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Warehouse Theatre

Joe and Kelly Shull

Eliot Dudik

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©2011 All Rights Reserved

These pages are the labor of many talented hands, from writing, design and editing, to sales and marketing. We encourage you to

contact us with any feedback or story ideas at our website. Please support the artists, your community leaders and advertisers. For advertising information please contact us at: 803.386.9031 or ads@undefinedmagazine.com

Herman Thompson

Whitney LeJeune

Laura Spong

Renee Rouillier

Kwame Dawes

O’Neal Compton

Book Fourteen : 2011

Artists Among Us

Poetry: Exorcism

Laura Spong, “Why?”. Oil on Canvas. 30x90”. 2010

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Philip Mullen: undefined magazine Book 15 Guest EditorIn 1963 Philip Mullen’s professor punched him out and later saidPhilip was the worst student he had ever had. In 1969 Mullenmoved to Columbia and the Columbia Museum purchased hispainting/assemblage “Cola. Wall” in November of that same year.After it was shown, eighty four (84) people petitioned themuseum to never show his work again.

In 1975 Mullen’s work was part of the prestigious WhitneyBiennial, shown at the Whitney Museum in New York. He movedto New York later that year and rented Andy Warhol’s old factory

as a studio/residence. He subsequently joined David FindlayGalleries which led to fifteen (15) solo exhibitions in New York.Now, a Distinguished Professor emeritus at USC and surprised tofind himself a part of the art establishment, he is excited to beguest editor for the November issue of undefined.

Philip says “undefined is an incredible magazine for anymarket. Columbia is very lucky to have it here due to the couragethe magazine has shown in what it will present and the highquality of the physical magazine.”

This brief overview initiates the art conceptgefaltet Natur,(folded nature). The evolution ofgefaltet Natur follows the concept of graffiti artwhose placement in familiar surroundings is leftto be interpreted by those who happen upon it.Similarly, gefaltet Natur involves unexplainedplacement in publications also lending itself todiscovery and interpretation by those who notice.

A signing of the gefaltet Natur at a date muchlater than its initial presentation affirms themetaphor that nature is there for those who seekit,and that nature’s complex interactions areoften folded in complex ways often undetectedand disregarded by a civilization focused ondominance and popular culture.

gefaltet NaturThe University of South Carolina has had a big year in 2011, but it’snowhere near the end, especially with their newest addition, The SouthCarolina Festival of Dance sponsored by the USC Dance Program. The 3day festival kicks off October 7, with the showcasing of some of SouthCarolina’s professional dance companies in the state-of-the-art KogerCenter for the Arts.

Susan Anderson, the brains behind the operation said, “I’m so proudof our dance program that I really wanted to show it off.” And showing itoff is exactly what they plan on doing.

“I thought it would be great if we brought the professionals and thedancers in training together to learn from each other and have anenriching experience,” said Anderson. The festival is open to dancers 11and up, with previous dance experience a must. 

Kindra Becker, a graduate student at the University of South Carolina,has been instrumental in the programs progress. “Susan brought up theidea of writing a grant to the Provost Office for the festival and after wegot it, we ran with it. It turned into something I didn’t expect and it’sbecome a great opportunity,” said Becker. “There’s something here foreverybody.” Not only does the festival offer the opportunity to see SouthCarolina dancers at their best, but it offers a wide variety of classesfrom beginner to professional, such as jazz, hip hop, musical theatreand ballet technique taught by some of the state’s most influentialdance faculty.

To learn more about the festival and participation, visitwww.cas.sc.edu/dance or call the university dance program main officeat (803) 777-5636.

South Carolina Festival of Dance

First Annual Photography ContestWe invite you to submit your work for our first photography competition. Submissions arenot limited to any theme and can be entered in either the Professional or Student/Amateurcategories. Color and BW photos accepted. Enter as many times as you would like. The topwinners will have their work published in undefined magazine's photo issue, January 2012

For more information visit www.undefinedmagazine.com or send an e-mail to:photos@undefinedmagazine.com.

11

When you think about recycling, you may think blue bins filledwith cans swept away to a recycling center in hopes of betteringthe planet; but if you were actually thinking artistic celebrationof the 400th anniversary of the King James Bible, you win. Andif you were, then you and Columbia, SC artist Tim Floyd were onthe same wavelength.

“I stumbled onto a piece of interesting information,” Floydsaid about the anniversary. “I’m a Christian and the Bible hasbeen a major influence on my life and our culture and itsurprised me that I hadn’t heard much about it this year. Ithought it was pretty awesome and I should do something.” So heput his artistic ingenuity to work.

“I’m always exploring with different materials and new waysto approach art. Part of my training in graphic design is problemsolving and finding a solution. If you think about it like that, thisidea of letting people know about the anniversary was a problemand the solution was printing the book of Matthew on paperlabels and attaching them to cans.  Once assembled it will com-pose a face of the author the book was written by.” Simple solu-tion, right?

Floyd who works with many mediums in various fields, specif-ically graphic design and fine art, was greatly influenced byChuck Close for this work in progress. The finished product willbe comprised of 360 cans and stand around 6 feet tall. The grid-like design will require various colored paper pieces be attached

to each can. On those pieces ofpaper, the book of Matthew willbe printed so that when thework is assembled, you will notonly be able to read the entirebook, but the   colors willportray the face of theauthor.   “It’s different, If I hadjust done that as a painting itwould have been ok, butdoing it in more contempo-rary materials makes it moreinteresting,” said Floyd.

“My daughter, Felicia, and I aredoing this together,” Floyd stated. “She did all the colors andtypography.” While she may have muscular dystrophy, that doesnot hold her back from designing the labels and layout of themassive piece by using a special computer software and a singleclicker. “It’s been fun working with my daughter. She is veryartistic, but she just can’t move her hands or arms to create likeyou or I.”

The duo who have been working on the piece for three weeks,expect it to take another month to finish up. There are no setplans as to where the work will show at its completion, but Floydand Wendy Wells at City Art are playing with a few ideas.

Tim Floyd Celebrates the Bible

Off Menu with Kristian

Roy's on Waikiki Beach226 Lewers Street(808)923-7697, roysrestaurant.comA culinary rock star, Roy Yamaguchicontinues to blow up the minds andpalates of mainlanders from both sidesof the Pacific. Start with his signaturemartini of pineapple-infused rum, thenget a half-order of his world famousbutterfish. From there, the menu is youroyster, brimming with culinary pearls.This place is so good, you may find your-self dining here more than once.

Yama's Fish Market 2332 Young Street(808) 941-9994, yamasfishmarket.comLocated on a side street in the Moiliiliarea of Honolulu, this place is nothing tolook at from the exterior...or the interior,for that matter. However, what happenson the inside is pure Hawaiian magic. Ifyou want authentic Hawaiian food at dirt-cheap prices, look no further. Choosefrom an amazing array of Poke, Kalua Pigor their fantastic lau laus (meat wrappedin taro leaf, then steamed) and then headout to the beach or local park (like PearlHarbor) to enjoy.

Alan Wong's 1857 S. King Street(808)949-2526, alanwongs.comA founding father of New HawaiianCuisine and chef to the president, AlanWong's bustling namesake restaurant islocated in a nondescript office buildinga few blocks away from the busy streetsof Waikiki. Once inside, however,NOTHING is nondescript! Be sure totry one of their hand-crafted cocktailswhile perusing the ultra-fresh menu.For a surefire hit, order the LobsterLasagna. Its a revelation.

If you think the Hawaiian Islands are simply beautiful, tropical islands with a mediocre food scene, you'd be very mistaken. Forget theawful poi and hit some of these gems for a true sense of what Hawaii has to offer.

Kauai Grill at the St. Regis Princeville, 5520 Ka Haku Road (808)826.9644 www.kauaigrill.comOn the rustic island of Kauai, treat yourself to an amazing meal at the Kauai Grill, located at the St. Regis Resort in Princeville. A yearor so ago, world-famous super-chef Jean-Georges Vongrichten took over the food operations at the St. Regis. Since then, it hasquickly vaulted into the top spot of ALL Hawaiian restaurants under the innovative reigns of Chef de Cuisine Colin Hamaza. To keepthis brief, I can simply say this...if you go to Kauai and don't eat at this magnificent restaurant, you are wrong. It may be a bit spendy,but it is worth EVERY penny.

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“indigenous” adj. originating or occurring naturally ina particular place; native

Not one to take issue with the editors at the New OxfordAmerican Dictionary, my own experience with indigenousSouth Carolina film has occurred most un-naturally.

Working as a production assistant on Jeff Sumerel’s wistfulshort film PLOW THE SKY in the spring of 1992, I knew I’d metsomeone truly unique: an ingenious-indigenous South Carolinafilmmaker. SKY’s narrative—a dubious tale of a carnival “divingmule”—was so utterly unexpected.

“I kept seeing that old amusement park on the side of thehighway,” Sumerel explains, “It was telling me the story of adiving mule.”

Sumerel says his films find him. Each is inspired by a foundobject. And sometimes the object found is a person.

“Theodore Gottlieb (aka Brother Theodore) found me inGreenwich Village in the spring of 2000,” he says of the subjectfor his most recent film, TO MY GREAT CHAGRIN.

“I asked him why a filmmaker from the Deep South should behis biographer, and he said that he had always been an outsider:‘just like you!’”

Sumerel’s most recent work, an idiosyncratic gallery exhibitof “digital art” titled Exhibition of 16 Vignettes, demonstrates histendency to arrive at the party first….before any of the otherguests have arrived.

“Finding an audience for my films is not unlike how the workitself is born,” he explains with a smile, “The audience has to findme.”

Indeed, the cutting edge can be a lonely place. It is territoryartistic innovators must make their peace with, yes…but it isalso the rarified space the undefined audience craves.

Indeed, artistically unambitious SC movies can go watchthemselves.

But…if a South Carolina filmmaker is striving for CriterionCollection excellence, they should be enthusiastically embraced.It’s just not enough for local folks to make films; we need themto make great films.

We need more Jeff Sumerels.Support authentic South Carolina film. Jeff Sumerel’s 2009

feature-length documentary on the life of macabre performanceartist, Brother Theodore, TO MY GREAT CHAGRIN, hasscreened has prestigious film festivals all over the world—including Columbia’s Indie Grits Festival.

Find it here: spontaneous.net.

SC Film Comment by Chris White

Executive Director Nicholai Burton describes Park Circle Films(at “The Olde North Charleston Picture House”) as community-mandated.

“There was a vote to determine what the locals wanted most.Grocery store won, followed closely by coffeehouse,” he says.“Independent cinema ran a respectable third…and that wecould afford.”

Burton’s friendly collective of Lowcountry cinephiles gatherseach Saturday night at 7:00 sharp to take in a smartly curatedcollection of bright new works by emerging filmmakers fromacross the globe (with a cult favorite sprinkled in on occasion sono one gets all uppity). Admission is five bucks…unless you’re amember of the Park Circle Film Society. Then you get in for two.

Chris White, Undefined Magazine Film Editor, is an indigenous South Carolina filmmaker who grew up in the Midlands, makes his home in theUpstate, and escapes to the SC coast every chance he gets. His latest feature is TAKEN IN (2011). www.ChrisWhiteHQ.com

strokesSC ScreensNorth Charleston’s friendly, neighborhood cinema: Park Circle Films

Cinema TrouvéGreenville’s Jeff Sumerel finds films where we least expect them

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Warehouse Theatrehas sold out without selling out

Paul Savas ambles into the coffee shop wearing a chalk-striped, navy blue suitcoat more evocative of the “Executive Director” part of his title, than its“Artistic Director” rejoinder.

Suddenly self-conscious, I stand taller. Scan the room for a place to sit. I’mwearing a suit coat, too. And I think he notices when I button it.

Such is our custom, we men over forty who make plays and write magazinearticles for a living. Should we have a business-like meeting to attend, we tendto throw on one of our dad’s sport coats. Means we’re serious about our work.Practically shouts it.

“How’s the swimming?” I ask, referring to the 3,500 gallon, on-stage pool thatSavas’s wife Shannon Robert just designed and built for The WarehouseTheatre’s current play, Metamorphoses.

“Did you see the pictures?” he practically demands, eyes wide.

“Very cool,” I admit with a nod.

“Just wait’ll you see the show!”

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Paul Savas and Shannon Robert came to TheWarehouse Theatre from New York City four yearsago with impressive professional theatre resumesand a compelling vision to for Greenville’s first“alternative” playhouse.

“We’re a community theatre,” Savas says. “And I know thatsounds unprofessional to some people, or lacking in quality. Butwe’re building this community theatre in a professionalmanner…living within our means and producing great plays.”

It is this sensible approach that is so refreshing when one visitsThe Warehouse Theatre. Staff and volunteers find a true sense ofcommunity in the work. These aren’t theatre hobbyists or dramadabblers. This is a theatre community that is serious aboutcreating great work. And the audience is responding.

Last season saw nearly 44 consecutive sell-out performances.That is unheard of success for any theatre company—butespecially in Greenville, South Carolina.

And it flies in the face of advice rendered by many so-calledcommunity theatre experts who breathlessly advocate theprogramming of light comedies and musicals to attract largeaudiences in medium-sized, suburban cities.

Since taking the reigns of The Warehouse Theatre in 2007,Savas has programmed consistently serious mainstage seasons,

while allowing for smaller scale, “studio” productions, late nightcomedy performances, and community forums. The mix hascaught on. Greenville residents of all ages and backgrounds aremore likely than ever to find themselves in The WarehouseTheatre’s cozy exposed red brick and heart pine lobby.

If he’s not acting on stage, you are most likely to find Paul Savaspouring you a generous glass of wine at the theatre’s concessionbar. While his pour is quite liberal, the way he manages thetheatre’s books is not.

“My dad was a corporate businessman,” he says. “I like to thinkI picked up some of his money management skills.”

Must be. The Warehouse Theatre is among the best-managedand most financially stable arts organizations in SouthCarolina…and, perhaps, the Southeast.

Since his arrival, Savas has concerned himself with fiduciarysoundness and artistic aspiration. This balanced approach hasbeen well-received…especially by his Board of Directors whowelcomed him to the job with a dim financial report.

“It was bad. No one to blame, just…poor businessmanagement. We spent more than we took in.” Savas says thismatter-of-factly. Like a corporate CEO. “We’re finally in the black.But…we’re not out of the woods by any means.”

With funding for the arts under attack at the federal and state

level, austerity in arts organizations is no longer just “goodpractice.” It’s do or die.

“I want this theatre to do more, be better…I’ve got a list.Things I want to see us do here in the next five, ten, fifteen years,”his voice rises in volume. People nearby notice. “But we have todo the little things right now. And little by little I know we’ll getthere.”

The theatre’s current production of Ovid’s “Metamorphoses” isa perfect example of getting the little things right.

“We look for an intriguing hook when we select plays for ourseason,” Savas explains, “The cool thing is, we’ve found thatpeople are intrigued by artists who strive for something bold.”

Bold is something of an understatement in the case of “TheMetamorphoses.” Ever seen a play performed in a three-footswimming pool?

Shannon Robert, the play’s director and designer, describesOvid’s epic Roman poem as flood-like. “Essentially, Ovid’s poemchronicles the ancient Greek myths. But it’s gorgeous,lyrical…stories flow into one another like a symphony.”

Indeed, Robert’s pool gives the production a tactile sense thatis rare in the theatre: it’s wet. The stage itself is alive…shimmering, ebbing and flowing.

“It took almost seven hours to fill,” she says, “Of course, it’ll

only take seven minutes to drain.” This is a joke…a knock onwood. This pool won’t break. It’s built like a battleship. Butstill…there is a risk. She and Savas take it in stride.

“If I wanted safety and security, I wouldn’t have told my parentsI wanted to be an actor,” Savas confesses.

Thus begins the 38th season at The Warehouse Theatre—anepic Roman poem, lyrically acted in a swimming pool. Tickets areselling quickly. There is talk of extending the run.

Next up: Bernard Pomerance’s The Elephant Man.Savas and Robert promise that there will be no prosthetic

devices used to create John Merrick’s ghastly form in theproduction. It will be intensity, intimacy that will force the audi-ence to look at what we’d prefer not to.

“And the pool, of course,” Robert says with a grin. “After all thatwent into building that pool, we’re playing the entire seasonin it.”

The Warehouse Theatre is working. Small, simplesteps…smart programming choices marked by artisticambition…and a friendly, winning way.

Savas voice on the other end of the theatre’s telephoneanswering machine says it all: “We spell theatre the pretentiousway, but I assure you, we are not.”

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skeleton doll on the doorknob from Tim Burton’s TheNightmare Before Christmas; the Dali clock; andcreations from the low-brow artist Mark Ryden, “whichyou can find in every room—walk around, he’severywhere.”

“I’ve always been a fan of the surrealists, like Dali,and I’ve always been a huge Warhol fan too. My favoriteWarhol quote is here on the wall and I always tellpeople this: art is what you can get away with. I’m afirm believer in that,” Joe says.

But where does Jellykoe art come from? “Joe just has a crazy mind,” Kelly confirms. Joe’s paintings, of a “lowbrow” style influenced by

pop culture, old cartoons, the theater of the absurd, andtattoo designs—“all the stuff that I really like”—originate on the backs of restaurant order sheets fromRuth’s Chris Steak House, where Joe works. One sidereads ‘Table #, server;’ the other reveals a wildlycreative sketch. “When I’m at work or anywhere and Ithink of an idea, I immediately sketch it out. If I like itwell enough, I save it in my folder. I never sit down andstare at a blank canvas, like, ‘what should I paint?’ I flipthrough my folder to see what sparks my attention thatday.”

Joe pulls out an accordion folder and leafs throughsome drawings. He’s organized the folder by category,including heartwarming topics like blood, skulls, andcannibals. But the sketches aren’t scary. The bald,nose-less cartoons with the odd tooth or two stickingout of their grins induce much more laughter thanfright. The paintings capitalize on word-play: one enti-tled “Stockholm” depicts a wide-eyed creature smilingbenignly at the happy pewter ball chained to his leg; “Heart toHeart to Heart” shows a joyful skull atop a long rib cagecontaining three red shapes. The couple recalls another painting:a creature wearing a dunce hat holding poop on a stick.

“We’ll have that one for a while,” Kelly had said, but it sold atits first showing. A woman in her thirties pointed to itexclaiming, “I want that one! This reminds me of my son!”Joe used to do impressionist cityscapes, like the primary-coloredpainting hanging above the living room couch. His work shiftedtowards surrealism, eventually settling into the lowbrow style,which is also known as pop surrealism. Kelly’s plush toys have asimilar look to Joe’s paintings.

“The dolls cross over into folk art, just because they have amore primitive aesthetic, with unraveled seams and stuff likethat,” Kelly explains. This keeps the dolls from appearing toopolished. Impressively, each of the 500 dolls Kelly has made isdifferent. “We never do the same one in the same fabric twice.We want people to have something one-of-a-kind.” This is onefactor that separates the dolls from mass-produced toys—each isa special art piece.

Though the Wonky Dolls first came into being as Christmaspresents for the couple’s nieces two years ago, teenagers andyoung adults are the biggest fans of the plush toys. “From the startwe didn’t really have kids in mind,” Joe says.

The dolls, like the paintings, have a cute but creepy

construction, which is based on a background story. Kelly and Joeare in the process of publishing a book compiling each doll’spersonal history. Kelly holds up a plush rabbit made of twomismatching patterns. “His story is that he was cut in half andthen sewn together backwards. If you don’t know that storyyou’re like, what the heck is wrong with this bunny?!” Tales ofWonk and Woe will combine Kelly’s dolls, Joe’s illustrations, andthe couple’s degrees in English.

“Yes, our degrees!”“Mom and Dad, we did it!”Besides the book’s eminent release party, the Jellykoe duo has

some exciting gallery shows approaching. On September 17th,“Lower than Lowbrow,” a solo show hosted by Café Chartier inLexington will take place from six to ten. Joe and Kelly also willbe involved with First Thursday, a monthly event to revitalizeMain Street and promote Columbia artists. On October 6th, localartist Amanda Ladymon will fill S & S Art Supply with Jellykoecreations, as well as hors d’oeuvres, wine and a DJ. “We’re makinghuge five to six foot tall plushes to decorate her store frontwindow,” Joe says excitedly. This show, called “CartoonLove/Cartoon Violence,” will last into November.

“We’re just thankful we’ve come so far,” Joe exclaims earnestly.“You never want to set your sites too high, but every step’s been

a step up, and it’s exciting to think how far we could go with this.If this could be our whole life it would be a fun life,” Joe says,

and then laughs. “Already is a fun life!”

story: Allison Day photography: Heather Fowler

Imagine a drive that should take 2 hours, turning into a 14 hourescapade, every weekend for the span of one and a half years.That is the basis of the “love story” between Eliot Dudik andCharleston’s lowcountry.

This modern day explorer “fell in love with Charleston andjumped on the chance to live there” when he moved fromMaryland to attend the College of Charleston as an undergraduatestudent. “That’s when I devoted my life to photography anddecided that’s what I wanted to do for the rest of my life,” Dudikexplained.

The dedicated photographer became inspired by the backroads he passed during the trip from his Charleston apartmentto his graduate classes at the Savannah College of Art and Designalong highway U.S. Route 17. With his large format view camerain tow, his agenda became to“pick a different back road Ihadn’t been on. Explore theroads and see what I cameacross and who I met.”

In a 10 to 12 hour period,Dudik may capture, at most, 20shots since the large formatcamera is such a slow process,not that taking the extra time“exploring and driving around”bothered the lowcountry lover.

His adventures turned intohis first monograph, which hefittingly named “ROAD ENDSIN WATER.” This seriesshowcases the landscape,rivers, people, and architecturethat Dudik was captured by andhis goal is for the photographsto capture the audience in thesame way. “The idea of culturesthat are nestled in the woodsand marshes being destroyedby commerce and transporta-tion really scared me andevolved into this project. This isa love story about the area andan opportunity for recognition and preservation of the lifestylethere now. The portraits stare back at the viewer in order toforce an interaction and conversation, and attempt to extinguishany chance of disregard.” said Dudik passionately.

The shots lure the viewer into Snuffy’s House, filled with taxi-dermy deer heads, the deep woods for the A.B.A.T.E. Biker Rally,Antioch Baptist Church to see the lone Thelma on Valentine’sDay, and into the Sacred Space off of Muckenfus Road. Bud,

Cam & Hayden, Jimmy Mac, Anthony, Betty, Wimpy, and BuddyBaily are just a few more of the faces and lifestyles you will getto know along the way.

“I am still in contact with some of the people I photographedand I return to exchange photographs and books with the folkswho worked with me,” recalled the photographer about hisconnection to the people in his series.

Dudik graduated in 2010 with his Masters of Fine Art inphotography. Before graduation, he assembled the series ofphotographs into a photo book. The book and the photographsthemselves will be the featured show at Art + Cayce Gallery onSeptember 9 at 6pm running through October 9.

Recently, Dudik became an adjunct professor in the photodepartment at the University of South Carolina. “Teaching is my

main focus, but I am in the beginning stages of a couple newprojects, and am still very much invested in this body of work,”said Dudik.

To check out Dudik’s work and maybe purchase a piece ofyour own lowcountry experience, visit his website atwww.eliotdudik.com.

Eliot Dudik has traveled a different road

photography

story: erin emory

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Renee Rouillier’s ceramic sculptures often stop viewers in theirtracks, halting them long enough to conjure up their ownversions of the story the piece is trying to tell them. Like imageryfrom art of the Surrealists and German Expressionists, to whosework the artist has long been drawn, there may be lurkingwithin her pieces an edge, a dark side – or an unforeseen sideof reality.

Rouillier’s art continues to turn, evolve, even though she hasprogressed now far beyond her initial and protracted “vessel”period. Speaking of art in the round, she arrived at ceramicscircuitously, having worked her around many of fine arts’ genres:drawing, painting, and textiles. But she seldom circles backanymore. So smitten was she with ceramics when she discoveredthis medium, she decided to continue learning, building, and intime that decision became her ticket – so far, one way - toColumbia, and the University of South Carolina into whoseMaster of Fine Arts program she was accepted. After shecompleted her degree, she was an adjunct faculty member foreight years, loving the opportunity to work with students andloving being involved in their creative development.

“When I tried ceramics, I knew that was it,” Rouillier recalledof her formative art studies in Brockport, New York, close to theCanadian border her forebears crossed. “I love the mind-handconnection, love how malleable the material is, love being ableto forge something from it.” It has not been unusual for herto make ceramic pieces multi-media by weaving or carvingon them.

Yet, in getting up to her elbows into clay, she didn’t leavebehind any of those earlier forms of creativity; in each of herevocative clay sculptures, all the other media still come into play– and that is no pun. Every work has been a culmination of herearlier art making, only now there are slips and glazes, and clayto receive her evocative concepts.

Her creations appeal to other homo sapiens because they arelifelike. Rouillier’s highly-conceptual clay sculpture is craftedwith obvious notes taken from the human form; they are imbuedwith lifelike characteristics – you might even say a bit ofattitude, and often with playful adaptations. Donna Green ofSouthern Pottery, where Rouillier’s work is represented,described the pieces as “very personal – profound.”

How each viewer or “touchy-feeler” responds to her texturalart is as inimitable as the piece itself. “I am honored whensomeone buys my work,” said the gentile-speaking Rouillier.

“But I have to admit it has been hard sometimes for me to let apiece go. I am fortunate that I know where many of my piecesare, who bought them, and that gives me great pleasure andcomfort.” Rouillier keeps some of the clay sculptures around –they are good company. They inhabit her home and take theirplaces on walls, tablescapes, and ledges alongside collectedworks by colleagues and other artists.

“Like many artists who may not have a lot materially, I do havegreat art!” Fellow graduate students and later collaborators withwhom she has swapped pieces have been even more importantas a collegial sounding board for her. “It is so productive to workin an environment in which you can step out of your studio andexchange ideas, ask for an opinion and know you will get astraight – informed and, usually nurturing - answer.” Havingready access to such input is one half of her ideal work environment;the other half is solitude.

When she is deeply focused on building a piece, she finds itjarring to be interrupted. “It is difficult to immediately regainthat intensity. Having a positive environment is so essential tothe creative process, and I have been fortunate to find that at theCity Clay Center.” The intensity of Rouillier’s work is aneasily-understood explanation for why it often is described aspassionate. But another reason is that the pieces conveypoignant messages – in any of several ways.

“There are so many issues and situations that can be addressedthrough art, and I hope, and intend my art to raise questions,”Rouillier said. Her series Silent Conversation is a great example.Curiosity is piqued, but subtlety - the sculptor permeates the claywith a recognizable emotion, in this case, the familiar banterbetween a co-joined maternal figure and the mother’s clayspawn. Just a tilt of a featureless head conveys they are attuned.

And since they aren’t two separate figures - the smaller oneseems to emanate from the larger one - Rouillier has addressedanother situation. “Cloning and genetic altering is so much inour news, filtering into our societal DNA, and technology hasalso caused much more social isolation and inequity of availableresources. Advances in science and technology, althoughbeneficial, pose questions, trigger consequences. There seems tobe too little accountability for our actions.” She hopes her artgives the viewer pause.

No artistic cloner is she. She enjoys studying the works ofother ceramists, but she cannot even be accused of imitating herown work; each piece can stand alone. “Duplicating a piece is

Renee Rouilliertells of stories made not born

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very difficult; you cannot re-capture the particular feeling,emotion that went into the original.” Even in her series, therealways are differences – if only in the coloration from the glaze,which she prefers to create herself.

She does, however, mimic nature, although you would neverfind a creature like hers in the wild, or in a zoo. “I like watchingnature channels on TV,” she said. Observing how an animalstands, crouches or pounces feeds her imagination and maymanifest itself in a future sculpture. Covering the natural facesof these contrived creatures with masks allows viewers toidentify with them more universally.

“I like the use of masks because there is a great storytellingconnection there – coming out of myths and legends. Forcenturies, masks have had the ability to transform the wearerinto a different persona, one having myriad powers and

spiritual connections.” Roullier, whose first academic degreeprepared her to teach interdisciplinary art to children, delvesinto, and is informed by, the lore of past tribal cultures. “I amfascinated by ways in which identity and power transfersbetween human and animals in some of our backstories, andthere is a connection with all life forms.”

One of her admonishments, via her work, is for us to look outfor each other in this life. “In this world we all depend on eachother,” she said. If one of us doesn’t protect or nurture the other,what might happen? She answered her own question, playfullybut shrewdly, by sculpting a parade of ants crawling up the sideof an anteater.

Her intuition tells her when a body of work is complete. “I liketo take a little time off before beginning a new series,” she said.“That’s when I get back into my sketch book and see what speaksto me, conceptually. Right now, I feel my work is about toexperience a growth spurt.”

“Art can address many situations. I hope, and intend my art to raise questions about many issues.”

“When I Grow Up I Want to be a Bluebird”. Earthenware, oxides, underglazes, glazes. 22x6x4”. 2008

“Summer Carnival II”. Earthenware, slips, glazes, wire. 20x12.5x7.5”. 2008

right: “Deadly Playmates”. Earthenware, oxides, underglazes, raised glass. 17x8x9”. 2011

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27story: Mary Bentz Gilkerson photography: James Quantz

Most of the pieces usually reside out of theelements in the protection of the barn at the backof the property. But their creator, HermanThompson, had pulled the sculptures out andcarefully arranged them that day so that we could

view them. The inventiveness of Thompson’s combination ofmaterials as well as the sheer number of pieces was impressive.

The most dominating is a permanent fixture, one that towersover the edge of the driveway. This sculpture is a roughlynine-foot tall tyrannosaurus rex constructed entirely from foundmetal pieces. From a distance the dinosaur reads as a cohesivebody; it’s only when you are within a few feet that the metalparts begin to read as individual components, giving a hint totheir original use.

Thompson’s primary material is found scrap metal that hewelds into complex sculptures ranging in subject from theprehistoric to the everyday. Drawing from pop culture as well ashis surrounding environment, he make works that are so popu-lar in his community – and not just with family and friends - thathe has a hard time, as he says, “keeping enough of them to havea big enough body of work to show.”

But describing Thompson as “self-taught” isn’t totallyaccurate. Trying to pin a label on artists working outside of themainstream contemporary art world is really a pretty meaning-less exercise. Folk art, traditional art, outsider art, naïve art, self-taught art are all terms that are used somewhat indiscriminatelyto describe work created by non-academically trained people.

While Thompson might not have any formal training in art,his family has a tradition of creativity. “I learned to weld from myfather. He loved to make things,” says the artist. “Everybody inmy family is creative.” So in that sense he is not unlike othertraditional artists who learn their craft from an olderpractitioner, usually a relative.

Thompson inherited a drive to make something out of whatother people would simply throw away. He points to severalplanters along the driveway and says that his father made thoseas well. Walking over to what appear to be white concrete urnsand vessels, I’m astonished when they turn out to be repurposedautomobile tires, completely transformed from their originaldoughnut shape. After heating them, his father had cut andshaped them, opening them out like flowers into decorativecontainers for the garden.

The younger Thompson is in many ways an environmentalartist, recycling cast off tin and other metals into work thattransforms the space that he installs it in. He seems very awareof how he uses that space, not really that surprising in someoneworking with large sculptures that require an understanding ofthe physical demands of balance, proportion and placement.

His desire to “get the subject right” can lead to a prolongedprocess, one that lasts months, sometimes even years since he’smore interested in finding the parts that fit the idea than in

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“I feel like I’ve succeeded when the bees tryto drink nectar from the flowers. They justbuzz around and get frustrated.”

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manufacturing an idea to fit theparts. One of the challenges ofsearching for just that right scrap isthat it not only has to have the rightform and shape, but also has tobalance structurally with the rest ofthe piece. This in and of itself is nomean feat since many of his piecesare large, well over eight feet inheight and/or length.

Thompson’s persistence in thequest can and has led to a sculpturestanding shrouded in plastic formonths at a time until one of hisforays to the junkyard yields pay dirt.When he finds that elusive perfectscrap, Thompson brings it back to thelarge area at the back of his family’sproperty where he has a carefullyordered workspace.

The space, really an out-doorstudio, occupies a large area filledwith the materials of his craft.Radiating out from the center, like apainter’s palette with the colors laidout around the edges, are assortedcollections of metal that he has grouped and ordered accordingto size and shape so that he can find what he needs quickly.

His welding area in the center, the earth bare to prevent flyingsparks from igniting. He works with a surprisingly small torchconsidering the size of his final sculptures. Thompson learnedfrom his father to work with the metal as a craftsman, by smelland sound as well as sight. The hiss of the bubbling metal speaksto him, telling him just when it’s hot enough for the join to stick.

Sometimes his subjects are ones that he becomes familiarwith through hours of research at the library. The public libraryin downtown Columbia is Thompson’s research center where hereads voraciously about a broad range of topics fromImpressionist art to texts describing the anatomy of thedinosaurs that fascinate him. Other times his subjects are drawn

from the surrounding natural world, like the deer that stays ondisplay in the front yard.

Thompson started out creating single figures but says he isreally drawn to making groups, like the school of fish stretchedout in a line in front of us in the yard. Several of thearrangements form self-contained tableaux, groupings of objectsand creatures in an accompanying environment. A group of redmetal cannas peek up about the shrubs in the edge of the frontyard. From twenty feet away the “flowers” do a pretty good job offooling the human eye, but up close they confuse thebumblebees as well. “I feel like I’ve succeeded when the bees tryto drink nectar from the flowers. They just buzz around and getfrustrated,” he says with evident satisfaction.

At times Thompson embellishes his work with a paintedsurface created with simples spray enamel. How heapproaches that finish depends entirely on the piece.The red cannas with their sinuous foliage are fairlyflatly painted. The fish, on the other hand, have morecomplex patterned surfaces created by spraying paintthrough a variety of materials, one layer on top ofanother to create a dense texture.

The surfaces of some sculptures retain the originalfinish of their component parts. Others are left topatina naturally in the outdoors, especially if they aretoo large and heavy to be taken apart and moved.Thompson visibly winces at the thought of how diffi-cult it was to take apart and move the TyrannosaurusRex. He says that’s one sculpture that is going to stayright where it is.

Some of the artist’s objects are put to more prosaicuses. A small garden plot sits to the side of the

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A work of artis the unique result

of a unique temperament.

— Oscar Wilde

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story: Kristen Gehrman

O’Neal Comptonis larger than life

artist

When O’Neal Compton was 26, he moved to New York City. Awayward Southern Baptist and medical school escapee from Sumter,South Carolina, he followed the bohemian call of Broadwaydreamers, sure of his destiny as an actor. When he arrived, he was sobroke that he rented his apartment in hourly shifts and split a 1971pea green Volkswagen beetle with three friends, each paying$350. The sputtering old car racked up so many parking tickets thatwhen it finally got booted, Compton just left it parked in the streetand walked away

You could say that is how Compton has jaunted through life,moving from one adventure to another, racking up big laughs andminor offenses, and never really cashing in before going whole hogwith the next challenge. In fact, it’s hard to say whether hiscyber-pseudonym “The Whole American Hog” refers to his roaringenthusiasm for whatever is in front of him or his wide-spanningstatus as an actor, filmmaker, musician, photographer, andpolitical strategist.

I arrive at his house north of downtown Charleston just after athunderstorm. There is a soggy, peaceful stillness spreading from hisgrassy garden to the abandoned bridge down the street, across theopen marsh. The Lowcountry serenity is a far cry from 1970s NewYork City tenement housing and the littered streets of L.A. where hebuilt his acting career. Recovering from hip surgery, he answers thedoor in a wheelchair, nothing containing his robust smile andhospitality. Looking over the rims of round tortoise shell glasses, heasks “How ‘bout a margarita and sushi?”

The walls are stacked with his own photography, framed inrecovered wood using techniques he learned from his cabinet-makerfather. Yellowed images of ancestors overlook the kitchen, a bookcasenext to the door stands over-laden with antique political buttons,harmonicas, trinkets brought back from the Alps, a Darwin fish cardecal, and a bone and metal contraption that will soon be his new hip.The collection serves as a reliquary of the winding roads and sharpturns Compton has taken in his life and career.

Born in 1951 to a 13th generation Southern American family, hestarted working in his grandfather’s funeral business as a young teen.At a young age, he was exposed to nearly every tragedy in histight-knit community. “I saw my three friends’ dead bodies rightafter a car crash when I was a kid,” Compton remembers. “I was sodeeply effected by these early experiences that I turned to the arts asan outlet.”

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Although his academic parents already had him on track formedical school, Compton started playing the drums at hisuncle’s dance hall on the weekends. But it wasn’t until he

started studying biology at Wofford College in 1976 that hediscovered theater.

“My parents were so disappointed that I wanted to be an actorback then,” Compton says. “But once art grabs you by the throatand you realize that you are good at something, all you can do isgo with it. I needed the stage so badly, it was the first thing thatreally made my heart soar.”

Fast forward thirty years and Compton’s career includes rolesin over 12 Hollywood films, acting along side the likes of JodieFoster, Eddie Murphy, Morgan Freeman, and Sharon Stone. He’swalked on over 20 TV series, notably Seinfeld, Party of Five, andThe Wonder Years. He’s learned to morph into the kind of loud,honky characters that directors snatch up to play the umpire, theTexan, and the witty police officer.

Back home in South Carolina, he commandeered Lucky Boys,a highly successful film production company specializing in TVcommercials. Big businesses across the Southeast sought after

his hilarious stock characters such as the hillbilly car salesman,the backwoods doctor, and the Southern front-porch gentleman.In a decade and a half, he became a stockpile of made-for-TVpersonas, the kind of quasi-star that always gets cast, sometimesgets recognized, but never quite fulfills his dream of producing afeature film.

As the biz would have it, Compton racked up and burned outby the end of the 90s. Even though he had relished in hison-screen success, the fact that none of his screenplays wereever produced left him discouraged. So, he traded Hollywood fora Harley Davidson and a Pentax 67 camera, and left behind hisCalifornia ranch. This time he headed for the Alps, seekingspace, solitude, and unsuspecting subjects.

“I went from being on one side of the camera to the other,”Compton says. “I had a long lens and a passion for capturingpeople in their natural environment from far away, it was allabout finding that true sense of humanity.”

Rolling from Alpine villages to major cities across Italy,Switzerland, Germany, and Austria, he drew on his productionskills to teach himself the art of candid portraiture. Fromclandestine corners, he produced introspective shots of elderlywomen at the bus stop, field hands sweating in the sun, young

lovers kissing under a bridge, a monk walking to town—allimages possessing a reverence for the subject’s quiet quotidian.

“One time, I was shooting a group of young people on a bridgeoverlooking the Thames River in London. They were clearly highon heroin and it was as if, in their wild state, they were cryingout for the lens,” Compton recalls. “I’ve learned a lot about theneeds of humanity from taking photographs. These kids hadcreated their own little support group, and maybe the next dayall they would care about would be their next fix, but in thismoment, they were everything to each other.”

Grown out of his need to be in the bright lights, Comptonpoured himself into preserving fleeting moments starring theanonymous. Within a few years, his private passion garnered theattention of international galleries, gracing the walls of theMichael Hoppen Gallery in London, Castle Haggenberg inVienna, and a number of others in Los Angeles, New York,Chicago, New Orleans, and Charleston. Today, his work hangs inthe homes of old friends, Morgan Freeman and EmmaThompson. The likes of Billy Bob Thornton and Elizabeth Taylorhave purchased his pieces from galleries abroad.

“Artists promote truth to me in this world, and as an artist Ihope to participate in molding a healthy, liberal worldview. Iseek just the right juxtaposition of beauty, honesty, and despair,”explains Compton.

When not shooting in the field, he experiments with fine artphotography, working primarily with female nudes. However,his approach is very similar to his hands-off, candid techniques.Rather than professional models, he shoots female friends,women who are ready to reveal themselves from the inside out.The title of his nude series “Interiors,” although staged inside ofstunning architecture, actually refers to the interior souls of hissubjects.

“I’ve found that most women are very introspective,especially when they feel comfortable enough to take theirclothes off for the camera,” says Compton. “Usually, I will leavethe room and let them situate themselves a bit. Then I will comeback and shoot them from a distance, maybe even from anadjoining room. It’s amazing how quickly they turn theirthoughts inward, and how their body responds.”

For all of the directions Compton has taken with his career, allof the dreams he has chased, ambitions he has fulfilled, cars he’sleft booted in the street, it seems that photography has been his

(left)O’Neal with Morgan Freeman in “Deep Impact”. (center) As Earl Haffler in an episode of Seinfeld. (right) With Anthony Hopkinsand James Woods in “Nixon”.

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highest calling. In a sense, his photographsare a culmination of his life’s work, revealingnot a list of film credits, but rathereverything he has learned about life. Twentyyears ago, when he had just started exploringphotography, he wrote in his journal, “Whydoes my heart jump with anticipation eachtime I take my camera out of the case? Ithink it’s because I’m overwhelmed by thisglorious technology which allows me tocapture a microsecond of eternity witha stack of ground glass and a rectangleof emulsion.”

Today, Compton continues to take photosin Charleston and also maintains The WholeAmerican Hog, his popular, left wingpolitical blog. He has donated his time andpersonality to political campaigns,supporting liberal candidates with a strongsense of humanity—the kind of people whomight look at his photo of a heroin addict ora homeless man and feel compassion.

Refusing to live by one title or be boxed inby one identity, Compton chooses to followhis momentary bliss. With great respect forhis life’s experiences and the people whohave helped him along the way, he sees hisspider web of passions as a source ofever-evolving artistic possibilities.

With Sharon Stone on the set of "Diabolique”

(left) O’Neal Compton. “untitled”.

(below) Behind the scenes on the set of“Seinfeld”

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“Street Sky”. Oil on masonite. 10x14”. 1995-1998

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poetry

EXORCISM

The drunk see into the gloom, hear voices;the drunk blues man knows the mistof unsettled spirits, he shouts loudlyat the way his skin pimples as ifa soft cold wind has stirred in this ovenof a Pittsburg tenement; the deadare drawn to the promise of whiskey.

How casual he is after sweatywrestling with the beast; how calmlyhe walks away after—as if he hasdone this before, the dance of bodieshurled against walls—it is noteasy to kill a man with your hands they will fight for everything to live.

Any child who sees the bloatedbody of a familiar spirit, even once,will be marked for life—not a cursebut a queer anointing, as ifthe dead are always with us. She knows that you can wrestlethe dead, silence them with a bodyalert to its every muscle, she learns.

The “Ship of Zion” fills the room.So many ships have held the unsettleddreams of black folk. Now the “Shipof Zion” stirs some ancient gene that makes the glintingripple of open water a triggerfor tears, for memories older thanreason. “The Ship of Zion” rocksagainst the nudge of waves,and the fear of death by drowningreturns to the woman who singsin that robust voice while the spiritstares through the gloom.

The drunk man will collapseeventually, all fight gone.The fighter’s body will give way,the neck’s strain, the tautpress against all peace.This child will see and know.Sing, woman, sing, woman, sing!

For Edgar Alan Poe

(unpublished poem) −Kwame Dawes