CONTEMPORARY EXPLORER

  The South is dotted with small towns. Many mere shadows of the past, having been abandoned by once flourishing manufacturing. They seemingly exist on the edges of what remains with store fronts boarded up, streets empty and hopes gone.  The one remaining business is the local hardware store. Each town seems to have one. Names like China Grove Hardware, Woodman’s, Ruffs, Little Parts Hardware, Cedar Lane, Beatles Ford Ferry, Goodman. Each one is a time capsule of parts and pieces. A voyage into the past and what once was. The very reason they exist is that the town and its buildings are old. You can’t find repair parts at Walmart or home depot. Only these small stores have them. Even when foot traffic dies in a town, people still beat a path to the local hardware.  Ezells Hardware in Chester is a classic example. Deep in one of the corners of the store is a book the owner calls “The Pipe Bible.” Its actually a combination of several books documenting different pipes and ...

  Jennifer Wallace in her recent WSJ article on retirement wrote about how important mattering is to well being. It’s rooted in our ancestors when making a contribution kept you in the tribe and safe. The article spurred numerous conversations on the subject. So the question is does mattering really matter? The answer is yes, but maybe in a different way than discussed. When we retire, we leave behind a portfolio of skills and experiences we used to make a difference and help people. It’s only natural you want to use them to continue helping others. To remain part of the action.  You go to the local food bank thinking they will want you to help manage or at least be on the board. But, you find they want you to restock shelves or carry out carts of groceries to waiting clients. Not what you imagined. The lack of opportunity to matter in a major way can lead to depression, a major problem for seniors. You begin to loose a sense of self. You can change all of this over time. You ...

  You could almost here it say, I am still here. The entrance and  Hallways kept clean by what seemed Like an army of workers, I wondered Who paid them?  The mall dying fast, weighed down by  A post xMas rush of shops leaving. Even the chicken burger fast food was gone, Replaced by a couple of fledgling taco kiosks. Names no one ever heard of or ever will. Only Belk and a discounter Roses held sway in  The caverns of the place. What shops were left  Stayed close to them, hoping for fall- off clients. A giant furniture discounter now rented an old  Anchor store space. The vulture type that Circles these failing places seeking low rent and Low price buyers. There staff trained to dress black And sell, just sell.  All but a few of the hallway kiosks were gone. The owners Of the ones remaining sitting close to the cash register hoping It would ring. A barber sat in a salon with no heads. The massage Technician long ago giving up on customers slept on ...

  Sometimes it’s just the pattern of things. Boards placed over windows in an abandoned building showing weathered streaks and patterns over time. Their color muted, blending into the being of the place left. You take a photo, not fully knowing the full art there. Overtime you happen upon it in your albums, with a few art tools you think it could become art. You think about painting, but they have not created brushes small enough for my big hands. The colors are so definite, the detail suffering. There is the wonder of colored pencils. Especially Derwent ones. The new series they have, Intense Ink, so perfect. They are watercolor pencils that become painting with lines wetted by brush or even finger. These combined with their portrait pencil set creates lay on layer of color blends.  No matter what the tools you use, the full art in the piece is never quite found. Perhaps this is a good thing, allowing a retelling over time…