During one of my summer adventures, I had the joy of spending several days at South Porch Artist Residency in Summerville, SC. This was my second time staying briefly with Brad and Brian in their beautiful historic home. The white picket fence, the towering live oak trees and the perfect front porch all scream “southern charm” just as much as the hot, humid summer air. This place is perfection and so are Brad and Brian. When I’m there, I feel as if I’ve been adopted into the family.
My week was packed with creative activities on a very tight schedule, but in all of my frantic coming and going, I noticed that I would see Brad and or Brian each night on the front porch. At first I thought this odd because, who sits out on the porch bathing in mosquitos and shirt-soaking humidity in July in the South? With a second glance, I noticed the giant oscillating fan inches from their perch. A perfect solution to keeping mosquitos away and keeping cool in the soupy night air.
On my last day there, I had a few minutes to talk with Brad and Brian on the porch and I used that as an opportunity to look around and see their front porch setup. It was clear they used the porch as an extension of the house. It was an office annex where they could get work done but also listen to the cicadas, watch the birds and feel the breeze blow from the trees. I was inspired.
During my second year of undergrad, my roommate, Chad, and I got bored one fall evening and decided to go for a walk around the beautiful, Southern campus. Winthrop University had (and has) so many courtyards, colonnades and front porches rich with white wooden rocking chairs. We noticed the lines of empty rockers and decided that we would simply take over a few of those chairs and sit. To us non-partying art kids, this provided a bit of a fresh perspective on our small world. We would get bored in our dorm, head out to find a suitable pair of rocking chairs and we’d sit and be goofy for a while, laughing and cackling until we decided to head back to our dorm. Brad and Brian had reawakened that memory for me.
Driving home from South Porch in July, I thought about that inspiration. I was inspired by the use of the porch and I also just happened to have a front porch of my own. I knew that I was romanticizing my own porch sitting possibilities and that I would have some personal obstacles to overcome. I understood that it would be very difficult for me to sit still on the porch. That stillness is what I coveted when I saw Brad and Brian sitting on their porch. My buzzing week of activity stood in contrast to my (probably incorrect) outside perception of their nightly peaceful porch sits. I wanted to sit on my porch, but I also wanted to be able to be still long enough to enjoy sitting on my porch. My summer of art adventures was not going to slow down for another few weeks, but even a night or two of sitting over a week or two might still do me some good.
I also had a whole lot of daily responsibilities lined up for each summer day and beyond. Aside from the summer art adventures, I would need to set aside time in the evenings to go to cross country practice, eat dinner when we returned, clean up the kitchen after dinner, shower, handle emails, prepare art for delivery, plan upcoming trips and still make time for nightly TV time with Blue and Violet. I knew it would be weird in that rush of nightly activity to hit pause and tell everyone to hang on a few minutes while I sit quietly outside on the porch.
At dinner one night, I explained Brad and Brian’s nightly ritual and how cool I thought it was. This was me preparing the way. Then I got up from dinner, cleaned the kitchen and announced I would be outside for a while. I turned my fan on high, stole a rocking chair from inside and sat on my porch. The sound of the cicadas and katydids was overwhelmingly loud. I’m sure there were crickets in there too. My personal army of hummingbirds quickly got used to my presence and began to ignore me while fighting and chirping over the feeders. The sun was setting behind the house and the clouds on the horizon in front of me reflected the warm colors of the sunset. My view was green, blue, orange and beautiful. I went inside a while later with several mosquito bites on my head.
I realized I needed to make some adjustments for my next porch sit. I would need sleeves to keep the mosquitos off the backs of my arms. I would probably need a hood over my bald, mosquito landing pad of a head. I tried not to scratch the itchy lumps on my head and headed back out the next night undeterred. The thin camo long sleeve hoodie was perfect. My arms and head how had a layer of protection and on the cooler nights, it wasn’t too warm with the fan on high. I added another chair for a side table to sit drinks, sketchbooks and computers on. It was a bit redneck, but my porch sits were getting more convenient, more cozy.
Sitting still was and is the most fierce enemy of my porch sits. As soon as I sit and my brain registers that I’m still, it kicks into high gear. “Don’t forget you have to do that. Maybe you should go do it now. You haven’t checked your emails in a while. Did you get into that show? Maybe you should check. Remember the email you forgot? Now would be a good time to answer it. Dude, the grass needs cutting. When are you going to take care of those vines and limbs? You could just run grab the pruners and cut those right now and it would be done.” The commentary is nonstop. Don’t worry, I’m still undiagnosed, so it’s ok.
The stillness was what made it worthwhile at the same time. It’s not really a physical rest for me so much as it is a mental rest. Maybe rest isn’t even the most accurate word. There’s definitely something that happens out there, whether it’s a 5 minute sit or a 30 minute sit. Even if I give in and check my phone or text someone, there’s something that happens that is, perhaps, spiritual. Sitting outside and getting tuned into the sights and sounds of nature is a bit of a reset. It’s hard to be annoyed when an iridescent green hummingbird is hovering a foot from your face to see if you pose a threat. It’s tough to remember the bad parts of your day when you’re surrounded by the saturated colors of summer. It’s difficult to hear the negative voices when you have a chorus of cicadas in your ears.
I have a lot of improvements to make in order to perfect my porch sits, but I’m out here, right now working on it. There’s a cricket to my right sounding off periodically. The hummingbirds have called it a day and I know soon they’ll head back to Central and South America. The tree tops are gently swaying in a light breeze and at 7:23 pm, they’re almost just dark silhouettes against a sky that was blue just a moment ago. There’s an orb weaver spider working on his sticky architecture beside the porch column and there are bats flitting through their nightly acrobatic routines in front of me. It’s kind of magical out here.
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