Lessons from the Folk

This past weekend, as part of my birthday celebrations, we decamped to Macon, GA. I was born there and spent the first six years of my life there (plus another 1.5 years a little later), and my favorite barbecue is still Fincher’s BBQ — an important fact to know, because a couple of months ago we stopped by the Gray Highway location on our way back from St. Augustine, only to find it closed on Sundays now. We consulted our phone apps and headed downtown to grab something to eat.

It is also important to know that Macon, like many midsize cities, has long been hollowed out by malls and suburban flight. My grandfather owned a restaurant on Mulberry St, and about a decade ago when we drove by to look at it, we learned that the building had burned some time ago; it’s now a parking lot. The rest of downtown was in similar shape.

You can imagine my astonishment then to find myself amidst a hipster revival: brewpubs, restaurants, bars, performance venues. We made a vow to return to explore, and this weekend we did.

This post is not about the fabulous food and cocktails we had, though. It is yet another examination of the ways in which “untrained artists” show us that the power to make art belongs to all of us, not just to graduates of BFA programs.

We went to the Tubman African American Museum, and it is phenomenal. It houses multiple exhibits on the totality of the African American experience in this country and is absolutely worth the time to visit.

The building itself is stunning:

The dome is mesmerizing:

In the first floor of the rotunda, the exhibit is the work of professional artists, all quite capable — but you know me, I want to see what the rest of us produce when no one is looking, so the second floor was where I spent the most time.

I mean, you get off the elevator and see this:

Henry the Lion (1995) and Moses the Leopard (2003), by O.L. Samuels

Not to disparage our BFA brethren, but look at this! No “artist’s statement” or “purpose,” just someone who wanted to Make A Thing. In this case, Samuels turned to carving after suffering a injury at work. Seeking to lessen his depression, he remembered his grandmother telling him that a person could keep his mind off his troubles by carving/whittling, and so he set to it.

Look at old Henry the Lion: striding along, simultaneously a little goofy and a little alarming, a discarded wig for a mane and marbles for eyes. Perfection!

This was my favorite piece:

Toto with Dish (1989), by Jimmy Lee Sudduth

Have you ever seen a more accurate representation of a happy little dog?

Jimmy Sudduth used colored clays near his home to make a natural base for his medium, which he colored with “pokeberries, leaves, tree buds, soot, and old coffee grounds” — and then he used his bare hands to paint with instead of brushes.

Toto, detail

Just like the work of James Castle, Sudduth’s raw approach to materials and subject are thrilling to me in ways that the carefully considered works of “trained” artists often fail to evoke.

I’m going to stop here and pick up this thread on Wednesday, but once again I ask you to consider: If these people have done this without having suffered through art school, why can’t you?

Make the Thing That Is Not.