Today I needed a break. A walk in the garden would have been nice.
I needed some solitary tranquility.
I needed to hold court in the backyard and look over the town.
I needed a stroll without anybody pulling on me.
In reality, I did not get the things I needed today. But I got them once upon a time, and I used my mind to call up this scene again. As long as we are in control of our own minds we can be free no matter where our physical body is.
I am a little late with this posting. The 19th Annual Telfair Art Fair was held November 16 – 17, 2013 in the Telfair Square outside the Jepson Center and the Telfair Academy. Bob and I perused the artist booths on Saturday afternoon. When we heard the term “art fair,” we tempered our expectations going in. I should have known better since the Telfair was involved!
No, this was a real deal fine art event with around 80 artists specially selected to showcase their work. I was particularly intrigued by three artists on scene.
Jenny Henley
Jenny took home an award from the show, and is pictured below with the typewriters that caught my eye:
Maybe it was the writer in me, but I was struck by these images. I must have totally been getting it, because Jenny was kind enough to answer a few of my questions and said that the typewriter “is a beautiful piece of equipment that is responsible for so much growth in modern technology.” Right on, Jenny Henley. I didn’t know it at the time, but now I think I feel the same way about the typewriter as I feel about aviation. My two most favorite things to do – write and travel.
The thing about Jenny Henley is that she’s talented, smart, and nice all rolled into this one unstoppable force of an artist. She describes her work and process lyrically:
“Working with a methodology that embraces sculptural practices in a painting framework, I attempt to reconcile ideas of technology, formal aesthetics and time. Typically I use recognizable imagery, appropriated for an audience familiar with contemporary notions of art; yet fused to a slightly nostalgic sensibility. My acrylic-based transfer process is considerably stable and archival. Inherently luxurious; the glossy surfaces I create allow me to create a hard, impenetrable, and thereby fixed and eternal work (I am concerned with time and viewer observation/commitment), but are also sly comments on the social markers that surround art, and art making.”
More about Jenny Henley: http://www.henleystudios.com/home.html
Clifton Henri
A self-described storyteller who was born and raised on the Southside of Chicago, Clifton’s work grabs your imagination and pulls you into his scenes. The door series (one of which is pictured below) 
was the image that first caught my attention. The idea being conveyed is one of unknown opportunity. You never know what is on the other side of the door until you open it and come out on the other side. The idea is inspiring enough, and certainly one that we can all relate to at some point in our lives. Seeing the idea captured in an image makes it particularly powerful and thought-provoking. Do we stay where we are, or do we dare go through the door even if we don’t know what is going to come? It could just be where I am right now in life, but I loved these doors. There comes a moment in life (or at least for me that moment came) where you take stock and weigh your options. Maybe a moment of clarity finally comes. Peace came upon me. I don’t know what is waiting for me on the other side of the door, and it doesn’t matter anymore. I can’t stay here. I’m going through. There are no guarantees that what is on the other side is going to be immediately better, but it will be different. And sometimes that is enough. A “I don’t know where I’m going, but I can’t stay here” moment. You don’t know, but you jump anyway. And then you are free.
http://cliftonhenri.zenfolio.com/thecliftonhenricollection/h38734c67#h3791d650
Craig Brabson
I knew this guy was special the first time I saw him. I wanted to buy Blue Timbers, 
and probably just should have. I need to work on my art patronage. Perhaps after that second book sells….. But I digress. Craig is a gifted fine art abstract photographer, who showcases the beauty in ruin. Think old pieces of wood from a sawmill somewhere in Alabama. A rusting door perhaps, as shown in Aquatic. His work struck a chord with me because it reminded me so much of the scenery I saw while traveling and exploring the subjects of Haunted Asylums, Prisons, and Sanatoriums. I just love the concept of documenting and preserving the historic ruins throughout this country. That is not all he does, but that is my particular favorite genre.
http://craigbrabson.com/portfolio/architectural-and-travel/blue-timbers—retro-relics
Maybe, there is hope for me as a photographer yet. I did capture an orange rusting boiler in the basement of an old poor farm in Illinois last year. However, there is a gnawing knowing inside of me that tells me it is just not quite the same thing.
From time to time, I end up somewhere that is really special. Maybe it is the place itself, or maybe it is in comparison to what has immediately gone before it, I can’t be sure. There are moments in time where all of the elements just add up perfectly. For instance, take these things and add them together: an overcast day, a perfect dirt road that has just had the loose dust beaten into submission by the rain, an 18th century estate, and a canoe on the back pond.
Truth be told, the perfect day didn’t start out well. There was a supposedly haunted lighthouse at Point Lookout State Park that I wanted to poke around in. No one wanted me to do it, because the place was blocked off.
What’s more, I looked down at my feet and a fish head met my gaze.
He was not having a great day either.
We left the locked lighthouse behind and set off for Woodlawn. Things got better. And quick.
Out back, an orchestra played my favorite Led Zeppelin song (or at least, they played a Led Zeppelin song) while we sat at the end of the dock and watched the small crowd of guests on the back porch.
Pretty soon, we had to take a canoe out on the water. When we rounded the last bend out of sight of the main house, a bald eagle flew right over our heads.
Our home for the night was a small cottage with a red door away from the main house, and by the pond. We were secluded, tucked away from the world, and safe from anything not directly related to our own happiness.
The next morning, I drank coffee by the pond and finalized Chapter 8 of Haunted Asylums, Prisons, and Sanatoriums.
I have always loved a good hideout.
Before traveling and the official work began on Haunted Asylums, Prisons, and Sanatoriums, my co-author (Sam Queen) and I wanted to try out our investigation tactics and equipment a little closer to home. I grew up in Rex, Georgia, and just down the road from my home town sits an 1839 Antebellum home. Growing up, I never heard any ghost stories about the home, but it just always had that “haunted” look to me. You know the feeling. A lot of folks have a certain fixation on a neighborhood spot that “just has to be haunted because it is so old.”
We rented the home for the evening so we could poke around and investigate.
The gorgeous home:
Notice how the atmosphere changes based on twilight setting in:
We could not have picked a better time to investigate as far as the atmosphere of the home. Victorian Mourning Tours are given the entire month of August, and the house is decked out with authentic pieces related to Victorian funerals. Some of the most fascinating exhibits on display were the tear catchers and funeral jewelry!
Throughout our visit, we had full access to the grounds,
including the old schoolhouse.
Nothing strange happened to us until after about three hours, when we made our way down to the parlor.
It was here that we captured an EVP of a man’s voice. He responded to a request to state his name. What did he say? “Buddy Franks.” Maybe, just maybe, we were in contact with a Civil War Soldier.
Saturday is officially DO WHAT YOU WANT DAY in my world. November 16, and the weather was so good we had to hit the beach.
Bob took some nice shots of the lighthouse and underneath the pier from his phone.
But what really had me thinking about life was a dollar I pinned to a bar about a year ago. Down what I call cottage shop lane on Tybee Island, 
you will find a pizza joint by the name of Huc-A-Poos.
And inside this joint you will find this little nugget:
Guess what? I still believe it.
Further Reading:
Friday, October 18, Bob and I took in a showing of Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil.
It was tremendous fun seeing the movie here, and recognizing a lot of the real venues that were used in the film. Some things were true to form, others were not. For instance, we have yet to see a jet fly over Forsyth Park, and the airport used in the movie is decidedly not something we recognize. Clary’s Café is only open for breakfast and lunch, and there are no double-decker tour buses in town, much less airport pick-ups by the tour companies.
They did get a few things spot-on, such as depicting the beauty of Jones Street, and sensationalizing the nutty eccentricities of those who inhabit this small town. There is a quote in the movie that Bob always cracks up at and it is: “It’s like Gone With the Wind on Mescaline.” That about sums it up.
About halfway in to Midnight, the seventy or so year old woman in the row in front of me decided she needed to get up. Since this is Savannah, the movie theatre was of course serving drinks, and she and her friend had been enjoying this particular amenity for some time. Well, the poor lady fell right on her butt, and being in a Lemonhead delirium myself, the only thing I could do is suppress my laughter and sink low in my seat, shaking uncontrollably. Bob thought I was having a seizure. Well, she was fine, and she and her lady friend received top-offs from an employee (and signed waivers if someone was on top of their game) and settled back in to enjoy the remainder of the movie, like a true original Savannah character.
I’ve always loved old theatres, and the 1921 Lucas Theatre has some magnificent details inside. This was the first place in Savannah to feature air conditioning, and this was a main selling point to attract customers. Sort of a “We have air conditioning. Oh yeah, and if you come in we’ll be showing a movie too.” The Lucas closed in 1976. The last movie shown was The Exorcist. A series of businesses occupied the space until the building was saved in 1986 by Savannahians and some help from the Forrest Gump celebrities. Kevin Spacey has box seats to this day (reserved for those who donate in excess of $250,000). A $14 million restoration project spanned fourteen years.
Check out the ceiling fixture and the wall plaster that shows gryphons.
I went back and forth debating with myself whether it was a gryphon or a liger, getting my mythological creatures mixed up.
I loved spotting the cameo-ish wall décor.
I hear in the 1980’s the place was a nightclub, and pieces of red velvet were used to cover up all of these columns. What is pictured, is said to be the only original one left when the theatre was saved in 1986.
Details on the ceiling:
Counterweights backstage:
And my favorite shot of the moulding at the top of one wall, because it looks like a painting:
Further reading:
New Year’s Day 2013 and Bob and I were driving from Sedona to Bisbee, with a stop in Tombstone. We passed through Tucson (and would be coming back through for our last night in Arizona).
Tombstone
Like every good ghost hunter, I had marked the 1881 Birdcage Theatre on my list of must see stops. We did not do any hunting there, this was a straight tourist stop during business hours. We were met by a weirdo woman who totally creeped us out at the cash register. The main area of the museum is nicely preserved, but the place reeks of sadness and dusty desperation. (I think this is an accurate portrayal of what it must have actually been like when it was brand new and serving it’s purpose, by the way). The basement area that holds an old gambling table and some more cribs is downright haunting. It would not be hard to imagine ghosts rambling around this basement when they shut the lights off for the night.
I wanted to like Tombstone. I was excited to travel there for the first time. However, my impression of the town is that it is what Disney would contrive to preserve an old Western town. I saw Boot Hill Cemetery and it made me feel dirty, as though I were guilty of exploiting the dead. Bob and I both turned around and got out of that place in less than two minutes. We burned rubber out of Tombstone and never looked back.
Tombstone made me wish we had spent more time hiking in Tucson amongst the gorgeous, taller than us, cactuses.
Bisbee
We settled in to the Letson Loft Hotel, overlooking the main street of historic downtown Bisbee. I didn’t think about all the shops and galleries being closed because it was New Year’s Day until we got here! I missed out on some good shopping, but there were a few antique stores still open so I got a quick fix, at least. I also got in a good walk and a great lower body workout while I was navigating my way over black ice traps, and I had a lot of fun picking out locations from The Great Stair Climb. The whole town is built on the hills.
I also witnessed a fantastic female drunk outside of a bar in the middle of the day just losing her mind and yelling in some language that was not quite English or Spanish, or any romance language I have ever heard, actually. I entered her line of vision by accident when I turned left at a dead end street. Except she was deliriously and dangerously drunk, so she never saw me. I stood there frozen for a few seconds, watching the drama play out before me. For a moment, I contemplated helping her. Then my roots kicked in, and I did what any self-respecting Southerner would do in the same situation: I turned and walked away. It has never benefited me to insert myself into the dealings of others.
Dinner was at the famous Copper Queen Hotel, and sadly, it was not worth mentioning.
Here’s the thing about Bisbee. It’s weird. I didn’t know why until we left the next morning, but I could sense that the atmosphere in the town was “off.” The night before, as the sun was setting and we were exploring the streets of historic downtown, I looked at Bob and said: “Something bad happened here. Something is really not right here.”
I had the Queen Mine marked on my list of things to do, but in the morning, I looked out over the town once more from our hotel room, and I didn’t want to go anymore. When we got back to the highway, I was googling Bisbee and tragedy, trying to figure out if there was a tangible reason for the way I was feeling. It turns out that in the summer of 1917, about 2,000 men were kidnapped right out of their homes and boarded onto trains that would drop them off in the New Mexico desert. The owners of the mine did it as an act of retaliation for the striking workers, and this was the largest mass kidnapping in America.
I swear this left a mark on the land.
I shivered as our car sped back to Tucson, carrying us just as fast as we dared go. And I said, in a tone of voice that could never convey what I was actually feeling on the inside (my gut-speak raw innards): “I told you something bad happened in that place. It’s time to go.”
As always, we like to index our travels inside our “Play”Journal, from Stealth Journals. A sample entry page is contained below:
Further Reading:
http://tombstonebirdcage.com/
http://www.discoverbisbee.com/
http://www.copperqueen.com/
When I lived in Atlanta, one of my favorite weekend jaunts was Chattanooga. Just far enough away to make you feel as though you are going somewhere, and just close enough to make it not a hassle to get there.
If you live in or near Atlanta, and are itching to get away for the weekend, listen up because I am about to let you in on my perfect weekend in Chattanooga. First of all, I have always been partial to The Chattanoogan Hotel. My next favorite choice would be to stay in the Bluff View Art District.
When you wake up on Saturday morning, head straight over to Rembrandt’s Coffee House and get fueled up. If you do it properly, this will carry you through your Aquarium and Hunter Art Museum touring. Truth be told, the Aquarium sort of loses me towards the end, but it is worth it if you’ve never seen it before, and I still really love going. The penguins are hysterical show-stoppers. The last time I was there, they had a few little penguins separated from the pack (I guess they were misbehaving and had to go to penguin jail), and some of their friends were gathered around them trying to figure out how to bust them out. They had a lot of heart, those penguins. Much better than just watching the fish float around blowing bubbles (but the fish were good too – I don’t want to get any angry emails calling me a fish hater). Come to think of it, the seahorses were almost as good as the penguins. I loved how many of them held onto each other with their tails. You could really tell those seahorses loved each other. Either that, or they had major separation anxiety. I prefer to think they were in love.
As for Hunter, this is a venue that offers American Art from colonial times to the current day. You can tell this from the architecture of the complex before you even go in! The main building is a stately old mansion, and to your left is the modern wing. This facility will always be special to me because it was the first art museum I ever introduced Bob to. There are some fantastic spots within the museum to relax and look over the Tennessee River.
When you are finished up with the museum, you have to make one last stop, and it is pure touristy kitsch at its finest. You have to go to Lookout Mountain and see Rock City. It really is a beautifully maintained former private garden, and when you hit it towards the end of the day you will have some privacy and can pretend that it is your own backyard. It goes a little awry at the end, but I still recommend it. For you locals, notice that I made no such recommendation to see Ruby Falls. I don’t have anything against the Falls, but you just can’t see everything in one weekend, so I am cutting it from the itinerary.
For dinner, you can walk to the Terminal Brewhouse from The Chattanoogan Hotel. I would like to be able to tell you that I eat an entrée when I come here. But inevitably, what happens is that I start off with Mr. Frogs Super Happy Fun Journey, and then that’s it. I love that stuff. After dinner, walk next door to the Chattanooga Choo Choo and poke around a bit. This is a really cool old train station that is now a hotel.
The next morning, take a walk across the Walnut Street Bridge and take in a shop or two at the North Shore. Your last stop before you head home is Cloudland Canyon State Park. Take the 2 mile waterfalls trail down to the base of both falls. This is such a good workout, because you will be going up and down a lot of stairs in between your hiking!
Congratulations, you just completed Jamie’s Chattanooga quick fix perfect weekend getaway.
As always, our weekend getaways are always indexed inside our “Play” Journal by Stealth Journals. A sample entry page is pictured below:
Further Reading:
http://www.bluffviewartdistrict.com/subpage.php?pageId=140
http://www.chattanooganhotel.com/
http://www.tnaqua.org/Home.aspx
http://www.huntermuseum.org/
http://www.lookoutmountain.com/rock-city
http://terminalbrewhouse.com/
http://www.choochoo.com/
http://www.chattanoogafun.com/members/walnut-street-pedestrian-bridge-1822
http://www.gastateparks.org/CloudlandCanyon
Jamie Davis Writes 