December in Charleston

​Holidays are over and now we go back to kissing our dogs, sans dog Santa hat or dog reindeer antlers or dog snowman sweater.  Yes, we now simply kiss our naked dogs. The dogs are probably healed of the usual holiday diarrhea resulting from digesting turkey and “healthy” treats shaped like a Xmas trees. They are back to boring grain and normal poops. Some have altered their appearance. For example, my Daisy-- as seen here in the picture—is sometimes covered in her new Xmas hoody. She’s forgotten why or how she obtained the new look,  it’s just another thing her mom forces her to wear in winter.
 
So back to normal days with great memories. I had a great holiday season. During December, I visited Charleston, SC for a dog art and book signing event at Dog & Horse Fine Art gallery of Charleston, owned by my friend, Jaynie Spector. The dog paintings were awesome, particularly a few of the corgis and bulldogs. (see paintings) The people were just as awesome. Funny, engaging, smart. Charming. We all know charm was invented in the South. Sure, there are charming people everywhere, but until you meet a charming southerner, you don’t really know what charm is. You think you know, but you don’t.
 
(Full disclosure—I am originally from Savannah, Georgia.)
 
Anyway, I am very thankful for my special friend, Jaynie Spector, who organized the event, entertained me, fed me and made me laugh and laugh. And of course, Harriet Whelchel who took me on a wonderful tour of Charleston, let me stay with her a night and supported my book, and also made me laugh and laugh. Southerners make you laugh. This is separate from the charm but kind of related.
 
The generosity of my friends got me thinking about generosity in general. Generosity of friends. Generosity of strangers. Generosity of business people who work hard to promote art—whether it’s painters or writers or musicians. Generosity is important to artists because art is is a struggle.
 
Artists are little sponges going about their lives absorbing everything, then twisting themselves into a knot to let it out. The wist results in poetry, paintings, memoirs, literary or commercial novels, and sometimes, funny little dog books. All art to me is important-- not just the loud, famous, agented art of the top one percent, but the quiet local art. The street painter, the small press poet, the small press novel that captures something funny and absurd or quiet and subtle. Whether it’s literary or commercial, paintings or music, art is important to our souls--our capacity to empathize, expand awareness.   
 If we did not have these promotors who assist the small press writers, the local artists, the local musicians, our world would consist of only the loud famous voices. Think about that. What if only the loud, well connected, traditionally famous art survived? What if we never heard the community voice--that hidden observation by the person standing in the corner?  
We would never see paintings by an African American street artist, like the one I met in Charleston—Joseph Johnson, or “P-Nut.” 

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P-Nut was born in Charleston in 1955 and survived segregation and poverty. His life was a challenge, but he absorbed it with his spongey, charming, spiritual self, then twisted it all out on the page and canvas. He published his first book of verse in 1996 and second in 2017. Now, Jaynie Spector, of Dog & Horse Fine Art, promotes his work, which includes not only poetry, but also, vibrant, alive paintings with charcoal black characters connecting with each other and the land, all surrounded by the loud, playful world of blue. Some have bubbles floating above their heads filled with simple, direct dialogue. These paintings, called “Bloopers,” reveal a light-hearted, simple world view--people trying to survive scars, not with anger and depression, but with faith and connection. P-Nut chooses vivacious, dancing, laughing blue for his background color. The blue of the sky on a gorgeous March day in Charleston. The blue of the earth when viewed from space.--all oxygen and ocean. The blue of life. The blue of P-Nut.
 
P-Nut had taken his art to downtown Charleston and visited galleries, walking into lobbies with his gregarious and charming self. No one could find a place for his style in their collections. But when he walked into Jaynie Spector’s office, she reviewed his lively colors, his simple words, and characters, his “Bloopers,” and she took him on. She took on this local artist because she saw something unique in his perspective, something the loud world could not pause to recognize. She saw it, she promoted it. And he’s done quite well in Charleston. I was glad to meet him, listen to his story, view his art, read his poems. 
We need these people who promote small artists. Thanks to everyone-- galleries, libraries, local bookstores, small presses-- for giving the small voice a chance.