Catching Up

Where to begin...

Where to begin. 2022… 2023… OMG it's already halfway through February of 2024. Soon, I will be saying, “A year ago I was in Ireland”. Here are some highlights of the last 25 1/2 months.

2022 was a blur

The move

I work from home in my studio or my office. It is a perfect life for and artist introvert. The pandemic allowed me more dedicated time to be in my two favorite rooms of my house.

But my neighbors sure do love their lawn mowers, leaf blowers, and weed whackers. I began to sound like a cross between The Grinch and the theme song from Green Acres. I began to sound cross.

Field of dreams

I dreamt of the country. I dreamt of salt marshes and farmers’ fields. I dreamt literally one night of banana trees—specifically the sound they make as they clap together.

We searched for a place farther outside of Charleston. We exhausted all the relevant possibilities, so we traveled out to Edisto Island just for something to do. We were sure it was too far.

We were way passed the intercoastal waterway, as we drove down country roads and onto a dirt road past a farmer’s field. When we pulled into the lot, the large stand of banana trees was waving in the sea air—saying, "Welcome home, Susan."

The plan

We sold our house and built a tiny house. Really, a small cottage on stilts. A modified shed. I’m too old for a loft bed.

The purge

When we lived in West Ashley, it was planned to be our last house. The edict, post-mortem, was to call the local art teacher to come take the entire lot from the studio.

Everything left over from Fabulon was in my attic or garage. I collect stuff,  lots of stuff. The process of touching, accessing, and categorizing everything I own was monumental. It was hard to let go of things that I'd carried from one place to another. There were remnants of projects to be finished and supplies for those to be started.

Five storage units later...

We moved into our cottage mid-December, 2022. Within days, we discovered a wild boar under the house. Our well and pipes froze in that cold spell at Christmas.

My studio is my kitchen, dining room, and living room. My husband is gracious about paint palettes on the stove and canvases in front of the fridge.

Now, I live among the palm trees. There are about 500. It is very quiet. Our goal is to build a house with a real studio space. Someday, the cute cottage will be a guest retreat for artists. But that is a future story.

2023 came and went

January, February whizzed by as I packed up for my first artists residency. I was accepted into the most wonderful opportunity. Olive Stack Gallery offers artists a chance to live and work in Ireland for one month. Then I spent a week after with my husband.

It was life changing. I stayed in County Kerry, Ireland, in a quintessential village at the foothills of beautiful vistas and green pastures.

Ireland calls

There will be stories and art inspired by my time here. So much so that I am overwhelmed. I need to let them out more slowly.

Since we have been back, we have consumed every documentary and travel show about England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland so we can plan our next trip. But for me, Ireland is my true heart home, and I need not travel anywhere else.

I will go back. I must because my ancestors are buried there. I must because there are living relatives I still need to meet.

Ancestry and me

While in Ireland, I walked the hallowed ground of some ancestors in the family tree. I stood in the remnants of the church where my great grandfather was baptized. This experience stirred something in me.

Returning home felt like I was leaving some part of me behind. To soothe my aching heart, I became obsessed with 23 and Me and Ancestry.com. Now, my small family tree has branches with more names and dates of people I never knew existed. I want to know them.  I want to honor them.

Augusta

Leading up to Ireland, I shared a vital art experience with three other amazing women. We were acquainted, and thought we should Zoom regularly to chat all things art and fill each other’s buckets as needed.

This quartet quickly melded into the most amazing and fulfilling experience for all of us. Two went to Ireland in February, and two went in March—me and my art bestie, Laura.

Shortly after we got back, this group called The Well had a show in Augusta, GA. More stories to come.

Kicked out

My cottage life became a major game of Tetris. It was impeding the creative flow.

I was working on a series of 28 18”x18” works on paper. A lesser roommate would have caved at paint on the stove. One day, it was obvious that I wasn’t gazing into my husband’s eyes across the dinner table but looking past him thinking, “That area there needs some more texture”.

That was the day it was decided that I should call the new garden shed my studio.

Meanwhile

The underlying theme of these years was more profound than stuff and space. It’s been the time of me.

I thought I knew me—where I’d been and where I was going. But, I went to the land of my heritage and Ireland changed me.

In June of 2023, I turned 60. Age is just a number, but that number is powerful. The time ahead is shorter than the time behind. Now is the time for me to step out of my self, really put myself out in the world, and tell my stories in art and in writing.

People

I was happy being introverted. I had my Well and my friends. Those people that get you and love you anyway. But, there were still people who thought my name was actually Fabulon as well as the name of the gallery I once owned. It was time for a new brand.

I knew I needed help organizing my thoughts and presenting my stories. Sean is that guru. He saw me, he heard me. He synthesized all that is me into images and fonts and a logo. Sean and his team packaged this all into this new website.