ALABAMA ARTS In this Issue · 2013. 10. 16. · 4 • Alabama Arts • Fall 1999 T his last year has certainly been an Annis Mirabilis for Madison Jones, a year of wonders. His newest

F a l l 1 9 9 9 • A l a b a m a A r t s • 1

Madison JonesDon Noble

After 40 years as a novelist, Madison Jones is gaining the recognition he deserves.

In Step and In TimeLaura Knox

Three who once lived to dance, talk about their new lives behind the scenes: an interview with

Wes Chapman, Winthrop Corey and Teri Weksler.

Merging Talents, Merging CulturesPeggy Denniston

A photo-essay with excerpts from student writings.

Writer Peggy Denniston and photographer Sheila Hagler are teaching high school students

to relfect their life experiences through words and pictures.

Public ArtGeorgine Clark

Five Alabama artists who think big are making notable sculptures for public spaces.

Fellowship Profiles

Volume XV Number 3FALL 1999Library of Congress Card No. 74628447

In this Issue

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On the cover: Composition No. 32, 1998, by Carlton Nell. Oil on panel, 10 x 7 in.Courtesy of The Marcia Wood Gallery, Atlanta, Georgia

The Artist’s Life

ALABAMA ARTS

2 • A l a b a m a A r t s • F a l l 1 9 9 9

If one believes that the arts repre-sent the most elevated form of humanexpression, then it stands to reasonthat the individual artist should beconsidered one of society’s mostvalued resources and treasures. Itshould go without saying that the pro-fessional artist would hold a lofty andunique position in our community,state and nation. It should be anunderstatement to say that artists aresignificant to understanding our past,present and future.

Among people who lack earlymeaningful exposure to the arts, artistsare more likely to be considered enter-tainers or decorators. In reality, theartist’s role goes much deeper.

When an artist’s work moves usto tears, lifts our soul and spirit, orarouses our sense of wonder, then wetruly appreciate his or her role in ourlives and society. When our lives arechanged by an artist’s work, it is as ifthe light bulb goes on in our brains;we know something very special hasoccurred. When an entire communityis brought together by works of itsartists, community leaders realize thatthe arts have an important part to playin advancing the quality of life foreveryone. When there is controversyabout challenging expression, thepower of the artist can be seen.

The fact is, society has a love-hate relationship with artists. Theseunusual people make us happy anddepressed, secure and uncomfortable,aware and confused, tolerant andoffended. The artist, after all, makes usfeel more human. And that, I suppose,is always going to be a mixed bag.

In this issue of Alabama Arts, theCouncil spotlights a few of the manyindividual artists living in our state.First and foremost, our aim is to paytribute to the work they do and thecontributions they make to our way oflife in Alabama. Second, we wouldlike for more people to be aware of theartistic work produced in Alabama aswell as its creators. It is enlighteningto see the roles they assume withintheir communities, their efforts toenhance education and their accom-plishments. Finally, the Council feelsit is important to promote artists andtheir work in every way possible.

Too often we assume that artisticquality must be imported from NewYork or the West Coast. Nothingcould be further from the truth.Alabama has accomplished profession-al artists who are excelling in the visu-al, performing and literary arts. Quitea number of them are of national andinternational stature. Artists work inour schools and universities. They areactive in cities and small townsthroughout the state. They work insolitude and in collaboration withothers. Some continue traditions thathave been part of Alabama’s culturefor centuries. Others are at the cuttingedge of technology and creative explo-ration. Alabama’s landscape is reflect-ed in the work of artists from everydiscipline. Their work makes Alabamaa better place in which to live.

Al Head is Executive Directorof the Alabama State Council

on the Arts.

Alabama State Councilon the Arts Staff

Al Head, EX E C U T I V E DI R E C T O R

Bill Bates, DE P U T Y DI R E C T O R

Joey Brackner,FO L K L I F E PR O G R A M MA N A G E R

Georgine Clarke,VI S U A L ART S PR O G R A M MA N A G E R

Wanda DeJarnette, GR A N T S OF F I C E R

Barbara Edwards, ART S I N ED U C AT I O N

PR O G R A M MA N A G E R

Vinnie Jones, PR O G R A M S AS S I S TA N T

John Meyers, GA L L E RY AS S I S TA N T

Becky Mullen, PE R F O R M I N G ART S

PR O G R A M MA N A G E R

Randy Shoults, CO M M U N I T Y DE V E L O P M E N T

A N D LI T E R AT U R E PR O G R A M S MA N A G E R

Dexter Smith, SE C U R I T Y

Liz Thompson,AD M I N I S T R AT I V E AS S I S TA N T

Rita Weathers, GR A N T S AS S I S TA N T

Alabama Center for Traditional Culture Staff

Hank Willett, DI R E C T O R

Jackie Ely, AD M I N I S T R AT I V E SE C R E TA RY

Stephen Grauberger, SP E C I A L PR O J E C T S

Anne Kimzey, FO L K L I F E SP E C I A L I S T

PartnershipsBetsy Coley, EX E C U T I V E DI R E C T O R

AL A B A M A AL L I A N C E F O R

ART S ED U C AT I O N

Jeanie Thompson, DI R E C T O R

AL A B A M A WR I T E R S’ FO R U M

Frank Setzer, DI R E C T O R

DE S I G N AL A B A M A

Individual Artists in Alabamaby AL HEAD

MADISONJonesby DON NOBLEPhotographs by Katie Lamar Smith


This last year has certainly beenan Annis Mirabilis for MadisonJones, a year of wonders. His

newest novel and tenth volume of fic-tion, Nashville, 1864: The Dying of theLight (1997), won the newly estab-lished Michael Shaara Prize, given bythe United States Civil War Center atLouisiana State University for the bestnovel of the year written on the CivilWar.

In winning this award Jones beatout Cold Mountain by Charles Frazierand The Black Flower by Howard Bahr.Next, Jones received the highly presti-gious T.S. Eliot Award. The EliotAward is given in recognition of awriter’s life work, but was definitelyprecipitated by Nashville, as the NobelPrize for literature is precipitated by an author’s newestwork. The T.S. Eliot Award, presented by the IngersollFoundation of the Ingersoll Milling Company ofRockford, Illinois, carries a prize of twenty thousanddollars. Even more astonishing and gratifying to Jonesis the list of previous winners. An international prize,its non-U.S. winners include Octavio Paz, V.S.Naipaul, Eugene Ionesco, Muriel Spark, AnthonyPowell, and Mario Vargas Llosa, while American win-ners include Richard Wilbur, Wendell Berry, GeorgeGarrett, and Walker Percy. The prize is given for liter-ary excellence but also, Jones explains, to writers whoare “upholders of the Western tradition” who strive to“maintain, uphold, strengthen social structures,” not“tear them down.” It is given to traditionalists, cultur-al conservatives in the best sense. Southerners shouldbe pleased to know that all but one of the Americanwriters have been Southern writers.

On May 7, 1999, Madison Jones attended theSecond Annual Monroeville Alabama WritersSymposium to receive the Harper Lee Award forAlabama’s Distinguished Writer.

I have had several occasions over thislast year to speak with Jones and haveasked him about this trio of awards.Jones has always been reluctant todiscuss his prizes, which in the pasthave included a RockefellerFellowship, a GuggenheimFellowship, a Sewanee ReviewWriting Fellowship and membershipin the Fellowship of SouthernWriters. Of the Shaara Award Jonesremarked wryly that besides the prize,the winner received the responsibilityof choosing the next year’s winnerfrom the three finalists, which wereall “gigantic” though very good novelsset during the Civil War.Of the T.S. Eliot Award, Jones seemedin awe. He was “delighted to become

part of that eminent string of previous winners … verypleased to be in their illustrious ranks.” They are,Jones said, “hot shots.”

The Harper Lee Award, however, was somethingspecial of a different kind. Alabama has only recentlybegun to give proper attention to its own writers, andthe Harper Lee Award, given now annually at theAlabama Writers Symposium in Monroeville, goes along way in the right direction. Jones has been a long-time acquaintance of Ms. Lee, although they have notcommunicated much recently, and is a long-timeadmirer of To Kill a Mockingbird. He is, he says, “awful-ly gratified to receive any award with her nameattached.” There is nothing else like being honored athome, by your statewide friends and neighbors, asJones made clear in his acceptance speech in May.

Although Jones’s books have not had huge salesover the years, he has long been admired by his peers.His friend Flannery O’Connor was a fan. In separateletters to her friends she remarks, “He’s so much betterthan the ones all the shouting is about;” and of TheInnocent, “It is a very fine novel;” and “Madison Jones


teaches at Auburn. He writes good books that receiveabsolutely no notice. He has all sorts of schemes forgetting out of teaching but so far none of them havepaid off. Last spring I gave him some geese, as he saidhe would like to build up a goosetrade, but all the geese died. Hewants to try again this spring. A veryfunny man;” and “It is a shameabout his books. They are excellentand fall like lead clean out of sightthe moment they are published.”

Nashville has definitely not fallenout of sight, however, even though itwas published by a very small press. Iasked Jones why he chose J. S.Sanders and Co. of Nashville, otherthan the wonderful symmetry ofhaving a book published inNashville by a Nashville boy, aboutthe Battle of Nashville. Jones repliedthat he had given it to his agent topeddle in New York City but as timepassed he had become impatient.Sanders, Jones said, loved the novel and promised topromote it. Jones thought, “Nashville is the placewhere it happens, so it would do well there.” Thenovel has done well in Nashville and, obviously,everywhere else.

Jones, while not exactly an Alabama native, hastoiled in this state’s literary vineyards for a very longtime. He retired in 1987 from Auburn University afterteaching there since 1956. Jones was Professor ofEnglish and then Writer-in-Residence at Auburn.Before teaching at Auburn, he taught at MiamiUniversity of Ohio and the University of Tennessee.Jones had left off writing a Ph.D. dissertation at theUniversity of Florida to complete a novel, TheInnocent, instead. The Innocent (1957) is set inTennessee not far from the Nashville where Jones wasborn in 1925 and in the countryside outside Nashville

where Jones was raised before he moved to Nashvilleand attended Vanderbilt University; he graduated in1949 after studying under Donald Davidson, one ofthe original thirteen Agrarian poets and philosophers

of I’ll Take My Stand. Jones thenstudied under another Agrarian,Andrew Lytle, at the University ofFlorida, and the attraction of the tra-ditional Southern agrarian way oflife to which he was born, bred, andeducated has never waned for Jones.Even today, Jones might be on his82-acre “farm” outside of Auburnfeeding his nineteen whiteface cows.“In the winter I go out there everythird day or so to feed them andgenerally be friendly to them.” Inthe summer he goes every day andspends time with his cattle and inthe cabin he built on the propertywith his son, perhaps writing. In anycase, Jones stays close to the land, asa good agrarian should.

The land on which The Innocent takes place, theland on which Jones grew up, and the battlefield onwhich Nashville, 1864 takes place, is all the same land.Jones only had to move his grandfather’s cabin acrossthe Cumberland River to place his protagonist in themiddle of the battle.

This protagonist is, in fact, a twelve-year-old boy.Jones uses in Nashville, in a surprisingly fresh manner,a narrative device as old as fiction itself. In the“Foreword,” a speaker explains that he is passing on tous, the readers, a memoir, written by his paternalgrandfather, Steven Moore. The document has lain inthe family attic, in a trunk, since 1900, and now thegrandson is sharing it with us. His grandfather wrotethe memoir at the age of forty-eight, about eventswhich happened to him at the age of twelve. Thevoice, then, is not of Huckleberry Finn, but the voice,

There is nothing else like being honored at home,by your statewide friends and neighbors…


vision, and vocabulary of a mature, seasoned, experi-enced man, remembering traumatic events of hischildhood.

Steven’s twelfth year is a violent, dangerous one.His father is with the ConfederateArmy attacking Nashville. Steven’ssister is seriously ill. Steven and hisblack slave companion and bestfriend, Dink, set out to find CaptainMoore, an impossible task in theconfusion of war, and in the processgo through hell. They are wanderingthrough this grotesque landscape onDecember 15 and 16 of 1864, thevery days of the Battle of Nashville.

Jones packs an astonishing amountinto this petite, 129-page book.Steven sees the suffering of theConfederate soldiers. Most are bare-foot in the winter cold, “withswollen, scarred and discolored, use-less-looking feet. Men in rags, in bit-ter ice and rain.” And yet thesestarving men, with nothing at all to eat but crushedgoobers in a kind of porridge and “coffee” made ofground-up acorns, fight on. Some men have been dri-ven past their limits. Steven encounters a man, clearlyshell-shocked, who is missing two fingers and whothinks his limbs are falling off. “I don’t know where Ilost them. Sometimes I look and it’s a leg gone.Eve’thing going, a piece at a time.” Steven happens ona military hospital and there, especially, witnessesthings which he cannot bear, which wound him forev-er. The sounds of the wounded, their moans andscreams are horrible, but especially, “It was what I sawby the side of the house beneath a broken window: agory pile as high as my waist of severed arms and legs.Even as I stood there in my tracks agape, another, a legwith half a thigh, dropped from the window andbloodily tumbled to the ground at the edge of the pile.”

As any novel about the Civil War must be,Nashville is in part about the issues of slavery and race.Dink, Steven’s black companion, early in the noveldeclares, “I’m a Confederate.” But after Dink and

Steven witness a firefight in which aunit of Confederates ambush andthen slaughter a regiment of blackUnion troops, things change. Dinkhas a kind of an epiphany, identifieswith the black Yankee troops anddons a “black and sullen mask.” Thesplit between them is permanent;Dink is no longer a Confederate.

Part of the response to Nashville inearly reviews was that Jones paintstoo rosy a picture of slavery.Although Jones does not want to bemisunderstand as an apologist for theinstitution of slavery, he believes ithas been presented mainly in astereotypical, sensational fashion.“Slavery in the Old South variedgreatly,” Jones says. “It was not a

uniform thing…. On large, coastal plantations perhapsit was cruel, but among those yeoman farmers whoowned one or two families of slaves, there was an inti-macy.” Jones has long resented that television shows,movies, and many novels in the tradition of UncleTom’s Cabin perpetually depict masters and overseerswhipping slaves. “You would think they spent all theirtime whipping slaves.” I asked Jones, in the light of hisgreat success with this novel, why it had taken himuntil his mid-seventies to write about the Civil War.He replied that he “never expected to” write aboutthe war because, growing up with his grandfather whohad been alive and suffered during the war andReconstruction as a little boy, “It has always been arather painful subject to me. He had always been “veryconscious that we lost.” Yankees had come to thehouse and stolen their food. Madison admits that helikes best to read about the Civil War “battles where

Jones stays close to the land,as a good agrarian should.


we won.” Once he got started on this book though, bysimply imagining what might have befallen his grand-father had he wandered onto the battlefield, “it wenteasier than anything I’ve ever writ-ten,” Jones said.

Since he knew the terrain inti-mately the only research Jones didwas a very careful reading of TheDecisive Battle of Nashville by StanleyF. Horn (L.S.U. Press, 1956). Thiswas to make sure he got the line ofbattle and details correct. The spiritof the matter he had always known.

Over the years, Jones has beenfond of a saying of Robert PennWarren: “A writer walks around out-doors for years, hoping lightning willstrike him.” Warren meant this interms of a career, that one bookwould achieve true greatness. InJones’s career this book had been, upuntil now, A Cry of Absence (1971).This novel, set in a small Southerntown during the early days of theCivil Rights Movement, achievestruly tragic proportions. There is abrutal murder of a black civil rightsworker, and as the plot unfolds itbecomes clear to the reader and finally to the heroine,Hester Glenn, that her beloved son Cam had done itand partly because he mistakenly thought that it waswhat she wanted him to do. He has mistaken herinability to accept change, her innate conservatism,for a murderous racism which it never was. The novelhas the inevitability and finally the twin catharses ofpity and fear as surely as these elements are found inSophocles’ Oedipus Rex.

Jones remarked that the novel has been perpetuallyunder option to one Hollywood entity or another, butfor one reason or another has not yet been made. He

has high hopes, however. Another Jones novel, AnExile (1967), my personal favorite, was made into ahighly successful Hollywood feature, I Walk the Line,

starring Gregory Peck and TuesdayWeld with title song composed andsung by Johnny Cash. In this book,an honorable, decent sheriffbecomes hopelessly sexually entan-gled with a moonshiner’s daughter.He thinks they are in love, neversuspecting that he is being used,conned, toyed with by ruthless peo-ple. This story of lust, sin, and obses-sion is very much in the mode ofmost of Jones’ fiction.

Jones’s favorite author and oneabout whom he has written journalarticles is Nathaniel Hawthorne.He who would understand Jonesmight do well to read Hawthorne,for they share the same vision. Menare weak; they are tempted; theysin. But men also have consciencesand so they know they have donewrong and they suffer as only moralcreatures can suffer. To Jones, evil isreal and walks the earth, in formsmany have to contend with on aday-to-day basis: ruthless killers,

drug dealers, the soul-less.Jones continues to reside in Auburn with his wife,

Shailah McEvilly Jones, whom he married in 1951.They have raised five children. When I asked Jones ifhe planned to “raise” another novel, he at first saidno, but then admitted that yes, the Civil War novelhad piqued his interest in Reconstruction, and that hehad begun an eleventh book of fiction set during thatera, but that he had to stop to read more. We can alllook forward to it.

Don Noble is Professor of English at the University ofAlabama and host of APT’s Bookmark

BIBLIOGRAPHYThe Innocent

New York, Harcourt Brace, 1957.

Forest of the NightNew York, Harcourt Brace, 1960.

A Buried LandNew York, Viking Press, 1963.

An ExileNew York, Viking Press, 1967.

A Cry of AbsenceNew York, Crown, 1971.

Passage through GehennaBaton Rouge, Louisiana State

University Press, 1978.

Season of the StranglerNew York, Doubleday, 1982.

Last ThingsBaton Rouge, Louisiana State

University Press, 1989.

To the WindsAtlanta, Longstreet Press, 1996.

Nashville, 1864:The Dying of the Light

Nashville, J. S. Sanders and Co., 1997.

from Contemporary Southern Writers,St. James Press,1999

“A writer walks around outdoors for years,hoping lightning will strike him.”

ROBERT PENN WARREN


IN STEP&IN TIMELaura Knox, a professional dancer since 1940 and a dance

teacher and artistic director in Alabama since 1960, interviewed

three artistic directors of Alabama dance companies about their

post-performance careers. Wes Chapman, Alabama Ballet;

Winthrop Corey, Mobile Ballet; and Teri Weksler, Southern

Danceworks, talked about their lives as dancers of international

stature and how their careers continue in Alabama.

Mar

tha

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ope,

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ity

The principal dancer or soloist is the epitome of the

dedicated, disciplined, individual artist.

Wes Chapman and Amanda McKerrowin the American Ballet Theater production

of Romeo and Juliet.

Winthrop Corey in the Pas de deux of the RoyalWinnipeg Ballet production of The Black Swan.

Teri Weksler and Daniel Lewis inDoris Humphrey’s Nightspell.

Mira


LAURA KNOX: Howdid you come to liveand work in Alabama? WINTHROP COREY:“Winnipeg (RoyalBallet) brought me upfrom day one in a balletcompany as a principaldancer. Then I joinedNational Ballet ofCanada when Nureyevcame and set his SleepingBeauty, and I was ableto tour with him for fouryears. Those years were great!Winnipeg was 30 dancers and 12musicians; National was 64 dancersand 55 musicians. Both experiencesshaped me and let me dance a lot.”

Corey started a company in RhodeIsland and began to do a lot of guestwork, teaching and choreographing.Referred by the Joffrey Ballet, hechoreographed The Nutcracker forMobile Ballet 12 years ago, then hedirected Mobile’s spring repertory per-formance, and the school year-endperformance. When the board invitedhim to make Mobile a permanenthome, Corey accepted with the stipu-lation that he be allowed to continueteaching with the Joffrey Ballet everysummer. “I teach the eight-week sum-mer course in New York. It’s a secondhome to me and a wonderful resourcebecause we don’t have as many menas we need in Mobile, so I’m able toget the students to come to Mobile towork.”

LAURA: And at this point, how isyour career evolving?

WINTHROP: “Wonderfully. I’mdoing really everything I want to do.I’ve had a board of directors that hasconsistently supported me with mydreams and they make them cometrue for me. Not that we don’t strug-gle for money, which is part of whatwe do daily, but they’ve allowed me tostage and produce all of the full-length ballets, which is what Mobilecries and clamors for.

“They allowed me to take a chancewith the first full-length original thatI’ve ever done, Dracula. They gaveme the chance to do it even though itmight fail. I didn’t know if it wouldwork or not; you never do. In your

head it works; in yourliving room you can seeevery New York Cityballet dancer theredoing the steps, thenyou get in the studioand it’s another story. Sowe do dream alongthose lines.

“Also, I’m able toguest teach. I do a lot ofit and I enjoy it very,very much. I enjoy see-ing dancers all over the

country, and so I’m very fortunate andI credit my board over the years forallowing me to grow and continuewith what I do.”LAURA: Now let’s go to Teri. Tell ushow you came to live and work inAlabama.TERI WEKSLER: “I came toAlabama from Boston after dancingwith the Mark Morris dance group foryears and years. They went to Brusselsto be company in residence and so Icommuted from Boston to Brussels.

“My husband got a job at CobbTheaters as Chief Financial Officerdown here and that’s why we movedto Alabama. I did White Oak fromhere, after doing the Hard Nut inBrussels. Then I was inCanada doing things likeBallets Canadiens as anassistant to Mark–all sinceI’ve been in Birmingham.

“I did some choreogra-phy for SouthernDanceworks (which I nevercould have thought I woulddo, especially after dancingwith Mark, who is so bril-liant) and I then decided totry artistic directing, whichis what I’m attempting todo now.

“I’m doing the work of too manypeople. I have a Board that is really,really trying to get something doneand we at this point have a personwho is training the Board on how tobe more efficient and make thingswork.

“As for making a living, that’s OK,I can supplement. It’s not great, but indoing other things, teaching, goingother places, I can kind of make that

work. They’re paying me a salary(Southern Danceworks) and I don’tthink they’ve done that for a longtime. That’s something. LAURA: You’re doing some touringin the state?TERI: “Yes, we’ve done all kinds ofstuff. We’ve done things with thesymphony and trying to grow ouraudience and we’ve done the ruralschool tour, which is fabulous gettingout into Alabama cities. We did FirstNight in Mobile and we’ve done a lotof things to try to grow our audienceand get community involvement. ButI don’t know that it works.

“The unanswered question is‘What’s going to happen with mod-ern?’ I want to see state schools,including the fine arts school[Alabama School of Fine Arts] have amodern program. I think we needthat. I am working on that. We’re allworking on that, in the company.

“I think its rough in Birminghamwith the modern dance world. I try toimplement three shows a year so wehave a consistent performing sched-ule... and I teach classes. But its hardto get people who are really interestedin taking modern dance classes inBirmingham.”

LAURA: And yourcareer is evolving?TERI: “Well, yeah.I’ve reached aplateau in how mycareer is evolvingexcept for the factthat I’m being askedto do other things.I’m teaching atBirmingham-Southern this semes-ter, which is great. LAURA: Whatabout you, Wes?

WES CHAPMAN: “Unlike the othertwo, I’m from Alabama. I grew up inUnion Springs and went toMontgomery Ballet for my first balletlesson. I graduated from the AlabamaSchool of Fine Arts, so I had a rela-tionship in Birmingham right away. Idanced in the Alabama Ballet for ayear and danced for ABT [AmericanBallet Theatre] for 13 years after that.Then I spent a couple of years in

Winthrop Corey

Laura Knox


Munich dancing with the BavarianNational Ballet. Europeans have agreat appreciation for the arts, so itwas a great experience. I got the jobin Alabama just when the time wasright: Sonia (Arova) and Thor(Sukowski) were leaving and I wasabout ready to get out of dancing fulltime.

“My career has evolved tremen-dously in the past three years as artis-tic director for the Alabama Ballet. Isuppose I stepped into it somewhatnaively. To go from the Met stage, lit-erally, in April toBirmingham in July as theartistic director, was a veryquick evolution.

“I have the opportunityto perform with the compa-ny, but it’s extremely diffi-cult for me to direct anddance. I’m doing somechoreography, which I’venever done before andnever thought I would. I’vebecome a bit more wellrounded; I understand howdifficult it is to do a ballet.My evolution with people skills hasturned out to be extremely important,and not necessarily difficult, but I’vehad a lot of things to learn about that.And I’ve generally learned them thehard way.” LAURA: I recall some of your speech-es before performances. I marvel atthe ease with which you are able tospeak to the audience...WES: “Thank you. I have practicedthat just doing it more andmore–being on television and thattype thing. Becoming a salesman aswell as a director and choreographer;those things were not on my platewhen I was dancing, so my evolutionhas been massive and wonderful andenlightening and I’m glad I’ve doneit.” TERI: “Making the transition frombeing a performer into the nextphase–whatever that is–is an extremely difficult thing to do, Ithink. It’s made easier, in a way, bydoing something like I did taking overSouthern Danceworks. It’s an interest-ing way of re-channeling a lot of theenergy and passion of performing.”

WINTHROP: “So many dancers real-ly don’t know what to do after theystop dancing.”TERI: “Isn’t there a big agency nowthat deals with that?”WINTHROP: “Yes, In Torontothere’s a dancers’ transition center, itis fabulous. A lot of my colleagues areinvolved and they counsel others.”TERI: “I think we’re lucky to be ableto have something that is directlyrelated to what we were doing. Areyou dancing?”WINTHROP: “No.”

TERI: “Not dancing.I find that reallytough, terribly diffi-cult. I should not beon stage anymorebut I can’t get myselfoff stage. Somebody’sgot to get the caneand drag me off.” WINTHROP:“When I was inRhode Island, whenmy wife and I hadthe company, Idanced and directed,

too. But she was watching therehearsal while I was dancing. Eventhen it was difficult, because you haveto see your company. I had to get offstage. Since I was creating and castingthem I had to see themfrom the front; thewings is a whole differ-ent story.”LAURA: Would thetransition away fromdancing be differentsomewhere else? Teri?TERI: “I think it wouldbe different for me.More intensely, maybe,than for y’all. Because‘somewhere else’ wouldprobably have a univer-sity with a pretty big,fabulous dance department that wouldhire me to teach, or something likethat. I’d be in a slot instead of havingto define my own place. There wouldprobably be a pool of dancers whowould be real interested in doingmodern and much more communityinterest in seeing a modern danceshow.

“On the other hand, in that situa-tion, I probably wouldn’t have startedchoreographing, so that’s one plus. Iprobably wouldn’t have been an artis-tic director in any other place either. Ijust imagined myself teaching in auniversity or enough private classes tomake a living doing that. WINTHROP: “You end up doing alot of things you never thought youwould. I never would have thought ofmaking a tutu, and now I have a fairlythriving business making tutus. Imade sixty of the costumes you saw inDracula.”LAURA: Is this because you must?WINTHROP: “When I started, yes,because we had no one else to do it.But it became a passion. When I’mat my sewing machine I’m at my hap-piest.”LAURA: You obviously have the abil-ity to re-invent yourself . . .WES: “Most people emerge naturally.You know, Teri comes out of perform-ing and goes into directing. It’s natur-al; she’s made for it. I’m the samecase, just as with you, Winthrop.”TERI: “I don’t feel so much that I’mmade for all of it. Laura was describ-ing how well you speak. I want to saywhat I think; I don’t want to have tothink about it before I say it. I’m notpolitical in the way that I need to be

political. I don’t likethat about my job.”WINTHROP: “A hugepart of the job isfundraising and meetingwith people, gettingthem to understandwhat you want and whyyou want it and maybethey’ll want it.”LAURA: And you’rethe only one who cantell them about theexperience.WINTHROP:

“Absolutely. My board members grabme and they say, ‘Look, I’ll presentthe money side of it but you have totalk about what you’re doing. Youhave the passion; you have to givethat to them, even to these big busi-nessmen.’

“We’re the product. That’s whatthey see first, usually. We invite peo-

Teri Weksler

Wes Chapman


ple into the the-atre to see whatthe company lookslike in the hopesthat they will besponsors. Thatoffice meeting isimportant.”LAURA:Winthrop, canyou make a living?WINTHROP:“Yes. Yes, myboard is very goodto me. Yes,absolutely. Thecost of living inMobile is very dif-ferent than therest of the country.What I pay inproperty taxes formy house annually is what I paid for amonth in Rhode Island. I believe myliving is consistent with what I’mdoing. We’d all like to make moremoney, but I’m able to supplementthe income because I’m able to go outand do guesting and I always have thetitle as the artistic director of theMobile Ballet with me so it’s a creditto the company. They enjoy my trav-eling and allow it and it’s a very, verygood relationship.”WES: “Am I making a living?Birmingham is a lot cheaper, but Idon’t make ABT salaries any longer.I’m making a living.”LAURA: Does that count a great dealfor all of you, to be making thatliving, or certainly making a comfort-able living?WINTHROP: “I think it does. Ithink it’s important. At my stage inmy life, I’ve worked very hard and weall certainly put in the hours and theyears like lawyers and doctors do asprofessionals but we certainly don’tget that kind of recognition.”LAURA: What about artistic stan-dards?WINTHROP: “I think we all haveour teachers to thank for what wehave. And hopefully that’s what we’regiving to our students. I was verylucky to have some wonderful, won-derful teachers. They taught me astandard, and my job is to pass it on.

I’m very, very serious about that.Classes are conducted in certain waysand rehearsals are treated as profes-sional.

“If they (students) walk in the doorand they want to do ballet, they’reready for it. If not, they leave. But theones who stay want to be serious.”WES: “My standards are way toohigh. They’re unrealistically high, butthat’s because I put that kind of pres-sure on myself as a professional.”WINTHROP: “Are you talking abouthow your dancers are dancing . . .?”WES: “No, they work very well, it’snot that. I just expect so much out ofthem and I’m just unrealistic.” WINTHROP: “Kids teach you somuch working with them. I’ve hadsome of them for twelve years. Youlook at these young faces and youknow what they can handle, andwhat they can’t. You relax a little bitwith it because you realize there arecertain things you can do, and certainthings you cannot do.” TERI: “And you know when they’redoing their best. And that’s wonderful.”WINTHROP: “I looked at my swansthe other night (we were doing SwanLake) and said, ‘Kids there’s only oneway to do this.’ I said, ‘Nutcracker issomething else, because it’s my chore-ography and we get away with certainthings. But with Swan Lake, we’redoing a ballet and we’re going to do it

right, and this isthe way it’s done.’

“They are readyfor it. Some of theknees aren’t exactlyas straight as youlike, but they dorise to that chal-lenge. I have foundthat over the years.They want it, andif you present it tothem in a profes-sional manner andyou want it forthem, they know itand they will do itfor you. They reallywill.

“Everybody saysto me, ‘Oh, youcan’t put them in

short tutus.’ But you know it’s surpris-ing, you see less knees in short tutusthan in a long tutu. In a long tutu youlook at the feet and you go, ‘Oh, goodgrief.’ In a short tutu, you look at thetutus, you look at that line, and youreally don’t go below, unless there’sonly one or two on the stage.”LAURA: What would you like tosee happen in the long term for yourstudents?TERI: “I would like to see some stu-dents, put it that way.”WINTHROP: “I think in Mobilewe’re on the right track. It’s been avery hard road to come down to getan audience, a base of an audiencewho will come and see anything thatyou produce. Not just Sleeping Beautyand Romeo and Juliet and all thosethings, but when you do a rep showand even Dracula. Luckily, we had awonderful turn out because we arebuilding a base and my base is for mystudents.

“We have a school that has about240 students in it now and it’s all bal-let. I wish I had a modern teacher andhad that level that’s required takingcertain classes to do a modern pro-gram. I want to maintain the qualitythat we’ve built in Mobile. I hope wehave it, I think we do. I’ve beentraining the teachers over the years.My senior dancers in the companyteach in the school, and I have a


wonderful ballet mistress, Anne Duke,who teaches as well.

“I want to be in five years probablywhere Wes is now, in that I pay moreof my dancers on a full-time basis.We’re minimal right now payingsalaries to our dancers. We’re workingtowards that and so many things areinvolved in getting there. It’s a Catch22 situation; if you tour you guaranteeyour income but you can’t tour unlessyou’re paying your dancers. So theboard is doing long-range planninglooking at that. We have the orches-tra in place, we have the ballets inplace, we have the school in place. Sonow it’s the dancers’ turn; they’realways last.”LAURA: The Alabama SymphonyOrchestra conductor said at a recentconcert that he wants the symphonyorchestra to be part of the wholecommunity. It used to be there was anelite audience that would come toballet and classical music perfor-mances but I know you all are work-ing to make dance a part of your com-munity and the whole state.WINTHROP: “We do a ‘DiscoverDance’ program where we bus in theschool children. We had six thousandschool children see Nutcracker and formost of them it was the first time theyhad ever seen dance. They will keepthat experience, because it’s proventhat they will come back. Now a lotof our audience are teenage dates. Wedo polls, we do surveys, and we havefound that some of the children sawus in the sixth grade through a‘Discover Dance’ program and nowthey’re back with a date. It’s our wayof reaching out to get the broadestaudience. The arts are elite, they real-ly are. We will be remembered by ourarts through the ages. That’s howwe’re judged.”LAURA: “What about your connec-tion to another community–the com-munity of dancers?WINTHROP: “I’ve been lucky tokeep that connection to New York. Irun into so many colleagues and findout what they’re doing around thecountry.”LAURA: I know Teri does, too.TERI: “Yes. I am less connected else-where now that Southern

Danceworks is so prevalent in my life.That part of my career has lessened.What I would really love to do, andwhat I was thinking this dance com-munity needs, is to have more peoplefrom the world dance communiy pre-sented in the state. I’d like to seemore dancers and more teachers comehere. I need that to be stimulated andI want my dancers and all my studentsto have that. I can go to see MarkMorris in Atlanta in two weeks, but Ican’t bring them here. I don’t havethe power to do that.”LAURA: Wes, what do you want tosee happen in the long term for yourstudents?WES: “I really don’t have students atthis point other than my apprenticedancers. We’re going to open a schooland I’m really looking forward to that.My goal for the young dancers thatI’ve been pushing and working is tobe in companies, and to be gooddancers in those companies.”TERI: “I asked my Birmingham-Southern students, ‘What do youwant to do now? What is the nextstep for you?’ Very few of them want-ed to be performers. Although quite afew of them had the talent. Theywere asking, ‘Where are we going togo? What are we going to do?’”WES: “Do they want dance-relatedcareers or not?”TERI: “It’s totally missing from theireducation. They have no idea whereto go or what they can do in moderndance. They want to know ‘Wherecan we go to do a modern dance pro-gram in the summer? What compa-nies could we go to? Where are therestrong regional companies in mod-ern?’”WES: “In a Dance USA meeting inHouston last week I talked to direc-tors and said, ‘Who’s looking for tallgirls, the first year level?’ Theyresponded, and others were lookingfor medium girls or whatever. Mycommunity has grown tremendouslysince I got involved in Dance USA;it’s completely changed. Actuallysome of my dancer friends are turninginto directors as well so that’s kind ofcool.

“I’m getting to know the peoplethat are above me in terms of 20 years

as a director. My community hasgrown that way tremendously, but I’vehad to make the effort at that. I’vehad to attend those meetings, go toHouston, and do that kind of thing.Hopefully I can avoid sending youngdancers all over the country, audition-ing for places that aren’t looking foranybody like them and focus it downto where they need to go, rather thanwhere they think they should go. AndI can give them guidance.”LAURA: What about the future foryour students for dancing inAlabama?WES: “It’s opportunities; we’re notproviding them in Alabama for thepeople that I’m training. One or twomay go into a company, but I’ve goteighteen apprentices.”WINTHROP: “We’re a step behindhim. I pay five, and so they’re goingoff because I can’t keep them. I wouldlike to get to the eighteen so more ofthem could stay. The job opportuni-ties right now are not in Alabama,they’re elsewhere.”TERI: “I’m twenty-five steps behindyou because I can’t pay anybody (asalary). I do pay my dancers, I’m veryadamant on that point, but I offer nocontract.”WES: “You know, I was thinking onthe way over here that I’m very inter-ested in what we can do in co-produc-tions, sharing teachers or master class-es, and performance opportunities.”WINTHROP: “Yes. Sharing produc-tions. I bring you in and you bring usin, that kind of thing. Or doing half aprogram in Mobile, the other half inBirmingham. It’s important.”TERI: “My dancers have worked withWes’s on occasions.”LAURA: I think even bringingtogether half a program of ballet andmodern dance . . .WES: “It’s the wave of the future. It’stough to make it on your own, peoplehave got to start sharing.”

Interview photos by Kim Deale


South Mobile County is a rapidly growing

previously farming and seafood area,

where millionaires live next to poverty

trailer parks. The area is undergoing rapid popu-

lation growth. The wealthy buy tracts of land,

put deductible cattle behind a board fence, and

build a house on a distant hill. Their neighbors

might not have air conditioning, and occasion-

ally some stand in the middle of the road to

catch a ride to town. There is intense isolation

and prideful privacy.

Leaders in the community had struggled for

years to place a new high school here. The old

Bayou La Batre school, Alba, and Grand Bay

High had been mired in outdated and over-

crowded conditions for too long. Both suffered

more than 30 percent dropout and high teen

pregnancy rates. Barely 25 percent of Grand

Bay adults graduated from high school. The

Bayou had recently been inundated by Asian

immigrants. In this diverse and divided area, a

new school was planned, and it was just a

mile-and-a-half away from my house, as the

crow flies.

Before the school opened, Ms. Hagler and I

knew it would take powerful forces to make it

a success. We were working on a Merging of

Cultures effort and when we approached the

school leadership for matching funds and

access, they encouraged us to teach what we

do to students.

My century-old cottage, the last dwelling

above a thousand acres of swamp, had been

recently transplanted from an elite area of

Mobile, and I was the first to recommission it as

a dwelling. I cleared the land near it and began

assisting in the management of the huge estate

Merging Talents,Merging Cultures

TEXT BY PEGGY DENNISTON

Calling their collaboration Top of the Hill, Peggy Denniston andSheila Hagler worked as a writer/photographer team for several years,

mainly providing images and articles for publications in Mobile andsurrounding cities. In time, they turned their attention to the regionwhere they live and work. Not content to document conditions intheir community, they use their skills and talents as artists to bringabout change through a program they call “Merging of Cultures.”

She

ila H

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Toby the dog and Cleo the cat in front of the trailer darkroom where students learned to makeproof sheets, small enlargements, and finally fine art fiber prints.


surrounding it. There is not another human

between South America and me.

Ms. Hagler and I set up a darkroom in a

1953 tag-a-long trailer we placed beside my cot-

tage. It’s about a half a mile from the estate’s

original tenant farmhouse where Ms. Hagler

and her two daughters live.

•

Even though almost everyone has a camera,

most people don’t have any understanding of

what is involved in fine art photography. We

hear, “Oh, I just love black and white,” but they

don’t know why it’s so beautiful. One reason we

are teaching in Mobile County’s newest high

school is to serve as missionaries for our art

form, demonstrating gelatin silver print making.

Our students go through the entire process from

developing their own film to hanging the exhi-

bitions.

•

The darkroom is the place where students

apply math, chemistry, and geometry while

making artistic decisions. It’s a creative scien-

tific laboratory. Students have to adjust the

magnification of the enlarging lenses, compen-

sate for light fall-off on the edges of large prints,

and determine the time for each exposure.

They also have to follow rules. Ms. Hagler

stood outside the door horrified a few times,

“What if they forget to close up the paper box

before they turn on the light? It could be

ruined.”

Photographing the Ellicott Stone was part

of the school-to-work aspect of the program.

Whenever Top of the Hill is contacted for com-

mercial work, they turn the jobs over to the stu-

dents. “There is a tenuous balance between

coaching them and yielding to their freedom of

expression,” explained Ms. Hagler. She gathers

extra cameras and film, hauls the gear and the

teens to the location, and then talks each stu-

dent through the aspects of exposing the film.

•

By far the most painful part of the program

for the students is the writing. While most high

school papers are written, graded, and returned,

our compositions go through processes almost as

extensive as the photography. I call our tech-

nique “reciprocal editing.” I encourage the edi-

tors to be brutal, and the writers to defend their

words. Students suggest alternate wording, and,

as they settle upon possible rephrasing, they

write-in the changes. The dictionaries get

passed around. Since everyone suffers through

the same process, they eventually overcome

their self-consciousness.

•

From “Hay,”

by Asa Davidson

When the media photography class took a

field trip to the Williams’ farm, each student

was given a different subject to photograph and

write about. I was given a piece of paper with a

list of words. The words on the list were all

related to hay. I really didn’t know that or know

much about the subject except for helping once

to put square bales into storage….

After they cut the hay, they have to let it

lay out on the ground for several days. When

it is good and dry, they rake it into windrows

and then bale it. The hay is rolled into round

bales and wrapped with string. Each bale

weighs about 1,000 pounds. It’s unrolled for

feeding, almost like toilet paper, unrolled

across a yard. One round bale of hay will feed

15 cows for one day… .

Ms. Denniston and Ms. Hagler discuss thefunctions of the students’ Russian cameras.

Carrie Eldrige, (left) views the waist-levelviewfinder. Asa Davidson looks on and Paul

Herrera (right) winds film.

Rac

hael

Cra

wle

y

Paul Herrera listens as Ms. Hagler explainsthe concepts of ratios in mixing chemicals for

film processing.

Rac

hael

Cra

wle

y

Ms. Hagler monitors Elizabeth Peyregne’s useof the Hasselblad camera. Asa Davidson

(foreground) is next in line to use it.

Pau

l Her

rera

Shown in a hay field, the first semester stu-dents included (left to right) Asa Davidsonleaning in front of Ms Denniston, ElizabethPeyregne, Tiffany Holt, Cody Stanley, Louise

Mosely, Jennifer Barrett, Sage McCollum.

She

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agle

r


After I asked Cheryl about hay, I learned

most of the words on my list…. Cheryl told us

that they plant Rye grass, a thick winter grass.

During the summer, they grow Bahia and

Bermuda grasses. The cattle graze these, but

some fields are set aside for hay…. We saw

Cheryl raking the hay into windrows. She

explained that the hay would be put into sheds

for storage so it won’t get wet.

•

From “Farm Facilities,”

by Sage McCollum

Stout pens, beyond the sheds and barn,

have several uses. When calves are old enough

to be weaned from their dams, they are separat-

ed in the catch pen. This is also where cattle

that are going to market can be singled out and

Ms. Denniston working with Asa in the hay field.

She

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agle

r

Asa’s photo of Cheryl Williamson the tractor.

“Cattle Chute,” a photo by Sage Mccollum, was a Judge’s Choice Winner in the regional awardsof the State Arts Council’s Visual Arts Achievement Program.


held. One narrow chute leads from a holding

area up a concrete ramp so the cattle can be

loaded on a truck….

•

Fine art materials are expensive. Even the

acid free mat board used in framing the prints is

hard to turn over to inexperienced hands. It’s

much easier for the students to cut the mats to

size than for them to cut the angled windows.

We use fractions of inches in measuring the

windows and drawing them out. I always cringe

when they struggle to pull the blade through

the thick mats. Mat cutting is another thing we

start practicing early.

•

We’ve gained as much from these experi-

ences as the students have. We’ve met more

people and gained more trust and respect from

working at the school. And we are finally get-

ting the insider’s view we sought; the students

and parents are letting us into their lives.

We got carried away and spent too much

time and money on this project. But it was so

important that we show everyone how using

the skills we impart can enhance the education

process, especially this first year. We’ve had to

create spectacular exhibits, somewhat at our

own expense. It didn’t leave enough time for

our own work.

•

“Reaction,”

by Louise Mosely

The drive-by shooting which left my broth-

er wounded and cousin dead, had an incredible

impact on my family. Five Asian gang members

chose my neighborhood, which is made up of

my family, to go through to commit their “gang

initiations.”

My grandmother, baby and I used to sit on

the front porch at night and talk. Since the

shooting we rarely walk outside after dark. I’m

more conscious of where my son is and what

he’s doing. My family is much closer now. We

came together as we grieved and continue to

get along as we heal.

Ms. Denniston shows Mary Porter andRachael Crawley how to cut mats.

Asa

Dav

idso

n

Ms. Denniston lining up the framed piecesfor the exhibition.

She

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agle

r

Loui

se M

osel

y

The road where Louise lives.

Latisha, Louise’s cousin andsister of the drive-by shooting victim.

Loui

se M

osel

y


My cousin Kenny’s sister, 20-year-old

Latisha, stays with us now. She comes home in

the evening from her place of employment,

Comar Foods, Inc., and she goes walking with

my child and me. This surprises me because she

used to be very arrogant. Now she walks in the

room and she actually speaks!

The young people in our neighborhood are

scared to walk up the road anytime, day or

night. Especially the young black men, as they

feel the shooting was a hate crime against the

African-American community.

When my friends and family go places, we

automatically get upset and enraged when we

see Asian-Americans. I don’t want to hate

them, but when I think about what happened

to my cousin and my brother the feeling of

anger just overwhelms me. I pray every night

that these feelings be taken out of my heart.

Hate won’t bring Kenny back and it won’t solve

the problems today’s youth have with gang-

related crimes.

•

From “Our First Assignment”

by Paul Herrera

We went on stage behind the curtains to

photograph everyone at the Mobile Area Mardi

Gras Association king and queen coronation.

We shot the people as they were readying

themselves: some were fixing their trains to

look just so, and some were trying to find where

they needed to stand.

•

From “Sidney’s”

by Elizabeth Peyregne

From his bedside, Mr. Irby asked my dad to

come back to work at the restaurant. So he did,

and he has worked for the Irby’s ever since that

night. But Mr. Irby died that Christmas Eve. A

year later, the renewal for the contract with

“Crispy chick” came up. My dad met with the

Irby family to discuss the situation. They also

owned two other restaurants in Mobile. John

Irby, Mr. Irby’s son, suggested that they form

their own franchise and name the stores

Sidney’s in remembrance of his father. They

voted, and six months later all three became

Sidney’s.

Mardi Gras Queen

Eliz

abet

h P

eyre

gne

Interior of Sidney’s Restaurant.

Pau

l Her

rera


PUBLIC ARTPUBLIC ARTPrivateVisions,

PublicStatements

BY GEORGINE CLARKE

Bradford T. Morton’s Sisters’ Vigil, 1997.Bronze; St. Vincent’s Hospital, Birmingham


The Business of Making ArtStep inside the very plain door marked “Private” on 1st

Ave. South in Birmingham. On the left, just inside thefront door and looking very much like sentinels, are castbronze sculptures, some with figurative elements, some

standing like stacks of melons.Directly in front of the door is a forklift the size of a small car and capableof lifting 5000 pounds. Overhead,heavy chains and hooks dangle fromsteel beams.On the right, inside a closed officespace, are stacks of paper with work-ing drawings, plans, photographs,small models of sculpture–and a bottleof hydrogen peroxide next to severalopen boxes of Band-Aids. This is aserious place; this is Brad Morton’s

studio and foundry. “When I first looked at this 5,000-square foot warehouse, I thought I could never use all thespace,” said Morton. Now the building is full.

Each distinct area has a particular function in the cre-ation of a piece of sculpture, including a furnace capable ofmelting 250 pounds of bronze at temperatures of 2100degrees. In this foundry the artist’s vision is transformedinto an object–generally a sizable and very heavy object.

What does Morton like best about the work? “I like thewhole process of bringing something into being that wasn’t

What does it mean to be a successful

artist working in Alabama today?

And what if that art is generally

large-scale sculpture planned for public places? How does

an artist establish a career, find commissions, design and

create the art, please the purchaser and the public, and

remain true to a personal artistic vision?

This is a journey through the studios and projects

of five Alabama artists who are primarily makers of large-

scale public sculpture. Their stories give some insight into

the demands and responsibilities.

Furnace in Brad Morton’s foundry.

Brad Morton’s Encounters, Corten and stainless steel, UAB campus.


there before,” he said. “Every step is my decision. It’s kindof like a baseball player–he doesn’t always hit a home run,but he always steps up to the plate.”

Morton has received commissions for public art from St.Vincent’s Hospital Foundation, The Alabama Sports Hallof Fame and the University of Alabama Birmingham. Hedesigns his forms so that the sculpture does not becomedated and lose its impact. “Every artist wants his work to beappreciated,” he said. “I generally design minimalist, under-stated shapes. People can grow to appreciate and under-stand them–to become more and more attached to them.Cutting-edge work has a certain shock value. Then a yearlater it has become dated and lost its impact. My work ismeant to last, to stand the test of time.”

In 1992 Morton created The Champion for the AlabamaSports Hall of Fame. James Nelson, art reviewer for TheBirmingham News, described the statue: “Abstractedenough to suggest several sports activities and articulatedenough to be recognized as a figure in triumph, this bronzework by Brad Morton is a successful tribute to the spiritand purpose of the Alabama Sports Hall of Fame. Mortonhas solved the difficult problem of commemorative sculp-ture by providing a form that speaks of all sports withoutidentifying any particular sport.”

Morton has made a significant investment in his foundryand fabrication equipment. He meets a regular payroll forfour assistants. He manages a continual flow of materials,projects and people. His background includes courses inindustrial design, the study of a whole realm of engineeringissues, and an MFA from the University of Georgia.

Morton’s foundry not only produces his sculpturaldesigns but also contracts to produce the designs of otherartists. Said Morton, “I tried to be realistic when I set upthis studio. I knew I wasn’t makingenough art myself to support the opera-tion, but when I started casting work forother artists I knew it could work.”

Frank Fleming, 1999 recipient of theAlabama State Council on the ArtsDistinguished Artist Award, is one ofthe artists whose pieces are cast atMorton’s foundry.

Roadside AttractionArtWurks Gallery of Fine Arts is located on U.S.

Highway 231 in Brundidge. From time to time travelershave seen a large-scale menagerie here by the side of theroad: a 13-foot rooster made of car bumpers, a catfish, analuminum bull, a horse rearing on hind legs, a pig and adog. Those animals were trailer-mounted and were made topromote Bob’s Feeds, the original family business, no longerin existence.

Brothers Larry and Ronald Godwin are the makers ofthose pieces, as well as artwork ranging from abstract metalsculpture and paintings to ceramic pieces and drawings.Larry received a Bachelor of Applied Arts degree fromAuburn University and was the first artist-in-residence inthe Alabama public school system. Ronald studied atWashington University in St. Louis and later served asapprentice to Louise Kaisch and Theodore Roszak in NewYork.

Working in a spacious warehouse in Brundidge, thebrothers have just completed a joint commission forSunroc Cay Marina in Orange Beach, Alabama. The piece,a stainless steel great blue marlin, is larger than life and isnow mounted 20 feet over a pool of bubbling water. Larrydesigned the fish, making sketches and a wax model.Ronald constructed it by first welding sheets of stainlesssteel to a basic form and then weaving finely polishedstainless steel strips to form the skin. A police escort helped

move the finished piece from Brundidgeto Orange Beach, where it occasionallycontinues to stop traffic.

The U.S. Air Force, Walt DisneyWorld and Hard Rock Cafe have alsohired Larry to create sculpture. For theKindercare headquarters in Montgom-ery he constructed a fountain sculpturetitled Carnival of the Waterbugs with 13 animated creatures.

Detail of Frank Fleming’s The Storyteller,Birmingham.

Larry Godwin’s Equinox on the campus ofAlabama State University, Montgomery


“To be an artist isn’t so bad if you cansurvive as one,” Larry comments. He iscurrently working on a major project forthe Retirement Systems of Alabama.Six bronze portrait panels and sevenhistory panels will be located in a down-town Montgomery park commemorat-ing the city’s history. Local historianschose the events and people to beincluded. Larry converted all thosechoices into the thirteen panels. Eachstep in the artist’s process (preliminarysketches, detailed drawings and model-ing in wax) needed official approval. Finally, molds weremade and the pieces cast in bronze at a Colorado foundry.

“The hardest thing for artists to come up with is cashflow—whatever they’re doing,” Larry explained. Thelengthy process of creating sculpture is very expensive, fromthe initial concept to purchasing materials to the foundrycost. He looks for partial payment at each step in theprocess.

About the construction process and the materials, “Youneed more than just a passing understanding. You can’talways force materials; I get an engineer if there’s a ques-tion of adequate support,” he said. Commenting on severalunfinished pieces scat-tered in the area, henoted, “Stainless steelis a tough taskmaster.Building the piece isn’tas hard as achievingthe finish.”

“Sculpture makesyou sweat,” he added.“Nothing is easy in thefoundry business. It’svery labor intensive.You’ll work yourselfragged; you’ve got tobe in pretty goodhealth.”

In thinking about

his design process Larry says, “Findexciting ideas. Don’t become tooimbedded in a pattern. Allow yourselfto deviate—to see things as if you’dnever seen them before.” When design-ing a new sculpture, Larry visits the siteand looks for “what speaks to me.” Inplanning the large concrete and alu-minum sculpture Equinox for AlabamaState University, he walked around thecampus and noticed the surroundingbuildings and sidewalks–so he constructed a sculpture like a side-

walk going up into the air and twisting.” People could notignore the sculpture looking like it once was a sidewalk, butnow it’s not usable. Artists show people a new way of look-ing at things,” he said. Community Violence Inspires Artistic Expression

At the corner of 8th Avenue North and 18th Street inBirmingham, a site has been dedicated for a communitysculpture/public art project called Freedom From Violence.

In 1994, the City of Birmingham lost 22 young peopleto violent crime. Seventeen of those deaths were handgun-related. In that year, Dr. David Reynolds, a pediatricianand chairman of the Coalition of Citizens Against

Violence, conceivedthe possibility ofemploying gun “buy-back” weapons in theproduction of a publicmonument. The sculp-ture would providepermanent testamentto the violence andtragic loss of life suf-fered by the communi-ty at its own hands.Dr. Scot Meyer, sculp-tor and professor ofceramics at theUniversity ofMontevallo, was asked

Becoming by Ted Metz is at theCity of Hoover Municipal Complex.

A computer-generated rendering of Dr. Scot Meyer’s design forBirmingham’s Freedom from Violence.


to develop a design for the monument. Meyer says hethought about ways to use the guns or parts of guns fromthe “buy-back” programs as part of the sculpture. He alsothought about what is often called “spiraling” violence andhit upon the image of a whirlpool, “something you can’tpull yourself out of once you get involved in it.”

Using the whirlpool image, Meyer conceived a concavestructure 17 feet in diameter and 4 feet deep. In this struc-ture is a swirling “chaotic jumble of handguns, which havebeen destroyed by cutting them in half and welding themto the contoured steel.” Viewers can sense the freedom ofgrabbing hold of the handle ofa weapon and in so doing,experience the alarming sensa-tion of thousands of gun bar-rels pointing back at them.

Worried that the way inwhich he had chosen toexpress his concern about vio-lence might not ring true tosomeone who had been affect-ed by it, Meyer talked withCarmen McCain, aBirmingham mother at theforefront of the struggleagainst violence. In 1992 her16-year-old son, NazariahRamone “Bonky” McCain,was killed in the parking lot ofa Pizza Hut. “I looked down at his body lying in the emer-gency room and I said to myself that not another childshould go this way. I just knew that I had to do something,”McCain said. The organization she founded, MothersAgainst Violence, is dedicated to speaking out againstcrime and reaching out to other mothers who have losttheir children to violence.

Meyer wanted McCain to feel that this memorial wassomething she could call her own. He said, “If she didn’tfeel like this was a place where she could put her grief, I’dhave to try again.” She liked the sculpture and saw in it herown vision of swirling water.

The sculpture and public art project Freedom FromViolence has been conceived as a physical and spiritualplace to put grief, anger and hope. It is viewed as a place toeducate visitors, to sensitize the community to the problemand to provide a catalyst for solutions. It can be a place forquiet contemplation and a place for renewal of commit-ment.

But the sculpture has yet to be constructed. There areseveral obstacles to the completion of the project:

Cost: $358,000. The Alabama State Council on theArts has provided $11,200 for initial planning. An addi-

tional $90,000 has beenraised, and pledges from cor-porations and civic groupscontinue. The next fund drivebegins this fall. The goal is forinstallation of the piece by theend of 2000.Guns: Meyer estimates thatthe memorial will require5,000 guns, all “destroyed” asrequired by law. As a first step,in 1996, the Birmingham CityCouncil amended the cityordinance that mandatedmelting down all guns seizedby the police. The councilaction now gives the policethe option to “destroy or dis-

able” guns, giving Meyer access to the confiscated weapons.He has developed a procedure that involves cuttingthrough the chamber, barrel, and frame of every weaponwith two abrasive discs. All moving parts are welded fastand the barrel is jammed. A master machinist with 40 yearsof experience has verified that this action will “destroy” theguns. Two thousand guns are now in hand.

Georgine Clarke is visual arts program manager ofthe Alabama State Council on the Arts.

Casey Downing Jr.’s Oculus, (limestone, 1984)is on the campus of Cape College.


Birmingham artist Leah Webb’sstone carvings are included in over50 private and corporate collections,including the University of Alabamaat Birmingham and the City ofHoover.

She writes, “As for carving stone;most people just cannot fathom howit is done. It does require thinking inreverse, so to speak. I liken carvingstone to peeling an onion. Ratherthan lopping of big chunks, one peels away the layers.

About the process: “There is nothing that satisfiesme in the way that carving does. The world and its woessimply vanish. There is only the stone and the point atwhich my chisel meets it. I am shrouded (literally) infull garb: steel-toed boots, long sleeves, overalls, turtle-neck, headwrap, respirator, and face shield. The com-pressor pounds away but mostly, I can hear only mybreathing and the chisel. I am further removed from the‘real’ world by ear plugs.

“The images that I create are invariably very fluid,lyrical and flowing. The contrast of creating this imageryin a material as hard and unforgiving has great appeal forme. The charm lies partly in the challenge: one false

move and it’s over. It requires a kindof clarity of mind that is cleansing inits own way.”About creating commissioned work:“There are those that commissionone’s work and those that commis-sion one to create an image based ontheir preconceived agenda. There isalways the trauma of creating a workthat satisfies the agenda of the person(or more frequently the committee)

without a total betrayal of one’s aesthetics. “The installations of large public works have invari-

ably in my experience required engineering miracles.The coordination of those responsible for the place inwhich the work will be installed with those who willinstall it is left brain in the extreme. It requires hyper-vigilance, absolute clarity in communication, and manysleepless nights.

“But the feeling of accomplishment once the piece isin place is most invigorating. The unexpected pleasureof someone mentioning having seen and admired thework as the years go by allows us to relive the joymomentarily. It is a wonderful feeling.”

OF PUBLIC WORKSAND CARVING STONE

(From left) Ted Metz’s Diagnostic Image (1997) was commissioned for HealthSouth Corporateheadquarters in Birmingham; Zachary Coffin’s Antelumpen (1997) is in front of the Birmingham

Museum of Art; and Branko Medenica’s Aspirations (1991) is on the UAB campus.


PROFILESBrad BaileyArtist Fellowship in Theatre

Double Springs native Brad Baileywrote his first play, Among MySouvenirs, as a senior at Winston

County HighSchool. At theUniversity ofAlabama, hereceived a B.A. injournalism and stud-ied creative writingwith Barry Hannah.

His second play, A Sad Song for theWhippoorwill, was produced as theUniversity’s entry in the AmericanCollege Theatre Festival (ACTF)where Bailey received the NormanLear Award for Achievement inComedy Playwriting. The Real Queenof Hearts Ain’t Even Pretty premieredat the University and was first alter-nate to the ACTF Kennedy Centercompetition, later enjoying a success-ful run at the Actor’s Playhouse in LosAngeles. Two one-act plays followed:Electric Angel, winner of the Marc, aKlein Award, and Stolen Thunder, pro-duced at New York’s AmericanTheatre for Actors.

Bailey’s Womenfolks, an evening ofmonologues for women, included“Crowning Glory” which had its off-Broadway premiere at the JudithAnderson Theatre. A musical collab-

oration with two friends became TheGospel According to Esther, whichBailey describes as a “PentecostalDreamgirls.”

Bailey has had several originalscreenplays optioned and worked forthe four major television networks onprojects ranging from soap operas tosituation comedies. His most recentproject is Peacock Incognito, a full-length play about the last days ofTennessee Williams.

Craig HultgrenArtist Fellowship in Music

As a classical cellist, CraigHultgren plays in the AlabamaSymphony Orchestra and has servedas principal cellist with the NationalSymphony Orchestra of Panama andthe Savannah Symphony Orchestra.A member of Thamyris, a contempo-

rary chamber music ensemble inAtlanta, Hultgren is both a player andan advocate of new music, the avantgarde and the “newly creative arts.”He has performed at the SpoletoFestival in Charleston, Imagine ‘96 inMemphis, the Society of Electro-acoustic Music in the United States,the New Directions Cello Festival inBoston, and the SKIIFestival in NewYork. He maintains a schedule of 50new music performances every year,both in the U.S. and abroad. He ismuch sought-after as a teacher andnurtures a thriving private studioalong with faculty duties atBirmingham-Southern College, theUniversity of Montevallo, and theAlabama School of Fine Arts.

Hultgren has commissioned morethan 20 new works for the cello.Through his collaborations with com-posers, he is introducing new ways towrite for and listen to the instrument.His renditions of contemporary musichave been broadcast on NationalPublic Radio’s “Performance Today”and European radio. He is featured ona debut solo recording, Music of theNext Moment, on Minnesota-basedinnova Recordings. Besides playingwritten compositions, Hultgren per-forms his own spontaneous, free-styleimprovisations.

FELLOWSHIP

The State Arts Council awards Fellowships of $5,000 or $10,000 to working Alabama artists.

They are given in recognition of the significant output of mature artists as well as to boost the careers

of young achievers who may need time, materials or travel to complete an important work or series.

The artists profiled in this issue received Artist Fellowships within the past five years.


As president of the BirminghamArt Association, he institutedBirmingham Improv, the annual festi-val of improvisatory arts. He is a con-sultant for Living Music, an interna-tional organization of composers andserves on the steering committee ofthe New Directions Cello Association.He was a founding member of theBirmingham Art Music Alliance, agroup of composers, performers andenthusiasts dedicated to new music.

Carolyn HainesArtist Fellowship in Literature

Novelist Carolyn Haines receivedcritical acclaim for Summer of theRedeemers, published by Dutton in1994. This first novel was selected asa candidate for the Pulitzer Prize byDutton, and has been published inFrance and Germany. Her secondnovel for Dutton, Touched, was pub-lished in 1996 and brought out inpaper in 1997. It received glowingreviews in The New York Times BookReview, The Times and dozens of othernewspapers and magazines. Touchedhas been optioned by DogstarProductions of London, whose mostrecent project was Shakespeare in Love.

Both novels are set in the small townof Jexville, Mississippi. Summer of theRedeemers is a coming-of-age novel setin 1963. Touched is set in 1926 and isabout a young girl who is struck bylightning and becomes prophetic.

Under the pen name CarolineBurnes, Haines has published 24romantic mysteries for HarlequinIntrigue. Her first, A Deadly Breed,was published in 1988 and involvedhorses. One of her most popular cre-ations has been the black cat detec-tive, Familiar. For Shop Talk, pub-lished by Haines’s own Kali-oka Press,she assumed another name, LizzieHart.

Haines grew up in a “newspaper-ing” family and started her writingcareer as a photojournalist at the ageof 12. She earned a B.S. degree injournalism from the University ofSouthern Mississippi and covered pol-itics, features and hard news acrossthe South.

Dorothy HindmanArtist Fellowship in Music (Composition)

Dr. Dorothy Hindman’s composi-tions have been performed in theU.S., Italy, Russia, Romania, and the

Czech Republic. Among her awardsand commissions are recognition inthe G. Schirmer Young AmericansChoral Competition, the NACUSAYoung Composers Competition, thePercussive Arts Society’s InternationalSolo Marimba CompositionCompetition and the Abraham FrostComposition Competition. She hasreceived numerous commissions andnational awards for her musical worksand is a finalist in theASCA/National SymphonyOrchestra Commission Competition.Hindman has participated in presti-gious national conferences, workshopsand artistic residencies. She is afounding member of the BirminghamArt Music Alliance, and also serveson the Board of Directors of theSociety of Composers, Inc. Dr.Hindman hold degrees with honorsfrom Duke University and theUniversity of Miami. She teachesmusic theory and composition atBirmingham-Southern College.

David AndersonArtist Fellowship in Choreography

Texas native David Andersonbegan his training in San Antonio


and received a Ford Foundationscholarship in 1960 to the SanFrancisco Ballet School where hesoon joined the company. He per-formed the Grand Pas de Deux fromThe Nutcracker for ABC-TV, anddanced the role of the Prince in SanFrancisco Ballet’s ABC-TV showingof Beauty and the Beast.

Anderson moved to New York Cityand performed as a soloist at RadioCity Music Hall, became a member ofAmerican Ballet Theatre, and was acharter member of the Theater DanceCollection, a concert dance troupeactive in New York during the 1980s.He choreographed and performed inBe Jubilant My Feet, a program ondance and religion written and narrat-ed by the late dance historian andcritic Walter Terry. Anderson alsodirected his own ensemble, davidan-dersondance, performed on Broadwayin the original production ofApplause! starring Lauren Bacall andwas choreographer-in-workshop onnew productions for Tom Jones andHarvey Schmitt, creators of TheFantasticks and I Do! I Do!

As a free lance artist, Anderson hastaught and choreographed for dancecompanies, festivals and universities.He has received choreographic fellow-ships from the National Endowmentfor the Arts and ASCA. In Europe,he has maintained residencies inMunich, Salzburg and Stockholm. In1997, he was guest ballet master forthe Korean National University ofthe Arts dance division. In April1999, he received an award for chore-ography for Daydream in the Panoplyfestival competition.

Jenny Plunkett LetnerArtist Fellowship in Choreography

Dancer and choreographer JennyPlunkett Letner is a three-time overall

winner of the Panoply Arts Festival(Huntsville) ChoreographyCompetition and two-time winner ofRegional Dance America’s MonticelloAward for Choreography. Her workshave also been performed at theSoutheastern Regional BalletAssociation Festival’s EmergingChoreographer’s Concerts.

She has received awards from theNational Foundation for theAdvancement of the Arts andscholarships for summer study to theLewitzky Workshop, Joffrey BalletSchool, Ballet Dallas, AmericanDance Festival, National Craft ofChoreography Conference, the NorthCarolina School of the Arts, and thePaul Taylor II Workshop.

Plunkett has choreographednumerous works for the AlabamaDance Theatre in Montgomery, whereshe trained and now dances profes-sionally. Her Bolero was performed atADT’s spring 1999 production of “ACelebration of the Season.” Her firstwork for the Alabama Ballet,Accompanied, received a standing ova-tion at a Birmingham Civic Centerperformance in April. Her choreo-graphic style has been called “specifi-

cally American. . . . full of total bodyathleticism.”

Cooper SpiveyArtist Fellowship in Visual Art

Cooper Spivey creates art thatcomments on American culture andmost recently on changes in theAmerican landscape. Major workshave included his trilogy of exhibi-tions on the family in 20th centurylife. Spivey’s Family Structures, a col-lection of photomontage construc-tions, was exhibited in Athens andAtlanta, Ga., as well as Birminghamand Chicago. It was followed byFamily Rituals, which explored themyths and stereotypes of theAmerican family, especially as por-trayed through modern media. FamilyDreams was the third in the series. Hiscurrent paintings portray ideas ofindustrial and cultural encroachmentin rural Shelby County where he nowlives.

Spivey earned a bachelor of finearts degree and a master of arts ineducation from University ofAlabama at Birmingham. As anundergraduate he was the recipient ofa senior art scholarship. He has servedas an adjunct faculty member at theUniversity of Alabama Birminghamand Birmingham-Southern College.

Spivey’s work has been exhibited atthe Mississippi Museum of Art inJackson, the Fine Arts Museum of theSouth in Mobile, and the Huntsville


Museum of Art. He was a 1995 recipi-ent of a Visual Arts Fellowship inPhotography from the Southern ArtsFederation/National Endowment forthe Arts.

Kenneth ProcterArtist Fellowship in Visual Art

His “drawings are precise arrange-ments of objects which create adreamlike atmosphere,” wrote JamesR. Nelson in The Birmingham News ofa showing of Kenneth Procter’s draw-ings and paintings exhibited by theBirmingham Art Association. Aninvitation to a solo exhibition in theHuntsville Museum of Art’s“Encounters” series called his work“evocative and surrealistic landscapes.”

Procter’s awards and exhibitionsinclude the Works on PaperExhibition University of Texas, andthe American Annual Works onPaper Exhibition at the Zaner Galleryin Rochester, N.Y., a purchase awardin the Appalachian National DrawingCompetition, and exhibitions at civicart museums in Huntsville, Mobile,Birmingham and Meridian. He hasgiven papers and presentations foracademic, professional and communi-ty organizations on religious art andvarious other topics.

Procter is a professor of art at theUniversity of Montevallo, where hehas been recognized by students andfaculty as the College of Fine ArtsDistinguished Teacher. He receivedan MFA from University of NorthCarolina at Chapel Hill and a bache-lor’s degree in art education fromMillersville University.

Larry ManningArtist Fellowship in Craft (Pottery)

Larry Manning is a master potterwho exhibits control of all aspects inthe formation of a clay piece fromshaping the wet clay to applying glaze

to baking or firing to achieve the fin-ished piece. At the time of his fellow-ship, he was creating tea bowls basedon Japanese and Chinese influences,exploring the clays, glazes and firingtechniques of raku, stoneware andporcelain. His goal was to produce “anAmerican tea bowl with the energyand spirit of the oriental.”

Manning received his MFA fromthe University of Mississippi, an MSin art from Florida State University,and also studied in Cortina, Italy. Heis on the faculty of the department offine arts of the Jefferson Davis StateJunior College in Brewton.

Manning’s clay works are exhibitednationally and he conducts workshopsand serves as juror for many art festi-vals and exhibitions. He has served asan officer of the Alabama CraftsCouncil and founder of the AlabamaClay Conference.

Dale LewisArtist Fellowship in Craft

(Woodworking)

Woodworker Dale Lewis of Calerabuilds furniture and smaller piecessuch as boxes. All are functional butshow unusual, inventive shapes and

fine detailing. Examples include achair which takes the form of atrained seal balancing a ball on itsnose, boxes that look like insectsstriding along on three legs. Anotherbox called “What’s Burning” has a lidshaped like a rising flame.

Lewis received a bachelor of finearts degree with an emphasis in com-mercial design from he University ofAlabama, and a master of arts degreefrom UAB. He retired from employ-ment in graphic and visual arts withthe UAB media department. He hasworked in wood since 1980, and since1984 he has exhibited his sculpturalwooden pieces through juried shows,exhibits and galleries. More than 100of his pieces are held in private, cor-porate and museum collectionsincluding those of the Arts Council ofHuntsville and the Mobile Museum ofArt.

His awards include “Best of Show”at Midwest Salute to the Masters inIllinois and also at Kentuck Festival inNorthport and Panoply in Huntsville.

Karen GraffeoArtist Fellowship in Visual Art

(Photography)

Karen Graffeo’s evocative pho-tographs, with their multiply exposedelements and nude self portraits andfigure studies have received nationaland international exposure throughmajor showings and publications.Among them are SouthernRoots–Women’s Voices, an invitationalgroup show at Agnes Scott College inAtlanta, Medical Revisions, exhibitedin New York City and Memphis, thetouring exhibition Stories from Her,and a show at the Catalyst Gallery inBelfast, Ireland.

Her Prodigal Daughters, shown inboth Birmingham and Atlanta,included ballet as well as an exhibi-


tion. Reminding Myself, which pre-miered in Florence, Alabama, beforebeing exhibited in New York, alsoused performance. Graffeo’s photoshave been published in Black WarriorReview, Aura literary magazine,Number, Aperture, and in collabora-tion with Richard Giles in Untitledmagazine.

Graffeo has taught art atUniversity of Alabama Birmingham.She is a graduate of Jacksonville StateUniversity with a bachelor’s degree inart education. At the University ofAlabama she earned an MA in arteducation and an MFA with concen-tration in photography and painting.In addition to fellowships fromASCA she has received regional artistproject grants from the ContemporaryArts Center of New Orleans.

Robert CollinsArtist Fellowship in Literature (Poetry)

Poet, educator and editor RobertCollins advances knowledge andexposure to poetry, especially in hiscommunity, through publications andreadings. Collins is associate professorof English at the University ofAlabama Birmingham where he has

taught since 1980. He has editedBirmingham Poetry Review since 1988.

Collins’s two recent chapbookswon awards; Lives We Have Chosen,1998, took the Tennessee ChapbookAward and The Glass Blower, 1997,placed in the Maryland PoetryReview Chapbook Contest. His workshave also won the Ascent PoetryPrize, the Academy of AmericanPoets Prize, the Athenaeum PoetryPrize and been nominated for aPushcart Prize.

Collins piloted and developed abasic writing program at UAB and co-directed the university’s creative writ-ing program for 1997-1998. He hascoordinated and moderated poetryreadings for many places and occa-sions including the ongoing “LastSundays at Highland Booksmith” foran independent Birmingham bookstore, City Stages arts festival, artistsin the schools programs and theBirmingham Public Library. He hasmade presentations to the Associationof College English Teachers ofAlabama on teaching creative writ-ing, and to the Alabama State PoetrySociety, the National Poetry Societyand “Writing Today” conference onpublishing in literary magazines.

Thomas RabbittArtist Fellowship in Literature (Poetry)

Now retired, English ProfessorThomas Rabbitt taught in theUniversity of Alabama MFA programin creative writing which he estab-lished in 1972 and directed for manyyears. He also directed the university’sVisiting Writers Series. Rabbittearned an AB at Harvard, an MA atJohns Hopkins, and an MFA at theUniversity of Iowa. His poetry oftenjuxtaposes his classical learning withexperiences of Alabama and southernfarm life.

Rabbitt’s books of poetry includeExile (1975), The Booth Interstate(1981), The Abandoned Country(1988), The Transfiguration of Dread(1998), Enemies of the State (to bepublished in the fall of 1999 by BlackBelt Press, Montgomery) and severalchapbooks, among them The CaponIslands’ News, forthcoming in the fall1999 issue of The Idaho Review. From1979 to 1990, he edited or co-editedbooks in the “Alabama Poetry Series”published by the University ofAlabama Press.

In addition to the 1996-1998ASCA Artist Fellowship in Poetry,Rabbitt has received numerous awards.Exile won the United States Award,International Poetry Forum (“PittPrize”). He won the Pushcart Prize in1994 and a Literary Fellowship fromthe National Endowment for the Artsin 1997. His work has been includedin such anthologies as The CarnegieMellon Anthology of Poetry, AlabamaPoets, New American Poets of the ’90s,The Morrow Anthology of YoungerPoets, and The Made Thing: AnAnthology of Contemporary SouthernPoetry. He has contributed poetry toNation, Shenandoah, Prairie Schooner,


Humanities in the South, and the LongIsland Review. Yvonne JacksonArtist Fellowship in Literature (Fiction)

Birmingham native YvonneJackson is a graduate of the AlabamaSchool of Fine Arts, Yale Universityand the University of Alabama pro-gram in creative writing. Jackson haspublished poetry and fiction in liter-ary journals, including Portfolio,Saybrook Poetry Review, and Ritual andDissent.

Honors include National MeritFinalist, University of AlabamaSociety of Fine Arts Fellow, NationalEndowment for the HumanitiesSummer Institute in AfricanAmerican Literature GraduateTeaching Assistantship, and OwenDuston Visiting Minority AssistantProfessor at Wabash College, Indiana.Her writing has garnered prizes fromthe Academy of American Poets com-petition at the University ofAlabama, the Arts Recognition andTalent Search, and the InterlochenNational Youth Writing Competition,among others.

Janice KlugeArtist Fellowship in Visual Art

Janice Kluge works with preciousmetals such as silver or gold leaf anduses durable substances like bronze,titanium, glass, coral and wood to cre-ate iconic art objects. She trained as ajeweler and uses jewelry techniques

such as soldering and filing on finelydetailed, small format works. She alsopaints her metal sculpture, whichalters the viewer’s perception of thematerial. Her critically-acclaimedcreations offer an “ironic juxtaposi-tion of the realm of the domestic andthat of art...”

Kluge is an associate professor of artat the University of AlabamaBirmingham. She has had solo exhibi-tions at the Huntsville Museum of Artand Agnes Gallery of Photography,Birmingham. Her work has beenselected for many regional juried andnational invitational exhibitions andis represented in a number of privateand public collections throughout thecountry. She has received awards andrecognition for excellence in teaching,metalworking, drawing and sculpture.

Her honors and awards include anAndy Warhol Foundation Grant andfaculty research grants which allowedthematic research in Mexico andIreland. Kluge earned a BFA fromUniversity of Illinois, an MA and anMFA from the University ofWisconsin.

Allen SmithArtist Fellowship in Design

Allen Smith is a full-time artistand designer whose work has includedsteel furniture, boats and solar pow-ered vehicles. He combines artisticcreativity, engineering skills and expe-rience in a wide variety of materials

and manufacturing techniques. At thetime he received the fellowship, hewas working on a prototype of awheelchair that would climb stairs.

Smith holds a BS in mechanicalengineering from the University ofAlabama. His work at the UnitedStates Army Missile Command atRedstone Arsenal in the early 1990sinvolved technical supervision of sev-eral test programs for evaluating theperformance of structures underextreme conditions, an aspect of engi-neering and fabrication which he hasstudied extensively.

Smith’s projects often relate toinnovative systems of mobility, solartechnology and products, architectureand furniture design. He has designedand built an arm-propelled vehicle forindividuals with lower body impair-ment and a solar-powered electricvehicle which placed second in theFlorida Solar Energy Center alterna-tive fuel vehicle race. He has alsoworked with the Eastern Shore ArtCenter on the design and implemen-tation of a foundry facility for teach-ing bronze casting and mold-makingtechniques.

Smith is a founding member of theTraditional Watercraft and MaritimeSociety for which he has taught a“build your own wooden boat” pro-gram. His design studio in Fairhope iscalled Steel Dreams.

Caroline DavisArtist Fellowship in Visual Art

(Photography)

Caroline Davis operates successful-ly in both commercial and fine artphotography. She has exhibited ingroup and solo shows in Huntsville,Montgomery, Birmingham, Tuscaloosaand New York City. Several of hersolo exhibitions highlight images fromher world travels, including


Underwater Fantasy at the TropicalArt Gallery in New York, andPhotographs of the British Isles.

Since 1989, Davis has been anindependent contract freelance pho-tographer shooting for advertisingclients, magazines and for Leo De Wysstock photography agency of NewYork. Many of her photos in stockcollections are from her travels toexotic destinations including Nepal,Tibet, Bahamas, Europe, and Africa.In her commercial work, Davis hasspecialized in environmental portraits,shooting industrial, aerial, underwaterand other assignments for interna-tional clients.

Davis earned a BA from theUniversity of Alabama. She studied atthe School of Visual Arts in NewYork City and took a semester at seawith the University of Pittsburgh onthe S.S. Universe Floating WorldVoyage.

Kathleen FettersArtist Fellowship in Visual Art

(Photography)

Even as a child Kathleen Fettersalways had a camera in her hand, butnot until college did she “see” througha lens, she said. Among her photo-graphs are images which are hand-colored and copper toned. A few aremade with a pinhole camera. Fettersdevelops her own black and whitenegatives and prints the images on avariety of photography papers with

antique Omega enlargers. Fetters has concentrated on “sub-

jects which explore the complexitiesfound in our Southern heritage, anever vanishing landscape.” In 1991she began collecting images from thesetting surrounding Ma’Cille’sMuseum of Miscellanea. In andaround her Pickens County home,Lucille House amassed a vast collec-tion of odd stuff which had long fasci-nated Fetters. Fetters’s other photo-graphic series are images of religiousicons on the Southern roadsides andin everyday backyards and the river-boat towns and cemeteries of earlyAlabama.

Fetters has won numerous juriedawards at Southern arts and craftfestivals and exhibited in galleries andmuseums throughout the Southeast.She earned a bachelor’s degree fromValdosta State College in fine art, didpostgraduate work in advancedceramic techniques, and also earned amaster’s in library science.

Carlton Nell, Jr.Artist Fellowship in Visual Art

Carlton Nell, Jr. has garnerednational attention for his sparse,oriental-like calligraphic studies andmysterious, delicate floral paintings.He has exhibited in galleries or muse-ums in Atlanta, Savannah, St.Petersburg, Columbus (Ga.), NewYork and many other locations. Hiswork has been accepted in the

National Juried Small WorksExhibition, Bradley (University)National Print and DrawingExhibition, Cooperstown ArtAssociation Galleries’ NationalExhibition and others.

Nell’s investigations and portrayalof plant form have resulted in a siz-able body of work based on his inten-sive study of exotic and rare plantsfrom around the world found in theRoyal Botanic Gardens in London.Nell examined, photographed anddrew them. Plants are “universal,accessible, and beautiful while engag-ing in no particular activity but liv-ing,” Nell observed. “The inanimatequality prevents any narrative or sto-ryline from attaching itself to the pic-ture, thus allowing transcendent issuesof time and space to surface...”

Nell graduated with a BFA fromAuburn University and earned anMFA at Georgia State University. Heis an associate professor of art atAuburn University.K. Lee ScottArtist Fellowship in Composition

Composer K. Lee Scott holds bach-elor’s and master’s degrees in choralmusic from the University ofAlabama. More than 250 of Scott’sworks are in the catalogues of 15 pub-lishing companies, and he is a full-time composer with many commis-sions for choral works, especially festi-val pieces with brass accompaniment.His pieces have been included in theAmerican Choral DirectorsAssociation Showcase of AmericanComposers. He was commissionedjointly by the Hymn Society in theUnited States and Canada andChoristers Guild to write a work fortheir joint convocation in San Diegoand is scheduled to present new hymnselections at the next Hymn Society


convention. Several CDs of his com-positions have been released national-ly. His new Christmas cantata, com-missioned by music publisherHinshaw, will premiere this season. Joel TarpleyArtist Fellowship in Music

Joel Tarpley earned a master ofmusic degree at the Juilliard Schooland a bachelor of music from theUniversity of Georgia where he grad-uated magna cum laude. He was prin-cipal horn player of the AlabamaSymphony Orchestra as well as a fre-quent soloist and performer of cham-ber music. He was an adjunct horninstructor at Jacksonville StateUniversity and instrumental musicdirector at Briarwood PresbyterianChurch. Tarpley had the dream ofbeginning a chamber music series fea-turing music from the 17th and 18thcentury performed on replicas ofinstruments from that time period. He

planned to use fellowship funding topurchase historical instruments,receive private instruction on themand fund the chamber music series.He ordered a handmade natural horn,but died from a brain tumor beforethe instrument was completed. Hiswidow, Nina, also a horn playerplanned to carry on with the project. Eric WareArtist Fellowship in Theatre

Ware graduated from Troy StateUniversity with a BS in speech andtheatre. He completed the profession-al actor’s training program at theAlabama Shakespeare Festival,interned at the Alliance Theatre inAtlanta, and continued acting studiesat the Eric Loeb Studio in New York.

Since receiving the ArtistFellowship, Eric Ware moved to LosAngeles. He works in television andfilms as well as stage roles, such as aBroadway appearance in Mule Bone, a

play by Zora Neale Hurston. Warewon a Woodie Award, named forWoodie King, a leading African-American director. Ware also won aKennedy Center National ActingAward, and placed high in the IreneRyan Acting Scholarship competition.

CATEGORIES FORARTIST FELLOWSHIPS

The State Arts Council acceptsapplications in any of the disciplinesubcategories listed below. Call theState Arts Council at 334/242-4076to check with a program manager ifyou have questions. CRAFTS (clay, fiber, metal, glass,wood, similar crafts)VISUAL ARTS (painting, sculp-ture, printmaking, drawing, experi-mental) MEDIA/PHOTOGRAPHY (film,audio, video/screenwriting)Contact: Georgine Clarke, VisualArts Program Manager,ext. 250

DESIGN (architecture, fashiondesign, graphic design, industrialdesign, interior design, landscapearchitecture, urban design and plan-ning)LITERATURE (fiction, creativenonfiction, poetry)Contact: Randy Shoults, CommunityArts and Literary Arts ProgramsManager, ext. 224

DANCE (performance, choreogra-phy)MUSIC (vocal, instrumental, com-position, conducting, musical direc-tion, performing)THEATRE (acting, design, direct-ing, playwriting, mime, puppetry)

Contact: Becky Mullen, PerformingArts Program Manager, ext. 226

ELIGIBILITYAll Applicants

An applicant must be a legal resi-dent of Alabama who has lived inthe state for two years prior to theapplication. An individual may sub-mit only one fellowship applicationduring the year. Fellowship recipi-ents cannot apply again for fouryears after receipt of the award, butapplicants who have not received afellowship are encouraged to applyagain. Artists who have receivedtwo fellowships are no longer eligi-ble.


September 9-November 4 Moving On: Art for the MillenniumThis is a time to look back at how far we have come and a timeto imagine the future. Five artists present ideas relating to issuesof faith, of personal connections through time and across genera-tions, and of a pause for contemplation.

November 18-January 13 Alabama Array: An Art Celebration at 1999/2000This exhibition presents work in painting, sculpture, photogra-phy, printmaking and craft.

January 27-March 23 Winter Blossoms: A Bouquet for 2000Floral themes are showcased in craft, painting, sculpture, andphotography.

The Alabama Artists Gallery, located at the offices of the Alabama State Council onthe Arts in the RSA Tower in downtown Montgomery, provides an on-going showcaseof the work of Alabama artists in all media.

Exhibition ScheduleAlabama Artists Gallery

Documents

ALABAMA ARTS In this Issue · 2013. 10. 16. · 4 • Alabama Arts • Fall 1999 T his last year has certainly been an Annis Mirabilis for Madison Jones, a year of wonders. His newest