The rare follow-up article

It's really nice when someone feels that they have talent and I feel they have talent, and then I see them getting accolades for being talented. It kind of makes me feel, although I have done nothing, that I have camaraderie with them, or a small connection. It's that feeling of validation.

Often, when I see people doing creative things that I think are worth telling people about, I pitch a story to an editor about that person. Such was the case for Stephanie Teague, when I read an etsy profile interview with her and realized she was from Greensboro.

So I was off and running -- I have a writing outlet in Greensboro, and I pitched the story to the editor, she fired back questions, and in March of last year, my first article about Stephanie was published in Go Triad. 

For 99 out of 100 profiles, that's the end of the story. But not for this one. The editor (Carla, great personality, sense of humor, and an editor who makes me a better writer --the best kind) called me again recently when a press release about Stephanie crossed her desk. The designer had won a national award, and it was time for a follow up.

So I got to chat with her again, this time about winning the Fffashion Competition, a fur-free fashion design competition promoting the ethical and environmental benefits of foregoing fur fashions. For a profile writer, this is a sweet gig. You've done the research, so you have the background, it's a quick interview, and if you are fortunate and liked the interview the first time, you have the rare opportunity to have a reason to call again. 

Stephanie's winning design

Congrats, Steph! This coming month, look for her at Charlotte Fashion Week and opening up a downtown Greensboro studio ... and as for me, I'll be here at this little desk. Smiling.

Marsh Musings

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

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

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

Or this one by Jan Sasser:

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

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

The land is exceptionally flat.

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

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

An eater's diary

I eat lunch out in Charleston a lot. I mean, a lot. Well, not everyday or anything, but a lot for someone who works within walking distance of her own well-stocked fridge. Of course, eating lunch is a great place for the business meeting, and I have my favorite spots about town.

So my recent article for Charleston Scene on the rise of "fast and fresh" food  was not only of interest to me as a writer, but as an eater as well. I'm pretty blatant about my dislike for national-chain restaurants (Waffle House, you make the cut, but for different reasons than the food), and so Charleston's thriving restaurant scene is a perfect down-filled nest for this little chicky. And its great food isn't just at the high end (congrats Husk!) but on the everyday plate as well.

The wraps at Black Bean Company filled with tofu, a treat even for a non-vegetarian. Just the smell and the smiles when you walk into The Pink Pig. The nachos at Zia Taqueria, and the Palapa Mas ... oh the Palapa Mas. And then there are the food trucks. Here is an ode to one tasty truck, by artist Leslie McKellar. My sentiments, exactly, on discovering that good food and good ingredients are at every price point in Charleston food.

A place for Modern Design?

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

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

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

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

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

Low Tide on Folly Beach

Today, when I think about what is inspiring, I think about yesterday. Folly Beach was at low tide, the flat waves twinkling in the morning sun and the wide beach just waking up to families setting up tents for the day.

I go to the family side, not the surfing side, and there was plenty of sand stretching between us and the waves, patterns of shells strewn on the sand like brushstrokes. I lazily walked along the water line for a stretch, looking but not finding shark's teeth to give to my nephew. Instead, I found the sound of the shells being moved against each other by the waves, found the foamy edge of the wave lapping about my very-slightly tanned ankles, and watched as sea kayakers embarked on a morning journey, all from one push of a paddle against sand.

There was a misty, humid haze looking toward Kiawah, and on the other side, the pier, with its sounds of fishermen and the gift shop distant. We were in a changing playground, a shrinking and expanding one, full of sand and sea from the bottom to the very top of our thoughts so we could think of nothing else ...

The Taste of Green

I like unusual flavors. Meaning, when other kids were into the Sour Patch Kids, I discovered violet pastilles on my first trip to a gourmet food store (of course, yes, I was Miss Popular!).

Nowadays, I'm the one who orders soup at a Mexican restaurant, goes for the rose pops at the ultra-hip Las Paletas in Nashville, likes the taste of bitters in a drink and is obsessed with herbs. Lavender honey. Clove chewing gum. And mint gelato.


Luckily, I have a constant source for that last one. Chef John Ondo of Lana daily creates fresh gelato, and I am fortunate enough to represent them through The Beehive. When I found out last week (while putting together the restaurant bi-weekly newsletter) that he had revamped the dessert menu, I started to palpitate ... had he removed my beloved mint gelato? (no) if so, am I nice enough that I can make a special request? (no) if not, can I make this myself? (no)

A quick phone call eased my nerves, and the mint gelato and I will be together again. Why is it so good? Because it tastes of minty green, not minty gum flavor. Because it's perfectly balanced, perfectly creamy, and perfectly portioned. And because it tastes of summer, of the bounty that is mint when it's growing unfettered, and it makes me smile with palate joy. Try it -- it might make you smile too.