Uncovering Our History Through The Relics Left Behind
Posted in Art
The paintings felt right at home, settling into the comfortable warmth of my neighbor’s living room with its soft pastel yellow walls. Recessed lighting from the ceiling illuminated “Survivor” framed inside a space above the…
First, I saw the skull. It was dark heavy metal with screws in its ears. My eyes traveled down the art piece – I assumed that’s what it was since it was mounted on weathered wood…
Most of the carved heads were displayed so high atop furniture that I had to stand back to get a good look at them. I had searched for them specifically at the auction house because…
Posted in Art
No one would take Linda home. I couldn’t blame them because she looked like one miserable person, without a tinge of hope. Her face was drawn, her stare vacant. So when her portrait came up for…
During an auction preview recently, I was flipping through some framed paintings propped against a wall when I came upon one without a frame. It was a pencil drawing with a faded and worn mat that…
Posted in Art, Black history, Culture, and travel
We weren’t sure where we were going. My travel buddy’s smart phone was offering directions by car, not on foot. But Oaks Bluff was a walkable little town, and I was determined to find the…
Posted in Art, Black history, and furniture
The name Lewis Tanner Moore kept popping up on the auction sheet in descriptions of several pieces of artwork. I recognized the names of the artists, including Allan Freelon and Paul Keene, both acclaimed Philadelphia…
Posted in Art
I don’t remember the first time I saw the human-size busts that are the signature artwork of sculptor Woodrow Nash. From a distance they resembled stylish wood carvings – men and women with scarifications of African…
Posted in Art
The scene reminded me of Thomas Hart Benton. An old pickup truck sat parked near a railroad crossing as the driver engaged in a conversation with a man idling at his door. Coming towards them was…
Posted in Art
The disappointment in my friend’s Valorie’s voice was palpable. She had missed the amazing oil painting of a guitar player by an African American artist named Samuel Countee. It was hanging on a wall near…
