Feast of Flowers

During the year 2010, or there-a-bouts, The State of Florida put out a call-to-arts for artists of various media to create content supporting the five hundredth anniversary of the naming of Florida.

On March 1, 1513, or there-a-bouts, Ponce de Leon, a politician and itinerate explorer left Puerto Rico in search for a magical healing fountain. After being blown off course his expedition found itself in uncharted waters. On April 2 he put his spyglass to his eye and scanned the distant shoreline. It was Easter Sunday, Pascua Florida in Spanish. "Land ho, We'll name it in honor of Easter Sunday." Or so it goes. The english translation stuck. Feast of Flowers. Later the name was shortened to La Florida. As with most mythic events reality is subdued in favor of drama. Nevertheless somewhere along the way the Floridian peninsula was claimed for Spain.

And so it began. Estimates put the indigenous population of the sand bar at somewhere near a million people. The local population flourished in the subtropical paradise for nearly ten thousand years. The abundant natural springs and a wealth of available food sources made a land of easy living for the various native peoples.

When I started thinking about what I could produce as a working Florida artist I poured through books and images of my adopted state looking for a proper hook on which to hang a body of work. My concept was to mount an exhibition at a Florida museum entitled Feast of Flowers. This exhibition would provide a glimpse into the peninsula as it existed in pre colonial times.

I contacted Hope McMath, then director of The Cummer Museum of Art and Gardens with a late-night proposal. A few weeks later the phone rang, "Jim?" It was Hope. "I'm in. let's do this." Weeks of negotiations coupled with dreams and plans left us with an exhibition plan. The show was scheduled to open in December of 2012. We all got to work.

Luckily my studio at the time was in the newly opened CoRK Arts District. I occupied 2500 square feet with nearly twenty foot ceilings. Plenty of room to create work in order to fill the Stein Gallery at the museum.

My studio assistant at the time was the energetic, visionary and immensely talented, Staci BuShea. "How in the Hell are we going to do this?" I was at the point of tears. "This is the biggest thing I've done. We have little to no money and time's-a-wasting."

Staci patted me on the arm. "Don't worry, Jim, we will do this. Let's start with a Kickstarter campaign." I had no idea what she was talking about but we got busy.

"I also think we should do a book." I watched Staci gulp hard with that statement. "Are you up for this?"

"I might have to quit my job waiting tables at Carmines Pizza." Staci opened her eyes wide. "I'm all in." And so it began. We went forward with the paintings and the book. In the planning stages we laid large pieces of brown paper on a table between us. We scratched and scribbled ideas for paintings and concepts for the book. The next year and a half became a blur. At one point I remember getting down to less than fifty dollars in my business account. I raided my personal account. Begged and borrowed from everyone I knew.

I looked at Staci fighting off the tears brought on by impending failure. "We have to believe we can do this." Miraculously, a couple of painting sales came along and we were flush again. The Kickstarter campaign rendered almost fifteen thousand dollars. We were in business.

Jake and Pam Ingram were the first collectors of the paintings for the exhibition. "I'll deliver it as soon as the exhibition comes down." I said knowing their check was not only a life-saver but also a good shot-in-the-arm to cure my depression.

I'd been interested in biology for years before the Feast of Flowers project began. For a period of time after graduate school I worked in various landscape jobs both in Mississippi and in coastal South Carolina. During the mid 1980's I, along with my business partner, Frances Parker, opened a landscape company and nursery in Beaufort, South Carolina, the queen of the Lowcountry. After observing the resilience of indigenous plants in the wake of various climate catastrophes I became interested in the use of these plants in landscape/garden design. Frances Parker was a noted plant whisperer in the area. The garden in her historic eighteenth century house in Beaufort was legend. Tourist flocked to see her deft creation. Along the way I became interested in Linnean classification and was determined to learn the Latin names of every wildflower. After committing a few hundred to memory I decided that my feeble brain was incapable of absorbing that much information.

Part of the Feast of Flowers project was designed to celebrate indigenous plants and plant communities. I spent a lot of time along the St. Johns River from its headwaters in south Florida to the barrier islands north and east of Jacksonville, Florida. Much of this exploration was along the river's margins in human powered watercraft or simply hiking trails to get to the water's edge. One spectacular marginal plant is Hibiscus grandiflorus. The pale pink flowers measure up to eight inches across. While searching for themes and images to be addressed in this project I stood on a boardwalk above a wetland that flanked a tributary of the St. Johns. The wild hibiscus were putting on a show. Various butterflies and bugs were having a field day in the luscious blossoms. I noticed something peculiar about the plants. The velvet covered leaves had many holes in them. The idea of feast blasted through my mind. In order for us to enjoy flowers we need to accept the feast as part of the natural order. Another angle for my story.

As I started the Feast of Flowers project I spent the time trying to understand the historical context of New World expansion and colonization. For some reason I never put together the High Renaissance and the conquering of the west. Leonardo da Vinci was painting his iconic Last Supper as Christopher Columbus was making his various voyages to the West Indies. The Spanish Inquisition was also launched by Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain a few years before they funded the first trip of Columbus. Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel Ceiling was finished the year before Ponce de Leon lifted his spyglass toward the Floridan peninsula.

When in creative pursuits it's ineffective to pluck a single aspect of history out of context. Also, it is impossible to create in a vacuum. From my reading about the social and political climate in Europe at the beginning of the sixteenth century I gleaned a basic understanding of the colonization of the New World.

As an artist, I was interested in the practice of making paintings and the decorative embellishments that were part of the High Renaissance. The rise of a merchant class and the exceeding wealth of the Roman Catholic Church created a demand for the exotic. Artists scrambled to find more rich colors for their paintings. Dyes were needed to color the fine fabrics demanded by the rich. And of course, Gold. Everything had to be gilded.

Many of the voyages were launched to promote the color trade. Jewel-tones ruled the day. Blues and purples were a rare departure from the warm earth tones mined from the Italian landscape.

While designing the visitor experience planned for Feast of Flowers I wanted to employ the feeling of a sanctuary. I appropriated devices from ecclesiastical venues and object of devotion. This journey was not new for me. Earlier in my career I used the devotional device of the icon to make a series of paintings called Healing Palms. These paintings were developed by observing the healing powers of the natural order as the Floridan landscape recovered from fires that raced across the peninsula. The Sabal Palmetto was the first to recover sprouting new green fronds as soon as the embers cooled. I replaced religious imagery in the icons with characters from the natural order.

Thinking of ways to make the visitor experience for Feast of Flowers transcendent I started with basic ecclesiastical forms. There is a controlled symmetry evident in renaissance design. Formality rules. One early decision I made was to keep the dimensions of the paintings regular. I restricted the canvas heights to either 48" or 72". My friend Donald Dusinberre made dark wooden frames. The materials for the surrounds was procured by another friend, Aaron Douglas. He set up a sawmill and milled indigenous woods from inadvertent collection. The trees were local live oak, cherry, pecan etc. These trees were felled as part of storms or taken down for building projects. I paired the species with the images portrayed on canvas.

I sat in the gallery anonymously as visitors marched through. I heard various sighs, and gasps and saw faces glistening with tears. My intention was not to make people cry but they did. I don't think that there was anything especially transcendent about the individual paintings. They were fine. I did my best. By appropriating the effects used in ecclesiastical installations I was able to manufacture a transcendent experience.

It is impossible to separate art, religion, politics, social engagement, fashion and decoration. All of these and more are part of an ever-evolving cultural landscape. Artists, designers, musicians and writers create new works in which they allude to the richly appointed past. Culture is a constantly evolving sphere. Each twist and turn takes the spectator into a new direction. The goal of the creator is to use each and every cultural reference available in order to make a statement or get across and idea. My idea in creating the Feast of Flowers exhibition was to celebrate the nature of the Floridan landscape instead of those who wished to conquer it. I'm not sure if everyone understood my intent, I'm OK with that. But I do know that few visitors left the exhibition thinking that it was not important.

This painting was created to memorialize a place on the Julington Durbin peninsula in Jacksonville, Florida. I hike the trail there often and am constantly thankful this land was set aside for us to have access to the marginal ecosystems of the St. Johns River. The peninsula is formed by Julington Creek on the north and Durbin Creek on the south. The property offers a unique laboratory for those who want to visit various ecosystems within a short stroll. The upper part of the land is typical sandy long leaf pine system with a varied understory of wire grass and assorted herbaceous perennials. A spur trail heads south to the always wet Durbin Creek backwater. This is where I found this specimen. I stood on a bridge and looked into the flower.

Buttonbush is an ubiquitous marginal native found in the southeastern US. Its abundance overshadows its distinctive beauty. Close study reveals an otherworldly form. It seems like it was designed as a mid-twentieth century spaceship. Satellite.

When I made this painting I wanted to draw attention to this plant that is seen often in the ditches as we drive seventy miles an hour down an interstate. I try to break as many rules of composition as possible when I paint. On this particular painting I chose the square format then I drew diagonal lines corner to corner. I placed a compass at the point dead center of the picture plane. Drew a circle. This image evoked all sorts of thoughts. Bullseye, the singular die cast, a focus, on and on.

My goal was to put the image of the flower dead center and also have it the lightest value in the composition. This presented the problem of breaking up the negative space in order to achieve all the other necessary elements of a successful composition.

The end result works for me. The dead-center focal point is both off-putting and soothing. The spectator is drawn into a delightful other-worldly ecosystem that is actually part of a commonplace scene.

I'm fascinated with language. My position as a late-in-life-literate helps me explore the nuanced ideas that an image can bring. The intent of this painting is to call attention to those scenes we catch from the corner of our eyes as we travel life's highways. I memorialize them and celebrate the characters in the margins.

The Suwannee River heads up in the northern perimeter of the Okefenokee swamp. It crosses the Florida state line south of Fargo, Georgia and meanders south and west on its way to the Gulf of Mexico. I met this beauty soon after launching my kayak from the Turner Bridge ruins in Hamilton County, Florida. I placed the trunk in a position so that the viewer must circumnavigate the massive eroded root mass in order to travel the river. This particular section of the river is lined with both Bald Cypress and Tupelo trees. Heavy rains and high water rip through the narrow trough in this section. The force sculpts and shapes the stream bank and the vegetation.

This tree is about a quarter mile's paddle up the Suwannee river from the above Cypress. This tree Nyssa ogeche, lines this part of the Suwannee river. The spring blossoms are full of nectar for honey bees. The famous nectar, Tupelo Honey is produced by these trees. In the fall the drupes plop into the river and seed themselves along the margins.

This tidal marsh is on the property formerly owned by Willie Browne. He preserved this land and made sure it stayed undisturbed in perpetuity. It is part of the Timucuan Preserve in northeast Jacksonville, Florida. I often present a guide in paintings. In this case it is the Gulf Fritillary butterfly.

I've been around art for quite a while. Making, teaching, exhibiting, curating, writing, talking. I've done a bit of all of it. At the end of the day the most tedious and difficult artistic arena is what a lot of us refer to as "message art." Of course, all artistic endeavors should be able to convey either information or attitude and on occasion, opinion. But the visual images that are full of symbolism and messages have a tendency to become burdensome. There were so many ideas and feelings I wanted to express in the Feast of Flowers projects I had to significantly limit the obviously informative aspects in the visual component of the exhibition.

My readings about the early European exploration and colonization of the mainland United States evoked countless concepts I felt worthy of highlighting. My assistant, Staci BuShea and I decided to publish a book along with the exhibition. This work was intended to offer other creators an opportunity to express themselves when confronted with the five-hundredth anniversary of Florida. We put out feelers within our community seeking ideas. Invited several people to participate and received a wealth of information. Publishing the book in print became out-of-the-question so we decided the digital route would work best.

During the next few weeks I hope to figure out a way to offer the entire digital file for your perusal. For the time being, I'll talk more about using artistic venue to get across ideas.

This digital book gave us the opportunity to publish documents such as the Requirement of 1513, a religious document the explorers read in Spanish to the native population. This work in essence absolved the Spanish explores for the carnage inflicted upon the indigenous populations.

This document as it is read in Spanish offers the local populations a path to salvation and lets them know that if they do not surrender to Christianity and to Spain that they will be slaughtered. A powerful message, for sure.

This little spot of land is one of the westernmost of the Ten Thousand Islands off the western shore of Florida.

All in all the Feast of Flowers exhibition along with the digital publication and a series of lectures at The Cummer Museum of Art and Gardens was loaded with content. Some messages were subtle, some subliminal, and some were obviously laid out for all to see.

It's a bit hard to believe that the Feast of Flowers experience was begun more than a dozen years ago. It was a time I forced myself to dig deeply into my work, made time for full immersion into a topic and produce an exhibition that was more than just a selection of pretty pictures. I learned quite a bit during the process, what to do and certainly what not to do. After the exhibition went up I spent a bit of time fulfilling promises made during the Kickstarter campaign. The Cummer Museum of Art and Gardens reported that more than forty-thousand visitors witnessed the exhibition.

I can't imagine putting this work together without the help of more people than I can list here. Primarily Staci BuShea and Donnie Dusenberre but also dear friends such as Crystal Floyd, George Cornwell, Dolf James, David Ponsler, Allison Watson, Hope McMath, Holly Kerris, Debra Murphy and a host of friends and family who believed in the project and helped make it a reality.

I spent the balance of the year 2013 finalizing projects and exploring new ideas. Staci and I put together a curriculum called Full Immersion. It was an conceptual exploration we offered as a workshop.

I started moving into a different headspace then. Realized that making art and putting together exhibitions was in effect limiting unless a proper context was provided. During the next year, 2014, I settled on pushing myself to explore writing. I signed up for a session of the Shantyboat writing workshop with Lynn Skapyak Harlin. What a journey that has been. Today Lynn and I finished the final edits and organization of 23 pieces of short fiction. These stories, either in part of total, were a product of the Shantyboat. The next post you'll see from me will talk about my segue into the craft of words.