needed a date night with my wife. You know what? I didn’t really need it after all. We have found that when we’re both working from home and I can spend time cooking in the morning and she can brew on the weekends, then our dinners on the back porch are as fun as anything served to us somewhere else.

JASPER: Is there anything you have come to love tremendously during this time?

STEELE: I have come to love South Carolina in a new way. Every Friday morning, I take a drive with my dog to a state park or heritage preserve and we walk, mostly without seeing any other humans, up and down hills and next to rivers and through swamps and over creeks and sometimes off trail. The land here remembers so much. It’s beautiful. It has stories to tell.

Premo Steele with wife Suzanne Kappler

JASPER: Now, professionally, can you talk about how the pandemic has affected your work life? Have you been more or less productive? Are there any new projects you can tell us about?

STEELE: Well, honestly, I don’t like the word productive. We are not products. Art is not a product. I would say my writing methods are the same, but the intensity and depth of them is deeper.

I know I just said, “the depth is deeper,” and that bothered me, so I looked up alternate words for “deeper” and found these: bottomless, unfathomable, mysterious, serious, pressing, graver. I think that about sums up the multifarious ways this pandemic has affected my writing—and I’ve been writing both poetry and memoir this year.

And of course, I keep a journal and write by hand every day. I was recently looking through one of my journals from a couple months ago and I found an entry where I was heartbroken that the US had suffered 7000 deaths from Covid.

“Three times as many as 9/11!” I wrote. “And it’s as if no one cares or can really deal with it.”

Now we’ve passed 160,000 deaths. That’s what I mean by graver.

JASPER: What’s next for you as an author?

STEELE: Who knows, you know? One of the things I’ve learned from all this is that there’s very little under our control as humans. We must work with each other and with the earth in harmonious, healing, and honestly, hard ways if we are to survive.

I don’t just mean survive Covid. I mean life on earth, life in this nation, especially for people who are not white, Cis, hetero, males, is very, very hard, and we must be strong enough to find new ways to survive together or not at all.

I hope my writing helps people do that in some small way.

JASPER: Where can our readers find more of your work and where can they purchase copies of your books?

STEELE: All of my books are available online, and people can visit www.cassiepremosteele.com if they want to read excerpts. I also have a series of audio coaching lessons called Joywork that I made available for free on Insight Timer when the pandemic started. [The link for that is http://insig.ht/cassiepremosteele ]

JASPER: Is there anything we didn’t ask you that you’d like to share with our readers? Any advice or wisdom to pass along?

STEELE: Life is very beautiful, and very, very short. Who do you want to love? How to you want to live? What work do you want to do? What legacy do you want to leave? What brings you joy? Go do it. Now.

JASPER: Could we possibly prevail upon you to share a piece or two of your recent work with us?

STEELE: Sure! Here are two recent poems.

Butterflies on the Floor

I saw butterflies once on the floor,

swampy Sunday morning forest, startled

them as they were eating down below

and something dead was sweet

to them, they piled on the wet

carcass like children playing

with a cadaver as children

do when they are starved for

life and their hunger goes deeper

than the body into a kind of

morbidity and pornography

and I felt ashamed for even

seeing this as if it were my

guilt I carried inside me most

moments that had spilled

outside me and I wanted to turn

away or even pretend I had

not seen it but I couldn’t because

the woman I love was with me and

I heard her gasp, “How beautiful.”

What I Love About Lesbian

is the island of love in it, the Sappho and

fragments on papyrus, the skin of words

and the she. Moonlight, goddesses, spring

flowers, women’s bodies. The be in the middle

syllable. I will be. You will be. She will be.

They will be. Morphing and transforming

like menses and moon cycles and tides into

I be, you be, she be, they be, we be.

The we of it. The smallness that can only

be seen when you get skin to skin, eyelashes

fluttering, and you notice her lips get bigger

and darker as you come in for a kiss. The les

of the we. The let’s. The less patriarchy, less

male gaze, less misogyny, less gynophobia,

less frat boy drunken haze. The lez, and les,

with a French pronunciation, les girls,

les femmes, les sorcières, les poètes

les philosophes, les mères, les soeurs.

The lay of it, like eggs, like rugs, like soft

round things that lay themselves down

close to the ground, like thighs. Hers

and mine. And the final syllable, an—

as in an opening, an affection, an emotion,

an ideal, an uncovering. The word âne

in French also means donkey, as in ass,

as in what we show to those who disrespect

us as we walk away, and what we watch as

she sidles up to the bar or home base or the

podium or the microphone or the courtroom

or the boardroom or the surgery floor,

taking charge, giving orders calling shots,

making plans, changing laws, changing

lives, saving bodies and so much more.

Lesbian is woman and full and curve and

wave and the too muchness of moon

and earth and ocean pulling on each other

with love and gravity, and no wonder

it came from an island because we are

indeed separate and green and lush and

fertile with our sweet scent of possibility.

Sheltered - Jasper's newest project brings 37 artists together to respond to COVID-19

“Has it ever been more clear we must cease what we are doing?

And we must try to do the thing as natural as resting wings to heal a broken bone, pandemic, torn spirit.”

from Unstable Air

by Tim Conroy

Cover art by Jen Ray

Early during the international pandemic, Brian Harmon and Cindi Boiter, art director and editor-in-chief of Jasper Magazine respectively, both sensed that SC artists would have something to say about the novel Coronavirus that was taking over the lives of everyone they knew, and the two decided to do something about it.

Having curated a number of projects commemorating important occasions in the culture of our community before, Boiter reached out to a selection of 35 visual and literary artists inviting them to respond in whatever fashion they felt appropriate. Upon receiving the art, Harmon went to work designing the book that would contain the art. The finished product is called Sheltered.

The Jasper Project is delighted to share that this 92-page, perfect bound, premium color book is now available for purchase. While a proper book launch will follow once we can all safely gather together again, we hope you will go ahead and order your copy of Sheltered now to support the Jasper Project and its mission of providing collaborative arts engineering and community-wide arts communication.

The Jasper Project is indebted to the artists listed below who shared their words, sensations, and talents as we all try to make sense of the strange landscape time has given us to explore.

In order to ensure the health and safety of the reader, Sheltered is available from both Amazon and BandN where it can be delivered directly to your door.

Thank you for supporting your local arts community via The Jasper Project!

Corona Times - Sharing Randy Spencer's Fall Lines-Winning Short Fiction, New Poetry, and Interview with Jasper

Author & Retired physician Randy Spencer

Earlier this summer, Jasper announced the accepted contributors to this year’s Fall Lines - a literary convergence, now in its 7th year, but opted to hold the release of the book until our community of writers can safely gather together for a reading and celebration. But we won’t make you wait any longer to read the winning entries of the Saluda River Prize for Poetry and the Broad River Prize for Prose.

In this edition of Jasper’s Corona Times Blog Series, please meet Randy Spencer, winner of the Broad River Prize for Prose. You can learn a bit about Spencer, and check out both his winning short fiction as well as a new pandemic-related poem debuting on the Jasper Project website below.

Days by Days

                                                H.R. Spencer

                                                8.5.20

 

Flying is easy. It's hovering that's hard.

Watch the hummingbird

how effortlessly he flies

from plant to plant

and how much more difficult

to remain stationary in the air

wings beating three thousand

times a minute

or the osprey circling

and struggling to balance himself

keep an eye on his target

until in a blink

he plunges into the water

as if he were a sharp stone

pulled down only by gravity.

 

We are hovering now

this last half year or so

marshalling all our energies

only to stand in place

unable to flit gracefully plant to plant

or dive forward like the osprey

unable even

to make the days count

caught in this miasma

this ancient warp of "bad air"

this terminal inertia 

our frantic wingbeats

our desperation

our grim paralytic fear. 

 

Today's agenda:

open my eyes, think hard

is this Wednesday or Thursday

or maybe did I skip Tuesday altogether

have I slipped unannounced

from July into August without noticing

or have I inadvertently

announced that August is about arrive

our days by days gather us in

relieved only by a late-day shower.

~~~

Thank you, Randy, for agreeing to share your work and a bit about yourself with Jasper. You have a fascinating background so let’s start with that.

JASPER: For folks who haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you yet, I can share that you are a retired physician, right? But can you please elaborate on this – how long did you practice and what was your specialty? And, while we’re at it, where are you from – did you grow up in SC or did something bring you here?

SPENCER: I was born and grew up along the James River in Virginia and went to college 20 miles from home at William and Mary. I came to South Carolina in 1972 to do a 2-year fellowship in Child Psychiatry and have remained here since that time. I retired several years ago, but for 45 years I practiced primarily in a number of Community Mental Health Centers here, but also as a consultant for the Department of Social Services and, back in the eighties, for the juvenile justice agency. I also helped develop the S.C. Continuum of Care for Emotionally Disturbed Children.

JASPER: And now you live on Lake Murray, right? How long have you been there?

SPENCER: We've been living on a quiet cove on Lake Murray since 1986.

JASPER: When did writing become a part of your life?

SPENCER: This question is easy. When I was a junior and senior in high school I was one of the editors of the school magazine and things took off from there, and I studied playwriting and short story writing in college. In medical school, maybe for obvious reasons, creative writing took a back seat. I went back to college at U.S.C., at first just a few classes under James Dickey and later to enter the M.F.A. program in Poetry.

JASPER: Who have been your influences as a writer?

SPENCER: People always ask whose work influenced you the most, and the truth is that influences from other poets constantly changed over different periods in my life. I can look back now at who I was most influenced early, Robert Lowell, and wonder "why." But Theodore Roethke has been an early favorite who has stuck with me. Early on, I studied with Jim Dickey, a remarkable class out of which came a number of remarkable published poets and which really stimulated me to write. Right now, today, my favorite poet is David St. John. If you read a lot of my poems, most of which are unpublished, you'll see a number of poems in tribute to or elegies for poets or visual artists I felt a kinship toward.

JASPER: We know your work has appeared in several Jasper and Muddy Ford Press publications A Sense of the Midlands and Limelight (MFP) as well as in a number of additional anthologies such as The Art of Medicine as Metaphor and the South Carolina Collection and journals, Borderlands and Yemassee. Can you tell us about The Failure of Magic and What the Body Knows?

SPENCER: Like many poets starting out (and later, too) I would go to workshops to study under already successful writers and The Failure of Magic came out of a writers conference at Winthrop and they published it. What the Body Knows was published out of the Poetry Initiative at the University of South Carolina. Both were smaller chapbooks. Revised versions of a few of the poems in the second chapbook are in my full-length The Color After Green. Getting to discuss that book on SCETV's By the River has been the highlight of the year.

JASPER: In 2019, Jasper had the honor of writing about your publication, The Color After Green in our magazine. How long did you work on this piece of writing and what was the origin of these poems?

Spencer: The Color After Green was a themed book and all of the poems were contemporary nature poems, or what is called "ecopoetry," or poems about the environment in some fashion or another. To put together an entire volume of poems with a similar focus meant using some older poems written as long as twenty years ago along with some which were very recent at the time the manuscript was submitted, plus all the time in between. There are a lot of poems with coastal settings, sometimes in Virginia where I grew up and others in South Carolina, where I've lived since 1972. There's a poem about Hurricane Hugo, for example, which was first written probably 10 years after the storm. There are other poems reflecting the frightening changes in our environment as related to various species, from barnacles to monarch butterflies to horseshoe crabs and birds.

JASPER: You’ve also created the stage work, Becoming Robert Frost. Can we hear more about this piece?

SPENCER: It started as just a few short poems, then grew into a three-act verse drama, and now has been submitted as a hybrid verse-prose novel. It meant a lot to see several staged reading of the work as a play, and I got to read almost half of it at Piccolo Spoleto paired with another to read the dialogue. It has been worked and reworked over years and I like the way it reads now, but I've also broken various characters out as short stories, so we'll see where it goes. The play/ poetry/ novel/ short story is the imagined last day in Robert Frost's life in the hospital in Boston and the fictional conversations he carries on in dreams with deceased family members and the two characters from his poem, "Home Burial." I studied playwriting again at U.S.C. and playwriting has had a tremendous influence on the germination of my poetry. Writing for the stage forces you to write in the multiple voices of different characters, and in my book I write poems in the voices of Thomas Jefferson, John James Audubon, Georgia O'keeffe, and in one poem, a fable, have animals conversing with one another. You so often hear about "finding your own voice" as a poet, but it has always seemed more challenging and "fun" to me to deliberately steer in the other direction.

JASPER: Congratulations on winning the Broad River Prize for Prose in this year’s Fall Lines literary journal. Given that we’re sitting on the release of the journal until we can gather all the writers to celebrate together, we’re stepping out of the box and publishing your winning story, Ghost Ship, below. Set that story up for us, please. Where did it come from and what meaning does it carry for you?

SPENCER: "Ghost Ship" is part of a continuing project to bring to life a fictional group of characters living on an unnamed island in the Chesapeake Bay, not too different, I suppose, from Tangier or Smith Islands. These few remaining inhabited islands are threatened with annihilation both simply from chronic erosion, but also by sudden, catastrophic storms. A story from that same cast of characters was in Fall Lines 2019. I grew up close to the Chesapeake Bay and have visited Tangier Island. I would stress, though, that the characters are totally fictional. Winning the Broad River Prize is a great honor.

JASPER: We also opened this post up with a new poem from you, highly pertinent to where so many of us find ourselves today. Can you talk a bit about the origins of this piece, too, please?

SPENCER: "Days by Days," I hope, would resonate with all our frustrations with the tedium of isolation and lack of social contact, trying to stay healthy and keep others healthy. It certainly reflects my own feelings toward a life that seems to simply hover in one place and yet use up or waste tremendous energy. At the end of the day you feel physically and emotionally exhausted, but haven't done anything.

JASPER: So, as a physician and an author, what’s your advice for the rest of us on how we can get through this pandemic and the political turmoil that we find ourselves in?

SPENCER: I would say "Do as I say and not as I do," that is, don't watch the news obsessively. Instead immerse yourself in a hobby or something creative. Read, although I know if I said to "read poetry," that would truly fall mostly on deaf ears. I'd say, "Don't follow all the conspiracy theorists to convince you of the real truth." and "Take the vaccine when it's available. No one in going to inject  you with alien proteins that take over your brain." We can get through this, however painfully.

~~~

GHOST SHIP

Randy Spencer

            "It was a dark and stormy night. A pissy dark and stormy night."

            Sarah didn't like it when I said that--making jokes at a time like that. But she's young. Hess understood. Sometimes you make bad jokes to hide when you're scared. Hess and I grew up together--had been through it before. A hurricane riding up the Bay and flooding the island like this. Anna didn't grow up here, but she got the joke--the need to laugh when things seem the most desperate.

            But it's funny how the mind works times like that--

            What I was thinking about--at that time--back in the church--the four of us huddled together, feet soaked, water sloshing over the cushions in the pews, rising  almost up to the pulpit--the wind tearin' at church windows--shutters slamming and still four hours until the peak tide. Not knowing anything--feeling helpless. Totally helpless.

            And, God, through it all I couldn't stop thinking about how it was when we were children, at least when Hess and I were. And thinking of Ollie and Ted, and Roland, too.

            And we were there earlier last night, and only a few hours later, wading--swimming--out of the church, and climbin' up onto Roland's empty old break-away boat, a Godsend, a miracle floating up out of nowhere--a ghost ship--then huddled aboard her when it seemed like the church would have collapsed around us. The last chance we had.

            Hess said she thought this one was worse than the others. I was thinking, too, all things considered, this might be a pretty shitty rescue vehicle. Terrified--that piece of rust  might tear loose again, float off--sink--capsize--and you knew we were fuckin' screwed any whichaway.

            And so I just sat there telling the others how forty years ago--Christ--our childhood I'm telling them about, and they could care less--we could have all been drowned by morning. I can say that now. It was Anna's idea that we keep talking. Tell stories, anything--it was a low bar--just try to stay awake.

            We were in so much shit--but I only wanted  to talk about re-living being a child..

            You know what I kept remembering--this vivid image coming to me back in the church. Us being invited into Roland's bedroom one night--in this total darkness--where he kept that big aquarium. I asked Hess if she remembered?

            She did. "I remember--full of creatures he brought home."

            And that night he swished his hand into the water and the whole room lit up when he brushed against comb jellies he had collected. Tonight when I looked down in the aisle at the church--in the total darkness--and I ran my hand under the water and jellies would light up-- LIGHT  UP--fuckin' light up in the total darkness in the sanctuary, and I panicked--I don't think the others realized it. I didn't scream out loud, but I panicked just the same--like I was trapped in this giant aquarium.

            Then Ollie's drownin' came back over me. I panicked inside--inside, my breath cut off, my heart racin,' where I felt darkest--and I could feel Ollie grabbin' at my ankles under the water --I could look down and see his face all crowned over with seagrass--his hands reaching out from  it --tryin' to pull me under. I never felt anything like that since he died--and I'm thinkin'--he's here--he's right here--in this water--this is where he drowned--

            I knew he wasn't there--far from it--but I  couldn't stop thinking he was.

            That's why I tried to think about how it was when we were children, the three of us--Hess and me and Roland, had such good times--how kind the water seemed then--before all the shit that came after--and tonight just topped it all off--and I think about it,

            So I just told these happy stories, and blocked everything else out.

But it was Anna trying to figure out how we could survive. She left us, wading--half-swimming--in water up past her waist and headed toward the front door.

When she pulled it open, the water surged in and she yelled at us there was a large boat of some sort out there. All dark, but big as life. And when lightning struck again, she hollered it was Roland's old abandoned supply boat, all forty foot of her. It was so dark and she couldn't see anybody onboard. It seemed to be stuck on the bottom, shaking, but not really rocking up and down in the waves. And the waves are coming pretty hard, pinching through the church door and knocking her off her feet.

You don't know prayer honestly--real, heartfelt prayer--until you're in a spot like that, and the wind is howling around the church and through the open door and we're breathing nothing but salt spray, and Anna screamed at us to work our way along the wall to stay out of the swells and come toward her.

Anna keeping us in her direction, her voice yelling louder than the wind and I hear her say the boat is only about fifteen feet away, and between us and the worst of the storm and there's debris piled up where we can maybe crawl on top of it, climb on the platform at the stern. She's calm like there's nothing to it and we just need to trust what she's telling us. The water wasn't cold. Not warm exactly, but warm enough. I'm having to grab the end of each pew and inch myself along. And halfway along the wall I touch the bronze plaque. The one that honors all the crabbers lost in storms and accidents, and I stop for a moment and run my fingers across the raised letters and the last name is Ollie's and I start to cry, didn't  want to leave. Then I hear Anna speaking, closer now.

            You could see the lines hanging limply from the starboard side, like she had been tied up and torn free afterwards by the wind. We climbed on,  bunched there, the four of us--all women-- inside on the main cabin. It was still dry and the large boat--steel-hulled--a former ocean-going tug  refitted to carry passengers and ferry supplies. It was stuck on what should have been the West Ridge, opposite the church and seemed to be impervious to the storm.

            The wind whistled around the pilot house. Made a banshee-like sound like nothing I had ever heard. We were soaked and hungry, but just crouched there listening to the storm, knowing in our hearts the wind was going to split her top open and the rain to pour inside. But everything held together and we just waited. Hess had a watch, said it was 1:30 and we had at least three and a half hours before we could see outside. Sarah made her peace with God and was asleep off and on. I tried not to, but I think I dozed off from exhaustion, five, ten minutes at the most. I never saw Hess close her eyes.  Like she was our nurse, on duty to the end.

            The water was still rising. If we had stayed in the church we would not have any way out.  We would have all drowned.

            There were loud, creaking, hollow sounds that were are terrifying. Then a lurch. Then we pitched wildly and heeled over toward one side. Then broke free. You could actually hear timbers underneath us cracking and releasing us, the whole sequence over in less than a minute.  We  thought for a moment the boat might  tip over. I knew the Margaret Ann to draw about six feet of water, and we were floating again. She seemed to regain her balance, rocking back and  forth like an unsteady drunk, but not falling too far. And we were moving. The winds, the high-running surf breaking over the island, carried us away from the island, a rudderless meandering, a sickening motion that could end up to no good. We were crying, momentary relief and fear bound into one emotion..

            That night on the boat I didn't really sleep. Crumpled there, almost getting too drowsy where I couldn't control it, but never giving in. We talked a lot. When there was a lull we told stories.

            I talked about soft crabbing, just Roland and I. I was probably eight or nine and he was two years younger. We would push a dip net through the eelgrass, dropping soft crabs into the floating crab box he had hammered together. Those were times when the island was easily a hundred, maybe two hundred yards wider all the way around than it is now. There were shallow shoals outside the spartina where the eelgrass was so thick you had to struggle your way through it. I can step out my back door now and walk fifty yards and on a king tide be up to my knees in water.

            Back then we used to sell the soft crabs to the wives of hard potters, and they loved getting them like that, still fresh and kicking. "I still remember your mother, Hess," I told her, "You don't know this. I was ten, and I had never cleaned one of those crabs and she told me she was too busy and she wanted me to clean them for her and she would pay me extra, so I did what I had seen my own mother do when they had been in the cooler, only these crabs were alert and feisty and when I took the kitchen shears and tried to cut their faces off they raised a ruckus and I can still remember that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I never sold, offered to sell, your mother another crab. That's the truth."

            Then there would be a sudden jolt and we'd all pitch forward and sprawl out on the deck and stop, then suddenly started moving again. Then we struck hard against the bottom. Stopped for a bit, then the whole thing all over. No one knew what was going to happen. Whether the hull would rip open. Whether we'd sink or even capsize if we really got blown out over deep water. It was 3:30 in the morning when we really seemed to break free. Pitch dark. And the real fear, the dread, even hopelessness took over. We were drifting west, but none of us knew how far it would be to the other side.

            When it started to get brighter out I stood up. The wind had stopped. The water was calm. We thought we had blown to the west side of the Bay, but had hardly drifted anywhere. Maybe a few hundred yards from where we started. 

            I could look east when the sun broke between clouds and I could really know why we had to leave the church. It had caved in. You could see a section of wall with one stained glass window light up in the early sun. Everything was gone. I could see it was gone, the whole island just wiped away. A few slight smears of sand creasing the surface, water lapping at jumbles of  marsh grass. Houses simply gone. Debris everywhere, as far as I could see. Boats sunk. Crab shanties marked by a few stark poles supporting a broken cross joist or two. A few nets draped over the surface.

            When I glanced over the side, a crab, a large jimmie, swam next to us--that peculiar sideways crab swim, the one where you think it can't look ahead, can't see where it's going.

~~~

by Cindi Boiter

Cindi Boiter is the editor of Jasper Magazine and ED of the The Jasper Project.

To support the work of Jasper, including articles like the one above,

please consider becoming a member of the Jasper Guild at www.JasperProject.org

Corona Times - Wade Sellers Talks with Fellow Filmmaker & 2nd Act Alum, Taiyen Stevenson

Taiyen Stevenson is an independent filmmaker and actor living in Columbia. He is a recent 2nd Act Film Project alum and is currently producing a new film project titled “Justice”. The Jasper Project caught up with Taiyen to find out about producing a new project in the midst of a pandemic

JASPER: Tell me about your filmmaking history?

STEVENSON: I have been involved both in front of and behind the camera for almost 11 years. Acting has and will always be my first passion but I really love filmmaking even more because you can tell your own stories in a way you want. During those years, I wrote and produced four short films (Images, Thanks for Everything, Follow the Leader, and The Street Lights Are On). I always want to create strong and significant movies that everyone should see. 

JASPER: Tell us about your new film project. What is Justice about?

STEVENSON: J.U.S.T.I.C.E. is about a young African American man with a bright future who gets caught up with the world’s chaos of nationalism. It's in the present day. We are talking about things that are happening now in the 21st century.   

JASPER: Why did you want to tackle these issues with a film?

STEVENSON: Racism in America has always been a disturbing topic since day one. Now with visual camera equipment, society is able to see the cycle that has not ended and to start standing together for the struggle. The challenge is society sees racism as a hoax meaning that it doesn't exist. However, through news visuals such as phones, cameras, and other recording devices, we are able to take these truths to establish corruption within our human society.

JASPER: Tell us about your production process. What stage of production are you in now?

STEVENSON: Our production process was based on a lot of media that we were seeing of the senseless killing of African Americans. We also sat in a lot of protest rallies in our hometown. The next day, Vinnis Parnell and I teamed up with Michael Mykkel and we wrote the script.  As of right now, we are still in pre-production, making sure everything's in order before filming later this month.

JASPER: What has been your biggest challenge with this project so far?

STEVENSON: Creating real facts. Not just by accident but by proving these things are bad occurrences. 

JASPER: Who are your actors in this film? Who is the crew? 

STEVENSON: We have two outstanding actors, Nnaemeka Okeke and Jason Paul Edwards and we also have the beautiful and talented actress, Skylan Kimbrell.  As for the crew, we have Michael Mykkel, the co-writer of “J.U.S.T.I.C.E,” our director Vinnis Parnell and myself along with Vincent Monaco, Tamara Abrosimova, Julia Petrucelli, Courtney Geiger, Ashley McNeil, Augustina Quick and many others that will get their names in the credit. 

JASPER: Where do you hope to screen "Justice"?

STEVENSON: Anywhere we can get it screened. (The Nickelodeon Theatre, Sundance, Tribeca, etc.)

JASPER: Tell me about your writing process?

STEVENSON: The writing process was basically viewing things that were happening around our city by jotting down notes, comments made, decisions, outcomes, and I just wrote it into a screenplay. 

JASPER: Do you have any additional comments on your project?

STEVENSON: Yes. We have a GoFundMe page that helps bring “J.U.S.T.I.C.E” to life. Our website is www.gofundme.com/justice-short-film. You could also follow us on Instagram: www.instagram.com/justice_the_movie  and liked the page on www.facebook.com/justicethemovie. Stay tuned with eyes wide open.

Corona Times - Wade Sellers Catches Up with Fellow Filmmaker Robbie Robertson

Screen shot from Whistler’s Mother

One of the activities artists and arts patrons report missing the most during the pandemic that we seem to be in the middle of, rather than at the end, is the opportunity to simply hear what’s up with our fellow artists. What are you working on? How’s that project coming along? Let me use you as a sounding board.

So, early on, Jasper began just checking in with various artists and arts admins to try to do our part to keep those important conversations flowing. We call this series Corona Times.

Today, Jasper film editor and Jasper Project board of directors president, Wade Sellers, caught up with artist Robbie Roberson to touch base with him about his 2018 film, Whistler’s Mother, which still seems to have legs two years later. Here’s their conversation.

JASPER: For those who aren't familiar, give us a quick recap of how the film, Whistler's Mother, came to life and what the film is about. 

ROBERTSON: Whistler’s Mother was my first film as writer/director and it was funded by the SC Indie Grants program, an incredible funding opportunity from the SC Film Office. It’s a short film that gives a fictional backstory to the woman in the famous painting by James McNeill Whistler or, as I call it, a dark fable origin story. I wanted it to have the feel of a fairy tale while also paying homage to some of my horror inspirations like the original Dark Shadows TV show and Hammer Studio horror films from the ‘60s- ‘70s.

 JASPER:  What were your initial expectations and goals for the film? 

ROBERTSON: My initial expectation was to simply get it made! As a first-time filmmaker, there were so many things to deal with on set on that I never anticipated, so it was an arduous but thrilling “trial by fire” experience. I felt we were making a good film, but you just never know until it’s all over. But once I saw the first cut (by my editor Tyler Matthews), I had the most thrilling level of satisfaction of any creative project I had ever worked on. I got weepy watching it and it’s not a weepy story! Because of my awesome cast and crew, we created something really magical and so I was then very anxious to get other people to watch it. After some educational previews, I continued to work on the film in post-production until it matched the original vision I always had in my head. From that point on, my only expectation was for people to see it on a big screen. 

JASPER: It is a short film and short films typically have a short shelf life. Whistler's Mother has been riding a continued wave for a while now. Give us an overview of where the film has been seen and where it is screening now. 

ROBERTSON: I feel so fortunate that I was able to get the film in some really great film festivals such as the Crimson Screen Horror Film Festival, the Charlotte Film Festival, the Philip K. Dick Film Festival in NYC and Screamfest LA where it screened at the former Grauman’s Chinese Theater in Hollywood. It even screened in Moscow.

With most film festivals having been canceled in 2020 due to the pandemic, I feel really fortunate to have experienced that festival ride. As the festival run was coming to an end, I had some inquiries about distribution but decided to put the film on Amazon where it’s available for rent or purchase.

The audience numbers have been pretty good on Amazon (both in the US and the UK) but I got a really big bounce when Rachel Belofsky, founder of Screamfest LA, asked if I was interested in putting Whistler on her Screamfest YouTube Channel. That was a real honor for me because Rachel is the queen of horror film festivals and Screamfest’s YouTube subscriber count is over 200 thousand people. Whistler’s Mother premiered on that channel in May and, in the last three months alone, it has been viewed nearly 120,000 times. 

JASPER: Has the continued enthusiasm for your film surprised you? 

ROBERTSON: Absolutely. The global reaction on Screamfest’s YouTube channel was amazing and I have had people from all over the world tell me how much they loved the film. I had a long thread of comments from Russians who loved the film mainly because the Baba Yaga, a popular fictional character from Russian folklore, is one of the main characters in my film. I have also had some hater comments—which I also find entertaining at times—but the vast majority of the viewers have given it the thumbs up. The main comment I hear is that people wish the short was a feature film. 

JASPER: How are you hoping to leverage the success of Whistler's Mother with any new projects? 

ROBERTSON: I have written a feature length version of the short which is hugely different and am working on rewrites of it right now.

I have to say that being on the film festival circuit also allowed me to meet some really cool people from L.A. that I hope to be collaborating with on some upcoming projects.

In the last six months, I've also been working on a rewrite of one of my comedies with a prestigious production company and pitching some TV concepts with an actor/producer I met. All of these folks saw Whistler’s Mother, so I think it has given me some industry “cred” in being able to pitch new projects to a new level of collaborators. 

JASPER: Anything else you’d like to add?

ROBERTSON: I never knew I liked directing and producing so much. I have done it on commercial shoots but had only been pursuing screenwriting in my own creative endeavors. But now I know I can do it; I want to make more short films. So, if anyone is looking for an investment, call me up! I have a couple of ideas ready to go.

CORONA TIMES - Jasper Talks with Ce Scott-Fitts at the SC Arts Commission

Ce Scott-Fitts - photo by Rick Fitts

In our continuing coverage of Columbia’s arts community and our responses to COVID-19 and the restrictions it compels, the Jasper Project is touching base with members of the community to see how they are faring. Today, we’re featuring not only an artist in her own right, but also an arts administrator with the South Carolina Arts Commission. Welcome Ce Scott-Fitts, SCAC program director for artist services!

JASPER: Your position at the SC Arts Commission is that of the Artist Services Program Director, and you’ve held this position since last August, is this correct? Isn’t this also a new position for the SCAC? Can you tell us more about why this position was created and what your responsibilities are?  

SCOTT-FITTS: Yes, I have been Artist Services Program Director since August 2019, which was a newly created position. The job was created to provide support and assistance to individual artists of all disciplines for the entire State of SC.  I am responsible for managing fellowships and grants, identifying opportunities, creating sustainability for artists and developing of new programs.

JASPER: What are some examples of the work you do, and when should an artist reach out to you for help?

SCOTT-FITTS: Some of the examples of my work at SCAC include researching funding and creating a discipline based list of resources, reviewing portfolios/work samples, advising and mentoring artists, teaching artists how to apply for grants/fellowship, connecting artists with venues or ways to show their work, helping artists develop a work plan.  Artist can reach out to me if they need assistance with any of these or as they are trying to decide next steps in their career.

JASPER: You came to us from Charlotte. What position or positions did you have in Charlotte that inform your responsibilities at the SCAC?

SCOTT-FITTS: I worked at ArtsPlus (formerly Community School of the Arts) as their Education Director. I was founding staff of McColl Center for Art + Innovation. During my tenure there, I built the education program, curated exhibitions, managed and expanded the residency program and was the Center’s Chef.  I taught at Central Piedmont Community College. I exhibited regionally and nationally at Galleries, non-profits and museums.  Lastly, I have worked as an Arts Consultant with individuals, collectors and non-profits throughout the United States.

JASPER: You are a working artist yourself, is that correct? What is your medium? Have you continued to ply your trade since coming to SC?

SCOTT-FITTS: I began drawing and painting (portraits, figurative work)  at age 6. After completing my undergraduate degree, I began to write poetry, work in mixed media, assemblage, installation and performance.  Over the last 18 months, my work has changed significantly.  Currently I am working on small mixed media/collage portraits.

Dahlia Dreams by Ce Scott-Fitts

Zakiya by Ce Scott-Fitts

JASPER: Where did you train and who were (are) your influences?

SCOTT-FITTS: I completed my undergraduate degree at Wayne State University in Detroit, Michigan, Printmaking Major, French Minor. Many years later I was awarded a fellowship to attend Maryland Institute, College of Art in Baltimore, Maryland, where I received my MFA in Painting. Some of my influences have been Bettye Saar, Joyce Scott, Rei Kawakubo/Commes des Garçons, Robert Ferris Thompson, Jeannette Winterson Eva Hesse and Motown

Self by Ce Scott-Fitts

JASPER: You’ve been here for almost a year now, so, how’s it going? What is your take on the SC arts community at large? What do you see as our strengths and weaknesses? (These two questions apply to “normal life” not COVID-19 life.)  

SCOTT-FITTS: Everything is going well in spite of the  pandemic. I remain excited and happy to have the opportunity to live in Columbia, work with SCAC and South Carolina artists. One of our strengths is that we believe in the necessity of the arts and culture on quality of  life.  Our weaknesses are that we struggle to convey the ways art has value and are challenged when it comes to providing  financial support to those individuals who make arts and culture possible.

JASPER: How can we take advantage of our strengths and work to mitigate our weaknesses?

SCOTT-FITTS: We can begin by purchasing work from artists and designers, establish affordable spaces,  develop arts collectives, create alternative venues where artists can showcase performances, music and dance,  and support experimental theater.

JASPER:  And here we are more than four months into a pandemic that has severely curtailed opportunities for arts of all disciplines. Where is your head right now – what are you thinking or worrying about?  

SCOTT-FITTS: First, I reject the idea of return  to “normal”  Some people may have forgotten that much of what we say we want to "get back to” was not working. Systems that had been in place for years were not designed to nurture and support many of the State’s citizens, particularly people of color, but specifically Black people. This includes the many ways art is fostered, accessed, experienced, validated and critiqued. Over the last four months, we have watched some of these systems end or close. I am hopeful that we can take this opportunity to build something that is inclusive and equitable.

JASPER: What are some examples of problem solving for artists during Corona times that you have seen implemented and are effective?

SCOTT-FITTS: Artists are developing new ways to collaborate and engage audiences. They are also incredibly generous with their time and share resources freely. Some artists are discovering alternative ways of showing  and experiencing work virtually.

JASPER: What suggestions or advice do you have to offer artists of all disciplines as they push forward through these difficult times?

SCOTT-FITTS: Self-care must be addressed so that artists have the mental, physical  and creative energy to continue to make work.

JASPER: What is the best way for artists to reach you?

SCOTT-FITTS: cscottfitts@arts.sc.gov.

Corona Times: Darion McCloud ‘Storyteller’ Brings Families Together with The Magic Purple Circle

by Christina Xan

“…part of what The Magic Purple Circle is supposed to do is to bring a little bit of joy into while the world is burning. And hopefully we're burning off impurities, and we're leaving behind things we don't need. This is going to sound grandiose, but I really do believe this: sometimes just laughing, just loving, is revolutionary.” – Darion McCloud

photo thanks to John Allen

In these scary but often enlightening times, Jasper continues to interview artists, sharing their creations and ideas, new and old, with the community. I recently talked with local artist, performer, and all around wonderful human being, Darion McCloud, about his new project The Magic Purple Circle, in which he reads children’s stories to families at home during quarantine.  

Jasper: You’ve been creating art and performing for so long now. How has that changed or transformed recently with COVID and other social/political events.

McCloud: We are in a real, full-blown pandemic with people in leadership positions not knowing what to do, and now it's out of control. I never imagined the economic, the physical, the spiritual/cultural, the mental havoc it could wreak, and it's pushed me to The Magic Purple Circle. This is my response to the world being on fire. And fire can hurt, but it also can burn away impurities and forge things. I'm thinking after this, hopefully, we learn our lesson until we finally think, "You know, healthcare is pretty important for everybody. Police brutality, police just rolling up on people and killing them is wrong." These are things that we can fix. These are things that we're going to have to fix. That's one thing the uprisings and the pandemic have shown us. All these things that we have, these privileges that we think we have, even the ones we don't have but we think we have, they're not a birthright. We think it's a birthright to go wherever we want to go, and do whatever we want to do, and have whatever we want to have. No, those are the things that people have worked for, and sacrificed, or some people have stolen, but you don't just get them because you're an American. And, so, part of what The Magic Purple Circle is supposed to do is to bring a little bit of joy into while the world is burning. And hopefully we're burning off impurities, and we're leaving behind things we don't need. You can still smile and laugh and be silly. This is going to sound grandiose, but I really do believe this: sometimes just laughing, just loving, is revolutionary.

Jasper: Of all things to create as a response in these times, why a children’s series?

McCloud: Actually, my first time performing, period, was for children as a storyteller. In 1993, I started working with what was then Richland County Public Library. I’m lucky that today a large part of my practice is still with families and with kids. This past March, it was Dr. Seuss's birthday, so I was entered into a lot of Dr. Seuss gigs, and I just thought about all those kids who were at home, not reading Green Eggs and Ham, which is one of my favorite books ever. I would see all these posts online about people complaining about being stuck home with their kids, and I saw my own daughter struggling. She was quiet, but that was the scary part. I knew she had to be struggling. So, this was my little contribution to all that, and people just dug it. People dug it, dug me, and kept hitting me up, and I started making more. Before I knew it, people were hitting me up like, ‘Hey, my kid's mad at you because you haven't made a Magic Purple Circle in a week.’

Jasper: The title – Magic Purple Circle – is so fun. How did you come up with it?

McCloud: I'm from Columbia, and when I first started working with the library, the story time room was on the other side of the building, and inside the story time room, there was a big, plushy purple carpet, and then inside that carpet was a deeper purple circle that I called the story time circle. I used to have a little speech I gave to the attendees, to the people coming to the story time. I'd tell all the parents that if you sat inside the magic purple circle, you had to do everything we did. That included singing songs, the Hokey Pokey, whatever. It was kind of a release, an excuse, like, "Well, I have to do the Hokey Pokey, because I'm inside the purple circle," without them admitting, "I love the Hokey Pokey!" Because of that I always called it the magic purple circle, so when I was trying to think of name for this project, it just brought me full circle to where I first started: sharing stories with families.

Jasper: And how do you choose what stories to share?

McCloud: A lot of it for me is nostalgia. A lot of the books are old. They're books from 20 years ago that I thought were special. Or maybe it’s just something I think is cool, something I think is interesting. Sometimes it’s something I think it is more suited for other people, something I think reflects people. Even today, children of color are underrepresented in children's literature. I don’t know – it's not a real scientific process. It's just what moves me. What moves me, what I think will move someone. It's kind of cool, people often say, "Oh man, this made my day," or sometimes, every blue moon, somebody's like, "I cried". It's just cool. And, I mean, I love picture books. I don't think you outgrow a great picture book. Everything that you're looking for in the arts, period, is there. Great storytelling, great words, economy of language.

Jasper: Would you say the whole process of the show is organic like that?

McCloud: Yeah, it's unscripted. I'm real comfortable in that environment. One of the things I did was I ran an improv group for a while. I just say what's real for me. That doesn't mean I don't make mistakes. If it's a minor mistake, I just keep it. Like if I mispronounced a word or something. And I kind of like that, too, because I like the kids knowing. It's not so sterile as a lot of times on television, there's never a flub. So unknowingly, you make this impression that a flaw is a mistake. I just know I'll make a flub and come back and say, "Oh, I mispronounced that word." I think it's easy because I speak my truth, and it's easy because I'm doing what I love, and I hope what I love, what I'm doing, is good for people. I love it. I love what I'm doing. I love the books. I love doing that, I love having fun with the families. So, like I say, I just kind of speak the truth of the moment.

Jasper: Do you plan to do The Magic Purple Circle for as long as you can?

McCloud: Yeah. I didn't envision it getting where it is, and it's made me think. One of the things I've always wanted to do is I want a TV show. I'm hoping The Magic Purple Circle can evolve into a family TV show. I grew up on Electric Company, Sesame Street, Mr. Rogers, Zoom. My childhood is the '60s, '70s. So, I want to do something like that.

Jasper: And you said Magic Purple Circle moves around, right?

McCloud: Yeah, I did one for Colleton County right at the beginning of the summer and with the Columbia Museum of Art a couple weeks ago. One just aired with Richland Library, and I still want to do smaller ones for families.

Jasper: What's the best way people can support you and the project?

McCloud: Find Magic Purple Circle on YouTube. I mean I'm just like every other artist during COVID-19. This is what I do. This is my gig. Money is always appreciated. 99% of the people you see on stage, they're out of work now. That's how it is for most artists. We're making work, but even that is limited. People sharing the work, that helps a lot because hopefully the more people see it and the more people can talk to me about it, the better I can make it. People may know networks or venues I could use. But the most important thing for me is sharing. If you don't have any money, if you don't have any influence...that's not what I'm doing this for. I'm doing this just for people, hopefully to make people's day a little bit better. Make people laugh a little bit, make people hug their kids a little tighter.

Jasper: Have you had help from people putting the show on and sharing it?

McCloud: I'm kind of a one-man gang, one-man operation. Michaela [Pilar Brown] has done some great work; she designed my logo for this. I’ve co-created with Molly Ledford, Heather Leigh, Bonita Peeples, and Drew Baron. Sam McWhite has done this incredible music. When I can expand it, I have people, but for the most part, it's just kind of me.

Jasper: And, as a storyteller, do you have people or figures that have inspired you?

McCloud: There are too many to name but Prince, African American painter Jacob Lawrence, comic book creator Jack “King” Kirby, and the Pittsburgh Steelers to name a few.

Jasper: How about other adventures? Are you working on any other projects right now?

McCloud: It's not defined yet, but I’m trying to work on some adult stuff, too, because working for families is good, but there's more. I'm lucky enough to have those two halves. To love the family work and have that, but also, I love to do very…I call it the backbreaking stuff. So, like when the uprisings happened, the conversations now, these are conversations I've been having with my art since I became an adult, when I was still a visual artist. As a theater artist, this is the type of work I love. Like I said, I call it the backbreaking planes, where it forces you to look in the mirror, even if it's not ‘you’ that you see. Maybe it's your friend or maybe it's your family or maybe it is you, but it forces you to look. Or maybe the you, the we, is sometimes larger. Race, gender, class, nationalism, whatever. I love that type of work in my adult work, so I'm working on some stuff to address that.

Jasper: Well, as you and others continue to work on these projects, do you have any advice you’d give to creators who want to respond to this world on fire but don’t know how?

McCloud: I can't really give advice but trust yourself. It's different for everybody. Somebody might take two years to process all this, or it ekes out into your work little by little, or you do one big thing. I think that's one of the traps of this thing has been everybody feels like, "Well, I'm stuck at home. I have to create. I should be creating. I have all this time." And you put this weird pressure on yourself. Hell, I'm still processing. I'm working, making things, but I'm not done processing. For one thing, this thing, it shifts so often. I would just say trust yourself, man. Don't try to beat yourself up too much. Just trust yourself.

You can find The Magic Purple Circle at YouTube here and check out McCloud’s recent collaboration with the Richland Library here.

Be sure to follow Jasper on social media (The Jasper Project on Facebook; @the_jasper_project on Instagram; @JASPERadvises on Twitter) to keep up with local art events like The Magic Purple Circle.

Darion McCloud, winner of the 2018 Jasper Theatre Artist of the Year

Announcing Accepted Submissions for Fall Lines & Winners of Fall Lines Awards

The Jasper Project, in conjunction with Richland Library, Friends of Richland Library, and One Columbia for Arts and Culture, is proud to announce the authors whose work has been accepted for publication in the seventh edition of Fall Lines – a literary convergence, as well as the recipients of the 2020 Fall Lines Awards for the Saluda River Prize for Poetry and the Broad River Prize for Prose.

Congratulations to Randy Spencer whose short fiction, Ghost Ship, was selected from more than one hundred prose submissions as the winner of the Broad River Prize for Prose, and to Lisa Hammond, whose poem, Hydrangeas, was selected from more than 400 submissions as the winner of the Saluda River Prize for Poetry.

Judges for this year’s awards were Barrett Warner for fiction and Julia Wendell for poetry. 

Barrett Warner is the author of Why Is It So Hard to Kill You? (Somondoco Press, 2016) and My Friend Ken Harvey (Publishing Genius, 2014. He has won the Salamander fiction prize and his short stories have appeared in The Adroit, Phoebe, Crescent Review, Oxford Magazine, Berkeley Fiction Review, Quarter after Eight, and elsewhere. He has also won the Princemere, Liam Rector, Luminaire (Alternating Current), and Cloudbank poetry prizes; and the Tucson Book Festival essay prize. In 2016, he was awarded a Maryland State Arts Council Individual Artist Award for his personal essays on farming and the rhythms of farm life. He used those funds to move to South Carolina. In May, 2019 he received the nonfiction fellowship at the Longleaf Writers’ Conference. Recent efforts appear in Beloit Poetry Journal, Rabbit Catastrophe Review, Anti-Heroin Chic, Disquiet Arts, Sou’wester, and Pirene’s Fountain. 

Julia Wendell received her B.A. from Cornell University, her M.A. in English and American Literature from Boston University, and Her M.F.A. in creative writing from the University of Iowa, Writer's Workshop.  She is the author of five full-length collections of poems and three chapbooks. Her most recent book of poems is Take This Spoon (Main Street Rag Press, 2014). Additionally, she is the author of two memoirs, Finding My Distance (Galileo Press, 2009) and her recent Come to the X (Galileo Press, 2020). A Bread Loaf and Yaddo Fellow, her poems have been widely published in such journals as American Poetry Review, Prairie Schooner, The Antioch Review, The Missouri Review, Hayden's Ferry Review, Nebraska Review, Crazyhorse, and many others. She is the Founding Editor of Galileo Press since its inception in 1979. She lives in Aiken, South Carolina, with her husband, editor and critic, Barrett Warner.

While the annual release of Fall Lines is typically accompanied by a reading and celebration, this year, due to restrictions accompanying COVID-19, the editors have opted to reveal the names of the authors whose work has been accepted for publication, but delay the actual release event and book distribution until the writing community can safely gather together to share and celebrate.

Fall Lines – a literary coalition is edited by Cindi Boiter and Ed Madden, with assistance from Lee Snelgrove and Tony Tallent.

Congratulations to the following authors:

Ann Humphries – Kite Boy from Bangladesh, To Think I almost Missed These Paintings, and The Bench

John Gulledge – Forgetting Pop

Al Black – Night Watchman, Pandemic Meditation on the Second Anniversary of My Mother’s Passing

Lisa Hammond – Hydrangeas *

Lawrence Rhu – Amends

Lisa Hase-Jackson – Her Wild Self, Privilege

Derek Berry – landscape with ritual superstition, on the morning I tell my father

Jennifer Gilmore – Flecks of Gold

Debra Daniel – Why the Rabbit Died, As we Move On

Nathalie Anderson – Lamp-Lit

Betsy Thorne – For the Love of Pete, View from Office in a Small City

Ruth Nicholson – Spring Safari:  Hartsville, SC, Overdue

Ellen Malphrus – Refusing the Flood, Premonition: January 2, 2020

Eric Morris – Medicine Game, They, and The Gift

Rachel Burns – mortality tastes Like key lime pie

Dale Bailes – Time/Travel, Columbia to Pawley’s, After the Hurricane

Arthur Turfa – unfinished Kaddish

Betsy Thorne – New Restrictions

Danielle Verwers – The Governor Issues an Executive Order Before the Evening News, 1993, and Horseshoe Falls

Randy Spencer – Quarantine, Ghost Ship

Susan Craig – The Way We See a Goldfinch

Libby Bernardine – Ode

Kristine Hartvigsen – Sleepover

Tim Conroy – Balances

Bo Petersen – Little Gleams

Ceille Baird Welch – The Inevitable Unfriending of Merrily Thompson, Merrily Thompson Remembers

Jon Tuttle – hush

Francis Pearce – Retreat

The Jasper Galleries at Meridian Features Timely Portrait Exhibit on Race and Authenticity

Since 2019, the Jasper Project has been showing art in the external gallery spaces of the Meridian Building in downtown Columbia as well as in the building's lobby. In one of the first major exhibits since the start of COVID-19, the gallery is presenting a timely and poignant portrait show by Dalvin Spann and Lee Ann Kornegay.

The show features a collection of black and white portraits of everyday people in various poses and places. Aptly titled Black and White, the show “came out of a desire to gain and promote a better understanding of people of different color,” the Artist Statement says.  

Spann, a black 36-year-old photographer, and Kornegay, a white 57-year-old filmmaker and photographer, together “envisioned it as a project that would challenge themselves, then ultimately viewers of their work, to learn new things about their subjects and talk about what it feels like to be black or white in the current times.”  

Each photographer agreed to photograph people of a different color.  

“The goal was to step outside of our comfort zones and shoot outside of our race. We wanted to spark change and conversation in all walks of life,” Spann reflects, “This was important then and now more important than ever with what we are seeing socially around the world.”

These portraits show people as themselves, as human beings. Through dance, sport, or a simple smile, the subjects of these photos express themselves authentically. The portraits present not just a reflection of the subject but a reflection of the witness.

“I think if we take the time to talk to people without stereotyping or having a classism approach, we would be further along in changing the world we live in,” Spann asserts, “It is important that we first look in the mirror at ourselves and accept the things we were misinformed about or taught to ensure we do not repeat the cycle again.”

The photos are set up throughout the window that lines Washington Street.

In addition to the portrait exhibit, Bert Easter, Jasper board member and manager of the gallery, has refreshed the space by adding a couple new UofSC student pieces and an extraordinary pottery piece by Virginia Scotchie as well as moving a few current pieces around to give a fresh look.

The Jasper Galleries at Meridian is located at 1320 Main Street, and interested individuals can drop in or drive by Washington and Sumter Streets to see the art.

With a message ever so important in today’s world, the show aims to say that regardless of race, we can never move forward with successful and positive race relationships until we get to know each other, share fears and joys alike, and have authentic relationships. 

“We produced Black and White in 2017 to create a vehicle for meaningful conversations between blacks and whites in our community,” Kornegay shares, “A way to get to know each other in a deeper way and to prompt dialogues of understanding.

-by Christina Xan