I’ve been at the Art Farm for six days, and I think I’ve
seen every type of spider known to man. As of today, I have declared war on spiders,
and after a nasty bite on my ankle I have no regret smashing one beneath my
tennis shoe or even, since I’m a hardcore NE artist now, between my fingers if given the chance.
I’ve been walking the cornfields, on average 8 miles a day,
and working the land. I haven’t been wearing
any makeup, which is a sobering thing—amazing how ingrained that part of my
routine was—and I’ve been making decisions based on the experience I’ll have,
rather than the practical or easy thing to do (I don't have to squeeze twenty things into twenty minutes right now. I can do one thing, and that's okay.). There’s some life lesson here, I’m
sure.
But I want to talk about Grand Island. I went into town with an artist-friend
who was planning to pick up two bison skulls that play some role in a traditional Native American sun dance, which, she says, she’s done ten years running. She invited me, but I don’t want to commit myself for so many days of my residency. That said, I was tempted and I was glad to spend a day with her to pick her brain a little. Experience is everything, and mine has been so limited in general.
who was planning to pick up two bison skulls that play some role in a traditional Native American sun dance, which, she says, she’s done ten years running. She invited me, but I don’t want to commit myself for so many days of my residency. That said, I was tempted and I was glad to spend a day with her to pick her brain a little. Experience is everything, and mine has been so limited in general.
We went to a thrift store that was open. The man who greeted
us did so by saying they were closed. His wife yelled from the back, “Get them
out of there! We’re closed.”
“But they’re just looking around,” he said in our defense. When
I told the woman I was here from San Antonio, she softened and said that was a
hell of a long way.
We went to more thrift stores after, then antique stores, metal
recycling (see image), then plastic recycling (“1-7 only, not sure where you
can get rid of anything but 1-7”), then the hardware, then Hi-V (the local
grocery), and by the end of our travels I believe we may have seen all of
downtown Grand Island.
One of the most notable stops was at Quality Industrial Sewing, where a man
named Ron showed us a sewing machine that could penetrate eight layers of
leather. My friend bought it, and in turn Ron showed us his back room, where he
has restored three hot rods. He told us how the design for a bachelor’s car
differed from that of a family man’s, and how his air conditioning was reserved
for those cars, to keep them in good shape when we asked why it was nice and
cool in that room but not where we entered (the official store part).
Finally, after some light grocery shopping, we went to an
Antique Mall, where I bought a book that will find its way into my writing for
many years to come, I believe. Here’s a short excerpt from the Manners at the
Table section:
“Do not blow food to cool it. Do not pour hot drinks into
saucers to cool them. Hold a bone on both ends with the tips of the fingers on
both hands when it is necessary to pick it up. Do not let crumbs or liquids
cling to the lips. Do not lick the lips conspicuously. Do not ask for something
on another person’s plate…”
Or this one from The Attractive Figure:
“Our mode of living during this twentieth century has
established the ideal figure for a woman as one that is slender without being
scrawny; lithe, sure, and quick-moving. Women do things nowadays. They are
champions at sports, they follow careers, they drive cars, they keep homes and
personal interests thriving side by side. The fragile woman, or the woman with
too much avoirdupois, cannot keep pace with the present mode of living.”
—Capper, Arthur (Editor),
The Household Searchlight Homemaking
Guide, 1937
This book tells one everything from how to properly eat vegetables
to how to throw a successful “Hobo Get-together” party. My life is changed
forever. (Talk about endless material!)
Verdict: Downtown Grand Island, which is the big city
compared to Marquette, NE where I am staying, is charming. The people are kind
and, more, content. I was struck, in fact, with how content everyone seemed, right
down to the woman who didn’t want us shopping her thrift after-hours (but ended
up letting us buy things after all). There are some parts of the US in which
folks don’t always want to be elsewhere and where you can find antique gems and
recycle with gusto while maintaining a slow and steady pace.
I enjoyed my non-writing day, my company, and the town of
Grand Island so much, in fact, that I may have to have another non-writing day
at some point during this residency.
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