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He Was Beautiful by Ron Moore

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My name is Anna; I’m just a Baltimore girl who likes to draw. You know my neighborhood the one with the pearl onion steeples on top of the church. East Baltimore has changed but you’d never know it sitting here at Uncle Hank’s party. I’m named after two strong Ukrainian women; my great grandmother Anna and Maya Deren. If my name is my destiny then I have a lot to live up to.

Uncle Hank is 58 today. I faithfully attend family functions when my schedule allows. I believe our ancestor spirits honor us when we honor the elder spirits that walk among us. Lately all anybody wants to talk about with me is my job. Not my art, not even my love life but my job.

I’m a security screener at the airport. Now they call us Transportation Security Officers. Like they say, if they can’t treat you right or give you a raise they’ll upgrade your title. Like we don’t know what they’re doing. Conversations about being a screener range from ‘the grossest or most embarrassing thing you ever found searching a bag’, to ‘the most exciting story about a gun or weapon’, to grousing about profiling. It’s inescapable. So I politely talk about my job and try to move on to other topics. It rarely works.

A few days ago I was working the checkpoint on D Pier; a late flight. I’m on the night shift so we mostly guard the exit lanes and test the equipment until the early morning shift comes in at 3:30 then we screen early arriving passengers until we go home at 5:30.

I was working the mag or walk thru; I guess the technical term is magnetometer. There’s a lot more to it than just listening for the beep, beep, beep. You’ve got to give passengers the once over to see if anything needs to come off or if they’ve forgotten the set of keys on their hip. Hips are another issue, lots of fake ones, but that story’s for another day.

A young man approached with an older woman. She was his mother and needed to talk to me about him before he walked through. Sometimes folks have special issues or pacemakers and we need to screen them with that in mind. He looked like a ghost. Hair sprouting out of his bandage covered head; arm in a cast and he was wearing a bloodstained t-shirt.

The night before a single car collision cost the life of a young man on I-95. They were two young guys traveling north from Tennessee when something went horribly wrong just outside the city. The young man in front of me was the driver; his friend was dead. His mother had flown up to rescue her son. They were on the last flight out of town and they were dazed.

He had a look in his eye like what they call the ‘thousand yard stare’ you hear about from war veterans. He’s not looking at you, he’s not looking through you, he just looks beyond for something he can’t see.

‘Male assist’ I call out and Ed responds. Holding my hand out one way to prevent anyone from sneaking through I explain the situation to Ed and he brings the young man through to gently get him through this way station and on his flight home to an uncertain and troubled future.

You always hear about the ‘little old lady’ who gets screened. She can’t be a terrorist but the fact is old people beep. They’ve got more hardware inside them than Home Depot and the process applies to everyone. But like this young man, we want to be the human face of the experience and be professional, courteous and kind.

‘I can’t believe it” he said, ‘A whole weekend away’. The car seemed to take on a life of its own as the two young men drove toward a future with them in the driver’s seat. They were young adults now, with adult dreams and what felt like adult responsibilities. But this weekend was about speed and getting to the college to see their girls

All he remembers is the laughter then the darkness. The car blew a tire and the young driver overcompensated sending them careening into the void. His friend didn’t survive; he will never be the same.

When tragedy strikes we become sleuths. We reconstruct events to establish the belief that it should have been us, it could have been us, it was our fault or we caused their death somehow. Each year is a burden as one carries the memory of a life cut short with them.  The days pass into weeks, the weeks years until the memory fades and details dim.

And here at the party, I spot the ‘boys’ (mom still calls her little brothers ‘the boys’ even with the AARP cards in their wallets). They are staring into space after a silent toast. No words can be spoken; there’s nothing to say. Some doors can’t be opened. They know what’s on the other side they’re just not sure who’s crossing the threshold next.

Uncle Hank never talked about Tommy, but I remember once when I was a child hearing him speak of him saying ‘He was beautiful’. Looking through old yearbooks brought the sight of this lost friend into view.  Like a blackout curtain with a pin prick. The curtain does its job; the room is dark and the pin prick is incidental. But you can’t help staring at it.

Hank carried around the burden of Tommy’s death all his life. What else could he do? Each birthday the boys toast Tommy and appreciate another year together. The pain never completely goes away but like that pin prick it appears at unexpected times.

Later that night I started to create a sketch entitled ‘He Was Beautiful’, and I think of that young man at the mag. Hank knows what he feels and what he faces. All I could do is get him through the screening process and on his way. All I can do for Hank is make sure to remember his birthday each year.

We spend maybe thirty seconds with people in good times and bad. Some like that young man — we never forget. That face, that stare haunts me. I’m glad I’m alive but I fear the day tragedy strikes near me, maybe because of me. Nothing prepares you for that journey. You can only hope that those who must guide you through the process are courteous and kind.

Ron Moore is a native of the DC area who currently resides in Statesville, NC. He served as a TSA Officer at BWI Thurgood Marshall International Airport for six years and was the founding president of The American Federation of Government Employee Local 1, the national union representing TSA Officers. He is a freelance writer, and the author of Washington Cats, a collection of poetry, and is writing a book about the early days of the TSA.

Bird Watching by Sherill Anne Gross

I am a cut paper artist. My work is made using only paper, glue, and patience.

Technically I create collages, but I don’t think collage is the right word to describe what I do. I prefer to say that I create cut paper illustrations.

Being a cut paper artist puts me in an awkward place with my contemporaries. This is both a blessing and a curse. A curse because it makes it difficult to categorize what I do and a blessing because the uncommon way I work with paper makes my art unique. I create works that are modern in subject, but traditional in format and medium.

"Darla" by Sherill Anne Gross; image courtesy the artist.
“Darla” by Sherill Anne Gross; image courtesy the artist.

While it may be true for most art, I find my artwork (especially) is appreciated more in person, when the audience can see the cutting details, and the diverse qualities of the paper. While I’m very careful scanning my works so I get good reproductions, the depth of the digital impression can not compare to the hand cut originals.

I’m currently re-evaluating what I want to do (when I grow up). I had originally wanted to be an illustrator and to work primarily on books. I attempted to get illustration jobs, but did not get much traction so that idea went on the back burner. I recently did a workshop with faculty and students in the MFA Illustration program at the Maryland Institute College of Art (MICA) and their energy has made me revisit my earlier aspirations.

One major concern I’m having is with the health of my hand. I’ve had constant hand pain for about 20 years. Doctors wrote me off and told me I was too young to have any real problems. My hand at times locks up, either into a fist or with all my fingers straight out. Five years ago I was in more pain than I could handle, so I pushed a doctor to do more. After tests, he recommended exploratory surgery and we found something. It turns out I have a genetic defect where I have a second thumb muscle in my right hand. This gives me the ability to tighten jars/screws/ bottles/etc with super human strength (in all seriousness, I am not allowed to close 2 liter bottles in my house). The first and second surgeries relieved most of my pain, but in the past few months the pain is starting to resurface, and I am uncertain how it will play out. I hope I do not need more surgery and that the pain is temporary – but we’ll see.

"Gouldian Finch" by Sherill Anne Gross; image courtesy the artist.
“Gouldian Finch” by Sherill Anne Gross; image courtesy the artist.

I will keep creating work until my hand no longer works, and I’m currently trying to finish new works for an upcoming show. My plan is for the show, “Bird Watching”, to be on exhibit at some point in 2015. “Bird Watching” will be a combination of fanciful photo-realistic cut paper birds and 1950’s/1960’s pinups (or ”byrds”). Both of these subjects make me happy when I start a new work. I’ve had so many back-to-back shows in the past that it’s very nice to be working without the stress of an imminent deadline looming over me. I have a handful of both themes already done – but I have many more to create before I am ready. Even though I am on my 8th bird I still get giddy when I finish a new one. This makes me laugh since I am slightly afraid of birds in the wild – I was pooped on when I was a little girl and have never quite gotten over it.

Sherill-Anne-GrossSherill Anne Gross was born and raised in central Florida and always had a flair for art and design. While the medium has changed throughout the years from crayons to computer and now to paper, the creativity has never waned. While in college at Florida State, Sherill focused on graphic design but found printmaking to be one of her favorite ways to create art while getting her hands dirty. This work with printmaking helped refine Sherill’s style. In 2000, she received a BFA in Studio Art. It took several years before her work began to resemble Sherill’s current style. The art she creates today is only made with paper and is frequently composed of thousands of small pieces layered onto each other. Sherill’s work has been featured in many group shows as well as several solo shows locally and nationally. Her artwork has also been featured in books and magazines.

The artist’s website: http://sagworks.com/art.html

Hiding the Bullet by Rosemary Feit Covey

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“What should I write for this piece?” I asked my friend Kathy Beynette. Kathy is one of my best art friends. An art friend is a good friend but more, because they understand ones work. Kathy will always give an unexpected answer but this time she was practical. “Write something that promotes your exhibition at the Evergreen Museum in Baltimore.”

Kathy was in my studio at the time. I had asked her to comment on a large painting I’m working on that is made up of hundreds of woodcuts. I had become stuck on some compositional elements. After working non-stop for three weeks on this one piece I was not sure I could see it clearly anymore. Kathy suggested I leave one corner light and keep the upper section less defined. I had not thought of this. When finished this will be one of the cornerstones of my retrospective exhibition at the Evergreen.

This particular piece is called “Crossing the Line”, and I had made a smaller version last year. That sold. This one triples the scale and takes the concept much further. At first the viewer is drawn to the highly decorative, bright ginkgo leaves. Looking deeper, the colors reference a personal tragedy. The yellow police line and the blood left on leaves by the door. “Crossing the Line” is made from just five wood engravings, printed many times, with each leaf print cut out and worked together into a large composition. This is a labor intensive piece of work, but labor alone does not amount to a hill of beans if the concept and final work do not come together and resonate emotionally.

Rosemary Feit Covey with Crossing the Line
Rosemary Feit Covey creating “Crossing the Line”. Image courtesy the artist.

In this composition I’m taking the risk of including a few new elements not tried in the earlier version. Hidden underneath the leaves is the shape of a figure, and a bullet. These elements can only be perceived subliminally as they are covered by leaves on the surface. Even someone owning the artwork may never know what the raised sections of the painting reference, or ever find the bullet. Kathy and I discussed the concept and how far to push it. She understands that I needed those pieces as personal touchstones as I worked (during the weeks I spent printing, painting and cutting parts those elements kept me connected to the meaning of the piece), and why it was important to not make them a compositional focus.

During the same conversation Kathy and I also looked at some large pillars I am creating for the Evergreen exhibition. For this exhibition I am making eight pillars. The pillars measure from six to nine feet tall, and were started during a residency in Park City, Utah. For that residency I drove across the country with my dog Seal, and once I arrived, the trip itself informed my work. The pillars are constructed of drawings and paintings applied to the surface of concrete forms. Working in the round presents new challenges. The work has to be seen (and be exciting) from all angles. The colors of the pillars are changing as I am no longer influenced by the Western United States. Kathy suggested continuing boldly with a yellow color I was unsure of. She often pushes for more- more color- more craziness. A good art friend thinks like this and makes artistic suggestions. It is indispensable. They know your work almost as well as their own. They have watched your progress over time, know your short hand, and limitations, but also push for growth. In a world filled with competition and unkindness this is a real gift.

I’ve noticed that the art friend relationship is not always reciprocal. Sometimes a person I help does not play the same role for me. It works as a chain rather than a direct tit for tat. Another art friend – Margaret Huddy – has for years gone out for lunch with me when either of us have an art win (an exhibition, grant, residency, or publication.) Our work is very different but our career goals mesh and we understand that it is sometimes easier to mourn failures, instead of celebrating when we do receive the small wins that make up an art career.

Kathy and Margaret and I all work at the Torpedo Factory in Alexandria. The Torpedo Factory is an unusual studio space in that the studios are fully visible to the public – with no privacy. This is not easy for me when I am working on multiple pieces and with deadlines. When I concentrate deeply any interruption causes me to react like a grumpy bear. So why work at a place where we are art/zoo animals on display? I make my living by selling my work. If this open studio was taken away from me tomorrow with the prospect of sales still remaining viable, would I go happily? I am not sure. I would miss the regular interactions with Kathy and Margaret, and I would miss the chance to be seen as I struggle.  Kathy knows where the bullet is hidden, and as we share our lives and careers that is worth something.

Rosemary-Feit-Covey-headshotRosemary Feit Covey has exhibited both in the United States and internationally, including solo exhibitions in Argentina, Switzerland, the Butler Institute of American Art, as well as other solo and group exhibitions. 

Collections include the Corcoran Gallery of Art; the New York Public Library Collection of Prints and Drawings; the Papyrus Institute, Cairo, Egypt; the National Library of Australia, Canberra; The National Museum of American History; Georgetown University Library Print Collection; Harvard University Library; and Princeton University Library. Georgetown University, Special Collections Library recently acquired 512 of her prints.

Ms. Covey was a 1998 recipient of a Rockefeller Foundation Grant and has been commissioned by The New York Times and The Washington Post and has illustrated many books. Ms. Covey has given lectures at universities in China, Interlochen Center for the Arts, the National Museum of Women in the Arts, the University of Wyoming, the International Monetary Fund, as well as other institutions in this country and abroad.

Born in Johannesburg, South Africa, Rosemary Feit Covey lives in Alexandria, Virginia. Visit her studio in the Torpedo Factory: Rosemary Feit Covey, Studio 224, or her website: http://rosemaryfeitcovey.com. Her work can be seen and purchased at Morton Fine Art in Washington D.C.

The exhibition referenced in this article opens March 9, 2014 at Evergreen Museum:  http://museums.jhu.edu/evergreen.php

Artist Kathy DeZan Beynette referenced in this article: http://pomegranatecom.blogspot.com/2013/09/how-ugly-pair-of-shoes-led-her-to-write.html

Artist Margaret Huddy referenced in this article: http://www.huddy.com/

Piecing it Together at the Woodworkers Club by Ellen Hill

Right now I’m working on two-dimensional paintings that combine panels or multiple pieces of painted and carved wood. The paintings are developed through a technique using lots of repeated mark-making, and multiple glued wood bits. The wood bits can begin to look kind of textile or mosaic-like. This kind of repetition is itself an expressive act for me, expressive of the joy and comfort that I find in repetition, and similar feelings I have about the constancy of natural cycles.

Rock Creek by Ellen Hill; Image courtesy of Steven Scott Gallery, Baltimore
Rock Creek by Ellen Hill; Image courtesy of Steven Scott Gallery, Baltimore

The panels are visibly textural once completed but most of them are built on smooth birch veneer plywood. It has a fairly tight grain, so it doesn’t split easily when I carve it, and it shows the grain when I ink it up. I can etch lines into it and build up the surface with layers of paint. I like the way wood feels and smells; it’s got some substance to it, and I like the inborn tactile energy that it carries with it.

I split my time between my home studio and the Woodworkers Club in Rockville, where I do the sawing and sanding. The drawing, painting, carving, layout and gluing of the artwork takes place in my home studio, so my studio is filled with thousands of little pieces of painted, inked, carved and etched wood. Spending part of my time at the Woodworkers Club is important because it gives me the chance to talk to other people who are working on completely different projects, which helps keep me from going crazy alone in my studio surrounded by little wood rectangles. I learn a lot from the other woodworkers and we chat and bounce ideas of one another. It’s good to mix some fun with work.

Southbound by Ellen Hill. Image courtesy Steven Scott Gallery
Southbound by Ellen Hill. Image courtesy of Steven Scott Gallery, Baltimore

I’m currently making work for a solo show that will open in April 2014 at the Steven Scott Gallery in Baltimore. I’m painting and etching boards with colorful washes and patterned lines (these boards will be cut up), and making panels with imagery. I tend to use imagery that I’m familiar with—woodsy birds and plants from the Mid-Atlantic region, or patterns that suggest nature.

So far, I’m not sure where these new pieces and panels will go. I’ve got this idea for a “tablecloth” series. I like the idea of something that people gather around at important times, where they share and have a good time. And I love the way that tablecloths tend to lack realistic perspective but can emphasize crazy pattern and energy. I’m hoping that some of the panels I’m working on now will end up in this tablecloth idea. It may or may not work; this is one of those things you have to figure out by doing.

In terms of subject matter, I usually focus my art on things that are affirming for me. I see some artwork that speaks about social issues, and it’s absolutely great and I really admire it. But I have a pretty obsessive personality to begin with, so I have to be careful because I’ve found that when I try to make work about things that make me angry, I just become angrier — and depressed. So I find other ways to address things about the world that bother me. Personal loss and sorrow have inspired some of my work, but even this work tends to celebrate what has been lost, or has been a way to try to keep the faith. It may sound simple-minded, but if someone has my work on a wall, I want it to make them feel good.

Artist Ellen HillEllen Hill‘s artworks have been shown throughout the United States and abroad in Northern Ireland and Vietnam. Her works are in public and private collections including the U.S. State Department; the D.C. Commission for the Arts and Humanities; KPMG-LLP; and Rutgers University. Hill is the recipient of two Individual Artist Awards from the Maryland State Arts Council and a 2011 Grant to Individual Artists from the Arts and Humanities Council of Montgomery County. She has taught art from the elementary school level to the college level, and has served as Artist in Residence at Montgomery College, Takoma Park, MD; Hood College in Frederick, MD; and as resident printmaker at Pyramid Atlantic Art Center in Silver Spring, MD. She received her MFA from the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill. Ellen is represented by the Steven Scott Gallery, Baltimore, MD. 

Georgetown Revisited by Teri Hiley

The exhibition that is opening this week at The Arts Club of Washington shows twenty-two of my artworks from a series I painted in response to my first visit to the east coast of America. Born in Australia I, like so many of my countrymen, love to travel. Whilst my husband and I had holidayed in America before, it was usually to ski in Colorado. In 2003 we took a longer vacation, including our first trip to the east coast, which allowed us to see a little of New York, followed by a few days in Washington, before going via Florida to New Mexico to ski. I made the paintings in this exhibit between 2004 and 2007, and at the time I painted them I never dreamed we would end up living and working here. My husband and I moved to the District in September of 2010, sent here by an Australian clean energy company to join their office here.

As a child I had a strong interest in drawing. and elected to study art throughout my secondary school years. After joining the workforce, marrying and having two children, I wanted to express myself by painting, and started with art society classes where we lived. More formal training followed, including six years of tertiary courses which led to a Bachelor of Visual Arts (Fine Arts) from Sydney College of the Arts. After the death of my first husband I used my skills teaching art in high schools for ten years.

Live-Jazz-web copy
“Live Jazz” by Teri Hiley
Many of my paintings in this exhibition are vignettes of Georgetown scenes and buildings. The area is not what it was the first time I saw it, the way it is in my paintings. It has been gentrified and sanitized. What once inspired me — the creative color schemes of the old buildings along M Street, the “Live Jazz” sign — is no more. The decorative windows and doorway of that bar have been replaced with an aluminum alternative – probably more efficient, but soulless and very brown. I would not paint it today. I am currently working on paintings of Paris scenes as well as a few portraits of family and friends. I tend to work on subjects in hindsight whilst I absorb the place I am living in. I suspect the next Washington series is gestating as I write.

I usually paint for four or five hours a day, five days a week, in natural light, when I am in my home studio in the Blue Mountains outside of Sydney. That is where I painted the scenes of Georgetown — with a view on the Australian bush. I prefer to work at home. Watercolor and acrylics are my preferred mediums. To paint here in Washington I set up in the brightest room in the house making do with a lightweight easel that I can pack away easily when necessary. I have a growing hoard of art materials stashed under beds, in cupboards and in drawers. Unfinished paintings are propped behind furniture and folders of drawings lean discreetly against any spare walls. The longer I am in one place the more my art making spreads over the house. It has taken a little while to begin new projects here. It always does. Picture a cat prowling around its new space, poking and prodding the furniture till it can get comfortable and settle.

I’m honored to be exhibiting alongside talented artists Susanne Eisinger and Ellen Winkler in the upcoming show, and invite you to come enjoy the opening with me, Friday September 6 from 6:30–9 p.m. in the Galleries at The Arts Club of Washington, 2017 I Street, NW, Washington, DC. The exhibit will be on display from September 6 – 28, 2013.

Teri-HileyTeri Hiley is an Australian born artist currently residing in Washington, D.C. She has enjoyed a long career as an award winning artist, and her work is represented in public and private collections in Australia and the United States. Formal studies included the completion of the Art Certificate course at Meadowbank College of TAFE, Sydney and a B.A. (Visual Arts) at Sydney College of the Arts. Teri taught art in various high schools for 10 years before retiring to paint full time. She was accepted as an exhibiting member of The Royal Art Society of New South Wales in 1999 and was elevated to Associate Member in 2006. She joined The Arts Club of Washington in 2012.