A Weekend in Savannah
This Friday afternoon I traded Columbia windy, hot skies for Savannah cobblestone roads. I've never been to this city, yet I drive through it all the time. Doesn't that say something about life? I'm so rushed to get to where I'm going that the journey passes by in a blur.
Today, I remind myself to enjoy the journey, and park along the red brick streets of Savannah, Georgia.
The air BnB is tucked away in a corner, down a few steps through what feels like an iron gate. We're staying in an old, mansion-like building which feels like it's been stolen out of the regency era. Like I might expect to turn and see Elizabeth Bennet sitting on the patio reading a book. Now, though, it's been divided into smaller apartments for people like me to tuck myself away for the night to emerge the next morning and become a wandering stranger among the mass of the city.
Right next door to us lives an artist named Jane. We couldn't help but notice an easel and paintings by the open window, and the sign above her doorknob: hand painted letters: GALLERY
Joseph and I passed by Jane in the shared garden area this Saturday evening. The sun was losing its last bits of light in the sky; it was nearing 8pm, and we were on our way to pick up a pizza for dinner.
Jane waved hello to us, and invited us into her studio apartment. I had been so curious about it our whole trip- and it was such a joyful surprise to have met her there and then.
She opened the door, and as we climbed down the steps, we found ourselves walking inside a living gallery.
Jane paints beautiful, emotional portraits.
I asked her who she paints, who these characters are, and she told me that they're largely inspired by characters she reads about in literature, or a stranger she meets around the town. In a way, these walls breathe the story of her lived experiences- real and imagined.
We talk for close to thirty minutes about art, culture, and community. How we can spend our whole lives trying to find our own unique world in painting just to meet another person who recognizes the beauty of that world.
I realize then… to be an artist is to be endlessly vulnerable. In a world that roughens your edges, being an artist is remaining soft. Continuing to interpret the world and believe the best of the world. To tell stories, and shape our perception as a community.
It's walking the lone path, trying to figure out who you are to others. She described herself as something of a philosopher in her older age now, having been retired for a number of years.
We talked about how sometimes people don't seem to "get it," and still, that can never knock you off the course of finding your truth as an artist. Who you are under all the layers. It reminded me of the popular saying- to be an artist is to live and create in solitude.
Yet… somehow we don't feel lonely- at least I don't. I try not to be anyway.
I always try to remember that at the core of all of us is the desire to be seen and loved and accepted. I'm always trying to paint and bridge that gap between you and me.
To say I'm just like you, and you're just like me. Here is the joy that brings us all together.
Joseph and I wave goodbye to Jane, and we climb into the car, driving down the few blocks to a pizza place that, oddly enough, plays screamo music at all hours. Great pizza! Would go again.
As we drove back to the apartment I couldn't help but reflect on the beautiful, colonial-style architecture. It's like art is woven into the fabric of this town, as if it's been carved out of the past.
If you didn't already know- Many buildings in Savannah are preserved buildings from the 18th century, dating back to the American Revolution. Home owners here in the city are required to maintain the historical exterior of the building, or sell it back to the city.
And I have to say, I can't help but respect that deeply.
In a world where I feel like we're constantly on fast-forward, trying to find the newest best thing, it feels like a wonderful thing to find myself standing in the middle of intentionally preserved history.
The air BnB has a hanging, framed painting which reads: If you haven't been to Savannah, you haven't seen the south. After this weekend, I can't help but agree.
