Friday, June 22, 2012

a dog with a pig in it's mouth

During our beach vacation we had an ice cream visit with Logan Woodle.  The image above is a new work by him and you can see it and much more on his website

Logan hit the lottery his freshman year and ended up in my 3D-1 class at Winthrop.  It may be more true to say that I hit the lottery since his work in my classes made me look like a good teacher.  His interest was jewelry/metals and he was quite the dedicated student.  He was gullible enough to sign up for my 3D-2 class and I was able to watch him complete his undergraduate degree while racking up lots of awards and scholarships. 

The move from Conway, SC, his family home, to Rock Thrill, SC was not a tough one.  I think he had some salty air withdrawals but he was close enough to home and surrounded by Carolina culture so he still seemed to feel at home.  The move to Pennsylvania for graduate school was a tad tougher.  He spent the last couple of years a rock's throw from one of the great lakes enduring snow, cold and being away from his very close family unit.

His distance from "home" allowed him to see exactly what details about the family farm he missed and allowed him to begin thinking about why he missed them.  This thought process led him to create his best work yet, a series of metal sculptures directly related to his family and his home. 

While eating his mint chocolate chip he told me that oddly enough he found that he missed humidity while he was away.  An odd thing to miss for sure. 

We just passed the one year mark living here on the plantation.  Since we began packing over a year ago I've been thinking about the idea of home.  Is where we live now "home"?  Is "home" where we grew up?  Is it where our parents live?  Is it a location or an intangible feeling?

When we packed for the beach trip the kids each grabbed a few things that made them feel comfortable.  A stuffed animal, a particular blanket, a ball.  They took things with them so they could feel a bit of "home" while they were away.  In a way, we did the same thing when we moved here.  We brought a magnolia sprout from Laura Jean's magnolia tree.  We brought flower bulbs from my mom and Georgie's grandmother.  We brought photos and gifts and keepsakes from our respective families and placed them in the new house.  We have bits and pieces of "home" all around us in an attempt to make us feel more comfortable here. 

For our kids, this will likely be the "home" they remember.  Not the house, but the routines, the long term objects, and the associations with people, colors and textures. 

1 comment:

Java said...

Used to be that my Mama's place was "home." I got older, had children, then more children, and our family developed our own routines and traditions. It's a gradual process, but now I live at my "home" and Mama's place is not mine.