unsolicited advice

I write these blog posts in Word and leave them sitting, unsaved, on my computer while I give them time to breathe.  I’m not interested in firing off angry missles everytime something moves me to have thoughts that linger outside my morning run or evening commute.  I like how this process allows for the element of chance.  It’s as if the Universe gets a say in whether or not I post something.  I had a good one typed out a couple of weeks ago and I decided I didn’t regret writing it last night.  I opened my computer to find it had vanished.  I don’t remember closing Word completely and it asking if I wanted to save it.  I suppose the Universe spoke after all.  I guess if you want to hear about that one, you’ll need to buy me a coffee sometime.

In the mean-time, here’s a few snippets of what’s been on my mind:

Feelings are great.  Feelings, however, should not dictate if someone is allowed to do something.  You saw something that made you feel a certain way?  Cool.  Maybe it made you feel bad.  That doesn’t mean the thing that motivated you to have feelings should be illegal.  Didn’t like what the comedian said?  Stop watching.  Don’t think it’s ok to do something? Don’t do it.  Everything isn’t about you.

Hey, maybe stop watching the trial on TV.  It’s gross.  You are unknowingly contributing to the glorification of crime.  This creep accused of something is being elevated to comic book nemesis status because you’re obsessed with it.  Maybe you don’t realize that sick minded people are paying attention and seeing the celebrity status the alleged murderer is gaining.  That can’t be good, right?  Yuck.

Everyone isn’t the same.  We’re not supposed to be the same.  All our different thoughts, ideas and approaches to life are what make us able to solve problems and survive for centuries on this planet.  (Yes, of course I see the contradiction between this statement and the previous.  I’m ok with it.  You can be too.)  Stop expecting everyone to agree with you.  Stop trying to get everyone to believe the same things.  Everyone shouldn’t be in your religion.  Everyone shouldn’t vote your way.  And believe it or not, not everyone needs to go to therapy just because you love it.

Speaking of therapy…Instagram is not a licensed therapist.  We all just pick and choose the quotes we want to repost based on the day we’re having.  Reposting that quote won’t fix you.  Developing an intentional lifestyle that is healthy and sustainable will fix you.  This requires getting up every day and doing hard things.  Reposting the quote is easier.  Choose wisely.

Oh, and maybe save that file before you just leave it there, minimized on your desktop.  That potential blog post wasn’t the only file I lost.  Or don’t.  I didn’t save this one either.  Maybe life is more interesting out here on the razor’s edge.

Y’all be nice.

the accidental organizer

I somehow managed to get myself into a situation and it’s the kind of situation where there needs to be complete transparency because money is involved.  Except for the math, the money part is easy.  The stress and worry that came up was both surprising and much less easy.  In the spirit of transparency, let’s just air it all out, shall we?

Ms. Emmet is a fixture on our campus.  Back before the days of an on-campus Starbucks, there was a Java City coffee kiosk thing in the Library and I’m pretty sure it was there when I was hired.  I had my coffee at home and rarely needed an extra cup at school so I wasn’t a regular customer.  I did, however, notice the very kind lady serving the coffee.  It was Ms. Emmet.  

When Starbucks arrived, Ms. Emmet took over her coffee duties there and that’s when I really started to notice her kindness.  Every coffee she serves is served with a smile, a greeting by name, and a wish for you to have a wonderful day.  I’ve gotten to know her better over the years and like everyone else, I’ve grown to love her more and more.  

Last semester I found out Ms. Emmet was having some health concerns and when I tried to ask how she was without seeming nosey, she shared that she had been diagnosed with cancer and was starting chemotherapy.  She was positive and optimistic and every morning she continued to share her love and kindness with every single customer on campus.  

A few students and I were talking about what we could do to help Ms. Emmet a few days ago.  We wanted to sort of take up a donation to help assist with expenses because we all know what a financial burden medical bills can be.  We tossed around a lot of ideas hoping to provide the best possible outcome for donations while also being totally transparent with where the money went.  After a lot of debate it was decided that it should be an informal offer amongst friends on Instagram.  I would post the offer to collect donations and we would pass along whatever we got to Ms. Emmet.

I knew we were mostly dealing with college students and I figured we’d get a few small donations.  Maybe we’d get a couple hundred bucks and it would be a nice gesture to Ms. Emmet.  I posted the offer on Saturday evening and 24 hours later we had collected about what I expected, a couple hundred bucks.  As it got later on Sunday, I noticed that the post kept getting likes by people I didn’t know.  It was being reposted and reaching new circles of friends apparently.  When I woke up Monday morning to run, I had a lot of notifications on Venmo.  I glanced and saw a lot of new contributions.  It wasn’t until I got to school and got out my calculator that I started to get excited.  We were getting close to $1,000.  I figured that given the Wednesday deadline, we’d make it to at least that mark.  

By Monday evening the notifications were still pouring in.  On Tuesday morning as I scrolled through the notifications, my excitement turned to a more stressful feeling.  This was going to be a lot of money.  Why was I in charge of it?  How do you handle large sums of money?  How do I even get this money off of Venmo and into my account?  How was I going to give this money to Ms. Emmet?  This was way more than a few twenty dollar bills now.  I was still thrilled that this was going so well, so I repressed all the stress and anxiety and walked into the sculpture studio where I was greeted by a student who had handed me a twenty the day before.  The student smiled and said that her parents heard what we were doing and wanted to donate.  She handed me some bills and I saw that one of them was a $100.  I said to thank the parents and I stuffed the money in my pocket for safe keeping until I could get back to my office.  Meanwhile, the notifications kept coming.

A couple of people handed me some cash that also went into the pocket and when I made it back to my office to put the money away, it felt like a lot, but I just stuffed it and kept moving.  I hadn’t added anything up since the first calculator incident but I knew that with the notifications piling up from Venmo this was going to be a real thing to deal with now.  I needed to start thinking about how this was going to work in reality.  I had some funds sitting in the Venmo account and I went ahead and transferred $900 to my bank because it takes up to three days for the transfer to complete.  (I didn’t want to pay any fees for an instant transfer because I wanted all the money to go to Ms. Emmet.)  I mostly tried not to think about it for the rest of the school day.  When I got home I actually looked at the cash handed to me and there was about $700 in there.  Wow.

Tuesday evening I got out the calculator.  We were around $1,900.  Holy crap.  I’m a teacher in South Carolina so that’s a lot of money to me.  I felt the pressure increase.  The $900 I transferred might be complete in time to put the money on a Visa card or to get cash, but what about that other $1,000?  Teachers don’t just have piles of money lying about.  

This is when I should confess that around 2005 I handed the household finances over to my wife.  I was pretty decent with handling the money but it was a constant source of concern and I was thrilled to pass that task off to her.  I honestly haven’t looked at our account since.  I know we can buy gas and groceries and we seem to be able to vacation each summer so that’s the extent of my financial thoughts.  A thousand dollars is a LOT of money to me.  Do we have a thousand dollars?  I have no freakin’ idea.  

That’s about the time some dude commented on my post about what we were doing.  Mr. Johnny Come Lately decided to chime in about 12 hours before the deadline for donating and asked if I could move the donation over to GoFundMe so that “we can see the funds”.  Dude.  This thing has been going on for days and it’s almost done and NOW you want to make a suggestion?  Was he questioning my integrity?  Did he think I was going to take money from Ms. Emmet?  Who even was this guy?  Mind you, it was late and this likely innocent comment just dredged up all the worry I was trying to repress.  I was keeping a log of all the donations and making a record of the kind donator.  I was already planning to post the totals and the “receipts” for anyone interested, but this just stirred me up.  

But I’m REALLY good at repressing things so after I packed all that worry down a little more, I went to bed and slept like a baby.

On my Wednesday morning run, it was time for a plan.  I spent my three miles working through the possibilities.  Is cash better?  What about Visa gift cards?  Where do you get them?  I had recently seen some in a store but the highest amount was listed as $200 and there were activation fees.  If I had to buy lots of them, that would eat up so much money in fees.  By the end of my run it was decided that I’d find the highest Visa gift card amount possible and get two.  Then I’d try to get the rest in cash.  I still had no idea where I’d get the cash but the run was done.  Time to repress and get to school.

On the way to school I stopped at the local Walmart and did some searching.  I found Visa gift cards that went to $500.  Perfect.  I grabbed two and tried to scan the fine print.  The activation fees were low so for two cards it was only going to be $10 in fees.  I would pay the fees out of pocket so that all the donated money went to Ms. Emmet.  

As I walked to the register, the worries bubbled to the surface.  How was I paying for this?  Venmo money isn’t really real until it transfers.  The transfer still had a day or so to complete.  Did I have $1,000?  I remembered I had a credit card and decided that was the way to go.  I swiped the credit card and it was refused.  Bummer.  I tried again.  Same thing.  What I didn’t know is that my card is smarter than me and when it was swiped it triggered all the super high tech bank things about potential fraud.  Instead of texting me, the bank texted my wife to see if she was trying to make a purchase.  This didn’t help me standing at the register.  Now I was back to using the debit card.  I hoped it would work.  Sweat built up on my bald head as I waited what felt like years to see the word “approved”.

I counted up the cash donations and figured out how much I was going to have to cover from my account in cash and developed a plan to get that cash.  I picked up a greeting card to let Ms. Emmet know how many people took the time to help her and how much she was loved.  I decided to list the names of all the people who donated inside the card so Ms. Emmet could see the large number of people who cared about her.  I did not list any donation amounts so as to protect everyone’s privacy.  I miraculously gathered enough cash and then placed the cash and the two Visa gift cards inside a plastic bag.  I also placed the receipt for the Visa gift cards in the bag in case Ms. Emmet needed it for any reason.  This bag was placed inside the envelope with the card.  I was feeling more confident about this plan and yet somehow even more worried and anxious.  

The last thing I wanted to do was to embarrass Ms. Emmet.  I wanted her to feel loved and appreciated but I know she’s not one to seek a spotlight.  I made the decision to not invite anyone to go with me to give Ms. Emmet the donations.  I planned to go to Starbucks before the rush so I could talk with Ms. Emmet without disrupting business.  A good plan but how was this really going to go?  Would she cry?  I don’t deal well with crying.  Would she be angry for any reason?  Was I overlooking something by only seeing it from my perspective?  And, oh my goodness, what if I managed to lose all this money?  Georgie suggested that that I also take flowers with the money so I drove into town and grabbed some flowers and arranged them in a glass jar.  I was ready but I was worried.  

Thursday morning I arrived on time with the flowers and the envelope and felt relieved when I made it to my office.  I walked to Starbucks and found Ms. Emmet working hard at cleaning behind the counter.  She shouted a “good morning” to me and I motioned for her to come over to the pick up area.  I gave her the flowers and then gave her the Cliff’s Notes version of what was going on.  I told her that some students and I wanted to do something for her to help out and that we told a few friends and that turned into a lot of people from school and beyond who wanted to help out because they knew how wonderful she was.  I told her that so many people loved her.  Then I handed her the envelope and told her there was a little over $2,000 in it.  

Ms. Emmet put her hands on the counter, shouted “OH!” and then dropped her head to the counter as well.  I instantly knew she was going to cry and I freaked out.  She said “thank you” so many times.  She also said that y’all were “angels” and that she had so many bills and that she didn’t know how she was going to pay them.  She said this was such a blessing and that she needed it so much.  She said that everyone was so nice to her and then she said “thank you” several more times.  I told her again that so many people loved her and that I had listed their names in the card.  I hugged her, told her I loved her and then I got in line to order my coffee.  

Ms. Emmet was over the moon.  She continued to say how grateful she was and what a blessing this was to her.  She asked me to thank everyone who helped.  So y’all, Ms. Emmet says “thank you”.  

I also want to thank you.  As I said, I thought we’d get about 200 bucks.  Y’all did this.  You responded to the call and gave.  You reposted the request and got it to a larger audience.  You talked about it and told friends.  They reposted it and you all gave so generously.  You took a nice idea and you turned it into something that is a true help to someone we all love.  Thank you.

Was it worth the stress and worry?  Absolutely.  I’d do it again.

If you care about the details and numbers, here they are:

74 people donated through Venmo and by giving cash.  Some have never met Ms. Emmet.  Some were current students.  Some were former students.  Some were faculty and staff, both current and former.  Some were parents of students who had heard about the nice lady from Starbucks.  One was an anonymous $20 slipped under my office door.  Some gave a few dollars and some gave hundreds.  Every single donation was important.  We gave Ms. Emmet two $500 Visa gift cards.  The activation fees were not paid from donated money.  Every single penny given to Ms. Emmet is now in her possession.  We gave Ms. Emmet $1,408.00 in cash.  That’s a total of $2,408.00 donated to Ms. Emmet.  Oh, we also gave her a bouquet of flowers and a nice card.  Everything is documented and everything was triple checked.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.

captain tom

I'm pretty sure Tom Stanley arrived at Winthrop University around the same time I did.  I may be off by a year or so, but when I landed as a freshman in Fall 1990, I feel like Tom was pretty new to the scene.  To a new college student in the 90s, professors were almost deity.  We regarded our professors with such respect and awe in those days.  They certainly carried themselves with dignity and I always remember passing Tom in the hallway of the art building and he would be wearing a blazer and nice pants looking like a real professor.  

Tom was the gallery guy, probably officially the Gallery Director or Curator or something, but we just referred to him as the gallery guy.  He was responsible for bringing all sorts of great exhibits and artists to the Winthrop University Galleries during my four years of undergrad.  Tom didn't talk a lot, but he seemed very friendly.  He often seemed expressionless until spoken to at which point he'd give you the warmest smile and then he'd say something funny.  It was like he was alone in his head until you summoned him.  I liked him immediately and always looked for an opportunity to interact with him but I never got to have him as a professor.  

Tom's office was located on the busy first floor hallway and for three years I had to walk past it when I arrived and departed the art building.  Some nights you'd hear jazz coming from the open door and you'd get to glance in respectfully as you passed.  He had one of those old desktop Apple computers with the transparent casing.  He always seemed to be working on a painting if he wasn't behind that computer.  During my last year I mostly remember him expanding his office into the hallway at night and even hanging some of his works in progress on the wall beside the stairwell.  (I am now old and I may be mis-remembering the timing of this move into the hallway.  It is possible that this expansion into the hallway and the Apple computer may have been during my return to Winthrop for grad school around the year 2000.)  He was an exceptional example of a professor as a working artist.

On a day trip to Asheville in the early 1990s I saw some of Tom's work in a cool little contemporary art gallery downtown.  I remember how cool it was to see his work out in the wild.  

While I never got to be in one of Tom's classes, I did get to hear him speak a good bit.  He was a guest speaker for our Art Education class a few times and as the gallery guy, we usually got a short blip from him at a reception or an artist talk.  He was the coolest, you could just tell.

In the spring of 1999 I ventured back to Winthrop for grad school and Tom was still the gallery guy.  By then he was a pillar of Winthrop and his influence was evident everywhere.  Almost immediately I accidentally dove into the world of public sculpture which was a new thing on campus and Tom was instrumental in pushing that initiative forward.  Tom either got or gave permission for me to do all sorts of exhibits on campus.  One of those is still there, 5 really tall steel chairs installed permanently on the front campus beside the president's house.  So if you're familiar with that one, Tom did that for me.  

I still didn't get to have Tom as a teacher in grad school but when it was time for me to choose my MFA committee, I made sure he was on it.  It was during one of these critiques that Tom spoke to me after the official critique and told me there was something exciting about my work and that he saw it was "honest" and "genuine".  This was such a boost at the time as I was struggling to find my way and still today these are words I conjure as I begin a new work.  

Sometime around my final year of MFA, Tom took over as chair of the art department.  I was lucky to be teaching freshman studio classes and for the next 8 years Tom always made sure there was a class or two for me to teach each semester.  He even let me teach a grad level class.

And then...

When I found out there was a full time job at Lander, Tom put in the best word for me and helped get me the job.  You can see why I would still have such profound respect and love for a guy like that.

In the years since, Tom retired from the academic world and he and his wife Kathe have jumped into a full life after retirement.  They've traveled extensively, visited family and even relocated to Durham, NC where Tom has set up a new studio and has started producing a new body of work.

Kathe and Tom Stanley

In the summer of 2021, Tom was packing up years of paintings in preparation for his relocation and he contacted Lander about the possibility of donating some of his artwork.  My then department chair and colleague, Sandy Singletary, also knew Tom from Winthrop where she worked closely with him as a graduate assistant.  We were thrilled to be offered some of Tom's work and we enthusiastically accepted.  

I borrowed my brother's covered trailer on a humid June day and drove to Tom and Kathe's house in Rock Hill.  Tom and I loaded up 12 paintings that made up 3 different series of work.  

Tom just after he bumped his head pretty hard on the trailer entrance.

Tom and me after we BOTH bumped our heads pretty hard on the trailer entrance.  

I got to catch up with Tom and Kathe for a few minutes before driving back to Laurens and temporarily storing the paintings in my basement.  I started the process of letting people at Lander know we had basically just won the art lottery.  We started plotting and planning how we would get these paintings displayed in prominent locations around campus.

A few months later Tom was being featured at The George Gallery in Charleston, SC and I was able to time one of my gallery visits with his opening reception.

Tom and me at his reception at The George Gallery, November 2021

The wheels of academia move slowly but after about a year and an office renovation for me, Tom's paintings started to find permanent locations around campus with much help from jon holloway, our very own gallery guy.  These were the first to go up in the Jackson Library entrance.

Blue Rondo a la Turk #1-4.  All 36"x45.5" acrylic on wood panel

This series went up in an awesome spot in the stairwell just across from the Lander Art Gallery.

Kathe's Waltz, Pick Up Sticks, Strange Meadowlark and Three To Get Ready.  All 48"x78" acrylic on canvas stretched over wood panel.

Both of these series were created during 2009 and were inspired by the album Time Out by the Dave Brubeck Quartet.

And finally, these guys went up in the hallway just down from my office, a hallway we had repainted and had the light fixtures updated to enhance the space for the work.

These last ones are so stark and symbolic and I love them.  I'm so glad they ended up so close to me at Lander.  

As of the typing of this post, we are preparing to honor Tom at his solo exhibition reception in the Lander Art Gallery.  Thursday, January 19 is the reception and as it happens, it's also Tom's birthday.  I am thrilled that we can honor Tom and thank him for his generosity in this way.

I am so grateful to know Tom and Kathe and it's crazy to think about how impactful Tom has been on my career as an artist and a teacher.  I hope that you have a person like Tom in your life.

 

another year

Snuggled up between Christmas Day and New Years Day is the weirdest time of year.  I'm lucky to have a job that doesn't force me back to work on Dec. 26 so these days are at my disposal (mostly).  I get up without an alarm, don't worry about what day of the week it is and spend my days drawing, sculpting or doing fun things with the family.  People joke that no one knows what day it is and that we throw routine out the window during this time but I usually have a good idea of what day it is and while my routine is slower paced, I still go through a list of tasks each day.  There's also that nagging darkness and often a cold snap that forces us to turn even more inward than usual.  I love Christmas and am pretty neutral about New Years so it's usually a good time of year for me.  Still, there's the desire to look back on the year and to plan for the new one that always gets me a bit nostalgic.  

Age and busyness has given me a pretty short memory.  I can tell you what the lady's eyebrows looked like at the drive through window in June but I have a hard time remembering what I did last week.  Realizing this weakness in memory, I know it is a good idea for me to look back over the year to have that memory refreshed, especially about the good things.  It's easy to remember those bad things, right?  I'm not going to forget my Aunt LJ's last weeks but I should be careful to not let that bad thing flavor my memory of the entire year.  

Lucky for me we all carry a camera with us every moment of every day.  Memories being rustled up is as easy as opening the photos app on my computer.  I did a little scrolling through that yesterday and I've recovered some memories I'd like to place here for future reference.  You're welcome to read through them as well.  For the sake of organization, I've broken the year down into a few categories.  

Family:

We started the year off right with an impromptu trip to Atlanta.  G had to work but the kids and I were off and we wanted to see the KAWS Prints Exhibit at the High Museum so we took off on the morning of the second day of the year and had a fun little trip.

We got a decent snow and we piled on our mismatched Southern winter layers and stayed outside until we were numb.

We took a couple of vacations to the coast and just like everyone else, we stopped by Buc-ees on the way.  What a strange place.

We got to see mom at least a couple of times each month which I realize is a luxury not everyone has.  My mom is awesome.

And when the kids and I got out of school and G had some days off too, we all got to spend more time in the same room watching our list of must-see Christmas movies.

Friends:

It was a rocky year for my friend Colleen but I am grateful that she was living right on the edge of campus this year.  She couldn't get out much but she did make a couple of visits and we all got to see the famous pooch Poppy a lot.  

Violet and I got to see Willie Nelson in one of only 2 concerts I went to this year.  We had the wonderful surprise of finding jon, Lori and jon's mom as we walked in.  jon was a constant friend this year and added so much to my life.  We'll probably talk about him again soon.

When I get overwhelmed with work, I forget to plan them but I really enjoyed my "Coffee With McAbee" episodes this year.  I got to talk with so many great humans this year but I've chosen to share the image from my visit with Cessquatch (Brandy).  Everything about this one was story-worthy and it was so great to pick up with the last laugh we had and keep it going for a couple of hours.  She's a good one.

She's actually one of many good ones I'm grateful to know well.  Anne, Katertot, Sean and Whisk (not pictured here) are all part of that great group of students I had during my first four years at Lander.  In a way we grew up together.  I got to travel with Anne, Katertot and Sean so you'll see them again but I've opted to put this one under "friends" instead of "travel" because with the adoption of Katherine on our trip, we had a core travel group who spent as much time laughing as we did adventuring.  These friends made the trip so much fun.

And no talk about friends would be complete without mentioning Jana and Dan.  They are so filled with kindness and love and I'm so happy to call them friends.  Dan helped me install a sculpture in the spring just as a favor.  He invited me to be a part of his music festival.  Jana has tied a jet engine onto my art career and has recommended me to just about everyone she knows.  They are amazing friends.  And they have amazing kids...the super-sweet and creative Forest who let me draw on her walls and the hardcore parkour Oscar who is certainly made of of 50% rubber and 50% fearlessness.

Art:

It was a great art year for me.  This sculpture got accepted into an international juried exhibit of public art and then won an Honorable Mention Award.  It's still in the Riverfront Park in North Charleston if you want to go say hello.

I got to do another solo exhibit of "Even When It's Dark" at Francis Marion University this summer.  It was so much fun to do and it got to be up for 3 months.  I was invited back in the fall to do an artist talk and a little workshop too.  Very fun.

The Edisto Blackwater Boogie was the music festival that Dan created and invited me to be a part of this year.  I had no idea how that was going to go and it was very intimidating, but it turned out great.  I made four drawings to raise money for charities and then got a drawing commission from someone who saw me there.  Also very fun.

Before I left for Europe, jon texted me and said he was going to get his van painted this year and he wondered if I would be interested in drawing on it first.  Of course I was interested and after my trip I made that van into a mobile art unit at the BBQ Festival.  It was so much fun.  jon was also kind enough to come in the fall and do some photos for us and he drove the van!

Students:

My students are a constant source of entertainment.  There were funny moments like this one with Kyle and Maggie in the studio.

And moments like this when we did a photoshoot on the steps of the State House (featuring Kennedy and Hannah) on a field trip.

There were also several moments like this when my people show exactly what they really are.  We had several Ninjas of Kindness events on campus this year and this group turned out so many times to help spread joy to strangers.  

We brought back Slogging this semester and while the turnout was rather light, we did have some fun times being active outside.  We got a few good miles in this semester.

I have to mention Victor.  I got to help Victor a lot with his dinosaur sculptures, especially last minute when the big one decided to almost die.  Victor never let things get boring and we miss him for that.

And these three.  The Fun Girls.  I got to hang out with these three for all four of their college years and they were almost always doing something fun.  They found a way to have a good time wherever they were.  They graduated with Victor and I miss them too.

Travel:

I got to go to Barcelona and Venice this summer with school.  I had zero responsibilities and that made the trip so enjoyable for me.  There was a beach!

There was so much art.  The Sagrada Familia by Gaudí was a transformative experience.  

There was much fun to be had.  We ate all the foods and drank all the drinks.  We followed a stranger into a basement and lived to tell the story.  I think I did a Tik Tok dance with Jessica.  Good times.

Venice was magical.

Sean was a great roommate and the whole crew was a great travel crew.  We had such a great time.

Running:

Don't roll your eyes, running is a huge part of my life.  I ran every day this past year and have been lucky to continue my runstreak to about 4 1/2 years now.  One of the notable runs was in subfreezing temps during the snow.

I ran the Greenville Half Marathon and finished in 1:43 and I'm very proud of that time.  See all those guys behind me?  I beat them.  

I love running on vacation.  It's a great way to explore and see things that are off the beaten path.  I got to run in Barcelona and Venice and I loved every mile.  Turns out sometimes there are very high crackheads off the beaten path and they're way faster than you'd expect.

I love running with my kids.  Blue opted to switch to the Field events this year and he's been throwing heavy things instead of running so now Violet has to suffer alone.  This year she really made a huge jump in her running and started to enjoy it.  I know, right?  It was amazing.  We did runs just for fun and even ran some longer distances just because she asked.

And just a couple of weeks ago, without even training, she ran her fastest 5K ever and won her age group.  I ran my fastest 5K in a long time but didn't get a trophy because there were 4 really fast old dudes.  Ugh.  But Violet getting first place was more than enough to make me happy.

Of course there were other things that happened that were wonderful and great, they just didn't fit neatly into a category.  I met really cool people, saw really great art, had moving conversations, gave a eulogy, caught myself on fire a few times, played some music, made some art I'm really proud of, the family stayed healthy, and I laughed a lot.  It was a very good year for me.

I hope it was a good one for you too.  Take some time and remember.

the funk, and not the good kind

It feels like a good time of year to be really vulnerable and honest.  Maybe it's the short, dark days, the desire for annual reflection, or maybe it's the ridiculous cloud cover we've had in our normally sunny spot, but my mind has been drifting towards the funk lately.  Specifically the art funk.

I've learned a little about perception this year.  I have some wonderful friends who treat me like a mini-celebrity and I've noticed that the friends they introduce to me also treat me that way.  In an unrelated weird moment this year, a grown adult person stood in front of me and said that they were having a "fan-girl" moment about meeting me in real life.  What the actual heck?  

Over my years of teaching I've almost gotten used to students who say they were scared to take my class or that they were intimidated by me.  I remember being intimidated by my professors before I knew them but honestly I still chalk most of my students' misguided fears up to the fear of power tools and welding rather than of me.  Still, when I was interviewed for a student-run magazine this semester, the very first question was about me being intimidating and it was asked by a student who had taken my class at least twice.  Again, what the heck?  

Outside perception is often (always) erroneous.  We say this like we know it to be true and then we flick through Instagram and marvel at how wonderful some stranger's life seems.  I suppose this could happen with me if you looked at my Instagram and really, that's mostly how we "know" people these days, right?  It's definitely a highlight reel of my life.  I looked.  There are lots of drawings and sculptures that I'm proud of.  There are images of fun and cool things I got to do.  There are images of my family.  My dogs.  Lots of running stuff.  

Do you know what you don't see on my Instagram?  You don't see the pep talks I have to give to myself before walking into a social event.  You don't see the immature fit of rage when it's the last straw of the day.  You don't see the lack of confidence I can have in myself.  You don't see the sinking feeling of hearing a student is talking trash about you.  You don't see the moments of extreme frustration when you wonder if anything you do is worthwhile.  Even though you don't see them, they're all there.

Recently I had a couple of days I can't really explain.  I woke up, ran, had coffee and watched as a terrible mood settled over me.  I felt zero confidence.  I think I was up to about 9 art rejections in a row at that time.  I thought about my calendar and realized I currently have no exhibits scheduled.  Who knows if I'll even be able to draw or sculpt anything good ever again?  The semester was ending in a chaotic roar of critiques and trying to help students and I tried to check my course evaluations only to find that so few of my students actually did them that there were no results to view.  I taught 11 or 12 courses this semester.  Not one of them had an evaluation for me to view.  Over the last couple of months I watched my always awesome, always healthy favorite aunt wither away and die.  On this particular day I forgot for a millisecond that she was dead and thought that I would see her at the Christmas party.

There was no Instagram post to document this.  I sometimes forget that I spend a lot of time in my head.  The continuous narrative in there isn't audible to other humans.  What I feel and what I really think - other people don't get that unless I tell them.  They just see the running photo and think "That crazy McAbee is out running in the cold again".  They don't see the funk that's just as fast as me.

The gap between perception and reality is Grand Canyon-ish in size.  That's something we could all stand to remind ourselves of on a regular basis.  

Speaking of reminders, I did get out from under the funk.  The cool art writer Austin Kleon recommends that artists keep a computer folder of successes and good things so that when they have a funky day, they can open that folder and be reminded that they are not crap.  I pass this advice along to my students each year because it's more than just a good way to get out from under the art funk.  The way we talk to ourselves is important and if you ever find yourself saying negative things to yourself, I suggest you stop that nonsense immediately.  C.S. Lewis wrote that we need to "constantly be reminded of what we believe".  That's what self talk is.  We are constantly reminding ourselves who we are and what we believe is true.  Good or bad.

If I'm looking at 9 fresh rejections and wondering if I'm irrelevant, I'm defeated before I even start.  But I can go to a file on a computer and see that I made a lot of stuff this year.  I was in a lot of shows.  I helped a lot of people.  I made people smile.  Then I can remember that what I do is important.  I am reminded that this is the truth.  This is who I am.

And today I got off my butt and finished a new sculpture.  Maybe those 9 people didn't like my art but I can keep making more and increase my chances statistically, right?  (I'm seriously asking, I got a mercy D in Statistics.)

Y'all be good to yourselves please.  We're all out here counting on each other.

laura jean

If there’s any sort of internet in Heaven, Laura Jean will be expecting me to write something about her now.  She represented about half of my readers on my blog and she always made comments to me about things she read here.  Hey Laura Jean!

Laura Jean was my aunt but I’ve never been happy with just that as a descriptor.  Every time I’ve ever had to try to describe Laura Jean to a new person in my life, I’ve always said, “but not like your aunt”.  Laura Jean was my dad’s older sister, born in the 1930s and as a result of the times, she became a leader and protector for her younger sister and three younger brothers.  She lived next door to my family and since she lived alone from the time her mother died in the 1970s, she was more or less a part of our immediate family.  Sunday lunches, holiday gatherings, birthdays…Laura Jean was invited to them all.  In addition to that, I had this job for a while that took me past her house in the afternoons and I got to spend several afternoons each week hanging out with her.  So yes, Laura Jean was my aunt but she was also my neighbor, my third parent, and she was my friend.

When I was little, Laura Jean’s house was just an extension of my house.  There was a very worn trail through the grass between our houses and I’m sure I walked that path at least once a day.  I’m not a person who remembers a lot from being very young, but I do have a vivid memory of drawing on notebook paper on an end table in Laura Jean’s house when I was tiny.  My first drawing memory.  Her open carport was a regular place to play when I was younger and a regular stop on our bike adventures when I was older.  There was always a refrigerator in the utility room or in the carport and she kept it stocked with soft drinks and popsicles so she could offer us treats.  Actually, most of the cousins or friends with me at the moment would enjoy a fresh cut watermelon she would crack open for us on a hot summer day.  I hate watermelon so she’d get me a popsicle.  

She worked second shift at Spartanburg General Hospital (now Spartanburg Regional Medical Center) where she worked in the Emergency Room.  She was the head nurse and though I know she would object to such language, she was the epitome of a badass.  We always heard her friends tell us stories about how some crazy, drunk person came into the ER wanting to fight everyone and she would walk over and grab the crazy person by the arm and drag them out of the hospital like a rag doll.  She was a fierce leader and by all accounts, a wonderful boss.  She made lifelong friends in the ER among nurses and doctors.  

I was embarrassingly older when I realized everyone in the world didn’t call her Laura Jean.  I kept hearing people refer to “Laura” and I didn’t understand why they didn’t use her whole name.  Turns out only her family called her Laura Jean, spoken in one breath with no pause so that it sounds like “Larjean” if you’re from South Carolina.  

She loved dogs and ALWAYS had a dog until the final years of her life.  When I was little it was two big Dobermans that she kept in the fence behind her house.  She would come home from work around 11:30 pm, unlock her door, and send “Lady” inside to inspect the house.  Once it was all clear, she’d feed both dogs and go to bed.  I went with her to pick out a few dogs in my life and I got to watch those dogs get absolutely spoiled with treats.  Laura Jean treated dogs as well as she treated people and she loved to shower them both with treats.  One of those happy dogs had a belly that almost dragged the ground because of those treats.  

Laura Jean loved to shop, especially for groceries and oh my goodness she loved her a coupon.  One of her greatest quirks was that she would get a coupon for something or see something on sale, something that she had zero interest in, but if it was a really good deal, she would buy it.  If she had 40 of them already in her pantry, she would buy 5 more to get 5 free.  The thing was, she never bought this stuff for herself.  She was always thinking of who she could give these great deals to.  She was always thinking of who might need them.  She was always thinking of others.  When I went to college, Laura Jean would send me a large paper grocery bag filled with groceries every single Sunday when I drove back to school.  She would also send things like toasters, plates, bowls, cleaning supplies, and whatever else she thought I could use.  

She did the same for everyone she knew.  She grew tomatoes, cucumbers, and squash and I’m sure she ate one or two but mostly she grew them to give them away.  She was constantly taking a bag of produce to her friends.  From the many apple trees between our houses, she provided apples to the majority of Spartanburg county.  

Her generosity went far beyond produce.  She was fond of baking banana bread and zucchini bread.  (If zucchini bread sounds gross to you, give it a try.  I liked it long before I started eating green things.)  She would bake several loaves when she had things in season and she’d freeze them.  When people would come to visit or when she would go see an old friend, she always provided a loaf of bread as a gift.  It was very tough to leave her house empty handed.  And Laura Jean was also very generous with money.  She would loan large sums of money to her family and it was common for her to wait a while and then tell them to not worry about ever paying her back.  Other times she would just slip family members a check as a gift during hard times.  She loved to ask me to come “work” for her, which meant cleaning out her gutters or pruning some things with a chainsaw for a couple of hours.  She did this basically just so she could give me money without me fussing about it.  When she decided to give her car to someone several years ago, she just did it and didn’t care what people thought about it.  She knew she couldn’t give everyone a car and she knew people might think it was unfair but she knew she could give a car to this person, so she did.  Laura Jean did what she wanted.  Usually what she wanted was to be the most generous person anyone knew.

About 25 years ago Laura Jean was diagnosed with breast cancer.  It was pretty bad and she needed a double mastectomy, lots of chemotherapy, and radiation treatment.  She lost all of her hair and bought a wig.  She got fake breasts that she would wear if she was going out of the house and after a very tough year or so, her hair grew back and she was back to her old tricks again.  She was so tough and it was so impressive how she fought through such a terrible sickness.  The cancer would come back periodically and each time Laura Jean would beat it down.  Each time it came back in a different location and I remember talking with her one day in her living room when she explained that no matter where it was located, it would still be considered breast cancer.  She told me that a patient is never really “cancer free” after having cancer the first time.  She said her cancer doctor told her that she would keep having new bouts with cancer and that eventually it would kill her.  This is how Laura Jean talked.  Very straight-forward and very honest.  More and more as she grew older, if she thought it, she said it.

“It looks like you’ve put on some weight” was one of my favorite ones to hear at family gatherings.  I would bust out laughing and hope the person she was talking to didn’t see me.  If she thought your kid was weird or you were making bad choices, guess what?  She would tell you.  She had no filter and I loved that about her.  I talked to her with the same honesty and she appreciated that.  I told her she had “old people disease”.  She asked what that meant and I told her that it meant that she said everything she thought.  She laughed.  

Laura Jean always looked much younger than she was.  While she was the oldest in the McAbee family, she never looked it.  If you ever saw her going to eat lunch with her friends, you’d think she was far younger than the other ladies in the group.  Then you’d find out they were classmates in nursing school.  Even with cancer, she seemed healthier than most of her friends and as she moved into her 80s, she outlived most of them.  

Her sense of humor was pretty great and that was one of my favorite things about her.  We would sit and laugh most of the time we were together.  While we discussed some major things and some heavy things, we would always find a way to make light of tough situations.  She found humor in her cancer treatments and told me funny stories about going to funerals.  She loved a funeral.  I think she started planning her own funeral about 20 years ago.  She would go to the funeral of a friend and come home with ideas of what she wanted and didn’t want for her funeral.  I hate funerals and I don’t go to them.  She would always tell me that I should go and I would always make fun of her for going to so many.  Each time she traded for a new car over the last decade she would tell me that this might be her last new car.  Each time she got a new photo taken she would tell me she was having obituary photos taken.  She was laughing, but she was serious too.  When her beloved little dog Shugah died a couple of years ago, she told me she wasn’t going to get another dog because she didn’t want to die and leave a dog for someone to have to take in.  When she started having mystery pains in her chest about a year ago she told me that her cancer was back and that she wasn’t going to do any treatments.  She said she was tired.  She said it was just her time.  Again, always direct and honest.  She said whatever she thought.

She would have told you that she was not a tech-savvy person, but for an 86 year old, she navigated the iPhone, iPad, her laptop, Facebook, and Instagram very well.  She might lose an app icon or forget how to unsilence her phone every once in a while, but she was pretty good otherwise.  She checked Facebook and Instagram very regularly and if I didn’t post anything on Instagram for a day, she would text me to check in.  She was perhaps the most dedicated liker of my butt drawings each Monday.  She may have also been the most regular submitter of butt photos which I still think is hilarious.  For an old-fashioned Southern Baptist lady, she seemed to find more than her share of funny butt photos online.  It always made my day when she would send me one.  Even when her health declined rapidly over the last month, she managed to send me two new ones.  

Because of my antics on Instagram during quarantine, she would also make fun of me for dressing up in female roles for my Art Remix photos.  She loved to take a verbal shot at me at a Sunday lunch and it was always pretty funny.  Last Christmas she gave me a mysterious gift to unwrap in front of everyone.  After tearing off the paper I opened a special case that held her two fake breasts that she used to wear after surgery.  There was a note that indicated these may come in handy for me since I dressed as a woman so often.  Do I have these gifts and this note in the special case in a special place in my studio?  You know I do and you know I will treasure them for many years.  

Laura Jean loved her people.  She was the most kind and the most generous.  Lucky was the person who knew her and luckier was the person who was loved by her.  Luckier still was me, her nephew, her neighbor, and her friend.