Local Color

The marsh expands as far as the eye can see, seamlessly merging into blue sky. In an instant, a fish jumps and splashes into the water.

“That was a mullet,” Peggy Everett says, her eyes never leaving her canvas.

The painter knows every sound and shape of the Crescent River, the waterway that provides the rear border to her McIntosh County sanctuary.

From the oaks and palms that dot the landscape to the pods of dolphins that often visit her dock, Everett absorbs it all. She is, after all, an artist, and keenly attuned ­­­to the world around her.

“You have to be able to see things … to really see them,” she says, dabbing her brush in the water. Everett refocuses on the painting she is creating.

“You also have to make sure not to dip your brush into your wine instead of your water. That happens a lot,” she nods with a grin and a wink.

Her hands move effortlessly, recreating the scene before her with a sense of casual ease that can only come from a lifetime of practice. Another job well done, she gathers her tools — canvas, easel, and paints — and retreats into her waterfront home.

“Come on, Ease,” Everett calls to the yellow lab waiting in her yard. He eagerly follows. “His name is Easy Breezy,” she clarifies.

She opens the door to be greeted by Johnny Cash’s “Folsom Prison Blues” pouring from the speakers. Waltzing through the wall of windows, one finds a picturesque artist’s abode.

Palettes, brushes, easels, and paints — this is her world. Of the multitude of works adorning her walls, the majority are creations by her friends and mentors, fellow artists from whom she’s learned much. Each canvas has a meaning and a story.

Everett truly has so many — tones and hues of a truly exceptional life. Throughout her home, tokens and trinkets from her experiences are on display — a cow’s skull and Native American decor from her time spent out West operating a ranch. Paintings crafted from excursions overseas also dot the space. Stepping into her office and library, Everett stops to point at a strikingly realistic portrait of a man.

“Do you know who did that one?” she queries. “Bob Schieffer. He’s one of my students.

He is a fabulous artist … he can paint anything. And, he is just the nicest man.”

It’s certainly not her first brush with celebrity. Everett has many a story about meeting the rich and famous through her various painting exploits. One notable encounter was painting alongside Tony Bennett in Florence, Italy.

“I was there in 2006 painting with a girlfriend. She knew (Bennett) and we ended up painting together. He wanted to paint next to me because he said I was a serious painter,” she says with a laugh.

Though she is a “serious artist,” Everett doesn’t let her talent or her brushes with stars go to her head. Instead, she’s remained incredibly humble, even with the countless achievements and accolades she has collected.

Everett has long been hailed as one of the most well-respected and prolific area artists. Her work — from portraits to landscapes to abstracts — has graced private collections, businesses, and hotels throughout the Isles and beyond. But while she’s incredibly successful, Everett also makes sure to live her convictions through her work, donating a portion of proceeds from sales to causes close to her heart.

“A percentage of all my sales and workshops go to organizations in Georgia that protect wildlife and our natural resources,” she says. “… also agencies dealing with domestic abuse and violence.”

But never one to rest on her laurels, Everett has used the quiet of the recent quarantine to embrace different themes. While she has continued to take on a number of commissions, she’s also found time to continue learning.

“I am still learning on Zoom from Scott Christensen. Ken Wallin, Janet Powers, and Mary O. Smith are local artists who inspire me,” she says. “I have artist friends, like Margaret Durant, who give me honest critiques. Actually, any artist will give you a critique — you might not want to hear it, however.”

Everett has always embraced learning. It began with private lessons in Atlanta when she was a child.

“It started when I was in elementary school and everyone was drawing on the blackboard with white chalk, but I used colored chalk … my teachers made a big deal about what I was doing. They told my mother that I needed to take art lessons, so I started with these Russian portrait painters, Roman and Constantin Chatov,” she recalls. “I remember that later I went to New York and got an Andy Warhol abstract painting and brought it back. Constantin, the husband, bopped me over the head with it. They were pretty serious about art.”

She went on to the New York Studio School studying under Esteban Vencete, Joseph Santore, and Graham Nickson. Everett also studied representational art at the Art Students League of New York, Art Students League of Denver, and The Florence Academy of Fine Art in Florence, Italy. She also logged in time at the Hermitage Group in Colorado.

While she’s studied with the best of the best, today, Everett is a master in her own right. And one of her greatest joys is teaching, sharing what she’s collected through a lifetime of lessons. In pre-corona times, Everett held frequent retreats to teach plein air painting both near and far — as close as Cumberland Island and as distant as Aspen, Colorado.

“I don’t know that I’m a ‘great artist,’ but I do feel like I’m a good teacher. It’s my firm belief that anyone can paint. I’ve never had a student who couldn’t paint,” she says.

“But, you can’t just do it once a week in a class and be a great painter. You might be able to do it three times a week and be Okay … to be great at it, it’s something that you have to do every day.”

Everett herself has certainly found solace in her craft during the troubled times of the coronavirus pandemic. And she feels that it’s something that can offer a sense of comfort to most during difficult periods.

“The role of the arts — whether one- or two-dimensional, photography, poetry, books, film, or music — is to provide a relief and a pause in the noise of the day. It causes one to exercise their imagination, explore their senses, and for a time … escape. It is also a way to be happily alone with yourself,” she says.

“Now, I think, we want the arts to enrich our lives and our living spaces. You might want to learn to make art or you are already making it. Whether it is painting, writing, photography, or gardening, you are creating and using your imagination. If you can imagine it … it can happen — maybe all this craziness has been given to us as a time to dream, inspire, and create.”

Source:  Golden Isles:  The Magazine for Brunswick, St Simons Island.  Words by Lindsey Adkison.  Photos by Bobby Haven.

Debbie Craig spread the black and white photos across the table. The clothes and furnishings pointed to another time — the 1970s — but the girl in the image, she was easily recognizable.

“That’s when we were in Asheboro, North Carolina, where I set up my first pottery studio, ‘Paradise and Lunch’ in a 150-year-old farmhouse,” Craig says nostalgically, shifting through the photographs.

The younger Debbie Craig in the pictures was different, certainly, but there were many things about her that haven’t changed. She is still married to her husband and fellow artist, Terry. She’s also still passionate about cultivating creativity through her chosen medium — pottery. Her path to becoming a master artisan began in the Classic City — Athens.

That’s where Craig first stepped into a pottery studio, and unbeknownst to her at the time, set the course for her future.

“I started taking a pottery class one night a week at a local studio while I was at UGA,” she says.

Being able to mold and shape something meaningful from a formless bit of clay resonated with Craig in a way that no other artistic pursuit had before or since.

“I was hooked. I had done a lot of creative stuff before that, like tie-dye and making candles — I’m a hippie, but clay was the one thing that I really stuck with,” she says, sitting in the pottery studio of Glynn Visual Arts on St. Simons.

“I’m a Navy veteran so I had the G.I. Bill. When I learned you could go to college to work in clay I was like, ‘you’re kidding me!”

Craig studied under Ron Myers at UGA and he imparted many important lessons to the budding artist. Much like the clay itself, Myers shaped Craig’s artistic methods and teaching skills.

“He’s my ‘mud daddy.’ He’s in his 80s now, but I still visit him,” she says with a smile.

Craig has continued to share many of the lessons Myers taught her. She first began teaching classes locally at Glynn Visual Arts, and more recently at the College of Coastal Georgia in Brunswick.

“It’s crazy now after all of those years in the late 70s, I’m teaching the adult class once a week here. It’s sort of cool that it’s come full circle,” she said.

Of course, both her technique as a potter and abilities as a teacher took time to develop. When she was first starting out, Craig found herself a bit impatient with that aspect of the process, noting that her early work led to a few tears. “I remember that I used to cry because I wanted my pots to look like I’d been making pots for 30 years, but you know, I was a beginner,” she says, shaking her head.

“Now here, 30-something years later, it’s nice to hang in there to see that growth and change.”

In fact, Craig — who is known affectionately as “Mud Mama” to her students — can count generations of students that she’s led and inspired.

“I’ve been teaching here at Glynn Visual Arts for almost 30 years. It’s gotten to the point where the little kids I used to teach when they were in fifth grade are coming to my classes as adults. So, that’s crazy. That’s happened a few times in the last couple of years,” she says.

Her students and the staff of GVA decided to show Craig just how much she means to their community. In recent months, the facility named the kiln house, where students fire their pottery, after her — Craig’s House of Fire.

“They made me cry the other day. They made this,” she says, stepping out to the kiln house. Craig stopped outside and ran her hand over a clay plaque affixed to the exterior.

The neatly designed piece featured the name, Craig’s House of Fire, along with a copy of her signature.

“That’s the way I sign my work,” she says.

It also included a personal touch from her students.

“They put their fingerprints here,” she says, pointing to the imprints along the roofline in the design.

While she has created unbreakable bonds with her students, she’s also shared her artistic passions within her own home. Craig and her husband are both working artists. Her children, too, have always gravitated toward artistic endeavors. In fact, the group has formed their own collaborative — Craig’s House of Art — with one of her sons and daughter-in-law, Liana.

“My husband has a master’s in sculpture, but he’s done photo collage for the last few years. My oldest son graduated from Berry College with a degree in art … in painting,” she says.

“My younger son is out in San Fransisco and he loves to cook. He also approaches things creatively. It’s an ability to define a problem and solve it. It’s also being able to try new things, while being unafraid to fail. It’s just doing something with a willingness to try.”

The willingness to experiment is all she asks of other artists — be they in her family or in her classroom. That element, she feels, is essential to anyone who wants to express themselves creatively.

“The main thing, for me, is being able to define creativity in a different way. So if my students get that, then the rest is just play,” she says.

“I know that, for my family, every time we get together there’s a need to play. If you have an attitude of play when you’re being creative, I think you’re going to be way more successful than if you’re really serious and stressed out.”

Even more, working with clay allows Craig and her students the ability to remain in the moment. And, in that sense, it becomes much more than a simple art class, it becomes a way of escaping the worries of the world to appreciate the present.

“Working with clay is very therapeutic. It forces you to be in the here and now. I think that’s why a lot of people like it. I’ve had people tell me it’s cheaper than going to a shrink,” she says with a giggle.

There is also the human connection between those creating the work and those receiving it. Craig is a big believer in the power of positive energy and how it can steep from the creators into the creations. It offers a bit of magic that keeps her students coming back again and again.

“It’s a shared energy and safe place to be creative. We encourage each other and we create things together. I truly believe that you put your energy into your work. It is so much more special using a mug or a dish that was made by human hands,” she says.

“Together, we have this little clay community. Young moms and retired people … when we come together we’re here in the moment and letting this God-given creative energy just happen.”

Source:  Golden Isles:  The Magazine for Brunswick, St Simons Island.  Words by Lindsey Adkison.  Photos by Bobby Haven.

Sun glitter flitted across the bobbing waves as salty sea air blew across the beach. It was that special time, the time when the world slowly awakens and the Isles embodies the fullness of its title — golden.

It’s a sense of magic that Geoffrey Gable knows well. An avid surfer, he often finds himself gently rocking on the ocean as the sun begins to peak.

“There’s really nothing like watching the sunrise from the water. Surfers are able to get out there and feel the energy of the ocean as the sun comes up,” he says with a smile. “You can’t help but to be blown away.”

It’s this sense of connecting with nature that brings Gable back to the shore again and again. It’s also a passion that fueled much more than a weekend pastime — it has become an outlet for Gable’s creativity, as well as a new professional venture.

A chef by trade, the New Jersey native started exploring the world of hand-crafting surfboards a few years back. “I grew up outside of Philadelphia and I went to culinary school, so I’ve been a chef for 20 years,” he says. “I surfed the whole time, but I got into making the boards about five years ago. I made myself one, then I made my daughter, Addison, one.” From there, Gable’s friends started asking for custom boards of their own. The operation started small, using his garage as a workshop. But, before long, the amount of work he had acquired outgrew the space. “I started doing repair jobs for companies like Turtle Tides, too,” he says. Eventually, he secured his own space in a building downtown, right off Bay and F streets in Brunswick.

The business, called SML Surf Co., is where Gable can often be found, listening to tunes and shaping his latest creations.

“I moved into this spot about a year ago and since then it’s been non-stop,” he says.

The process has changed, though, now that Gable’s popularity has grown. In the early days, he would work on one board at a time, following each project through from start to finish. “It would take me about 40 hours to do one … now I can shape a board in 45 minutes,” he says. Gable works on pieces simultaneously, allowing him to create more boards for his eager customers. “Right now, I have three or four customs. I have a couple of paddleboards to do, too,” he says.

While the design may seem similar, there is quite a bit of difference between the two. Gable notes the surfboards are made from poly-resin, while the paddleboards are crafted from epoxy. “It’s the same thing — fiberglass — but the weight is different. The paddleboards are more durable … you can put more layers on a paddleboard,” he says.

Once he has the base for a board, Gable uses a planing tool — his is vintage from 1952 — to file and shape the piece. The process continues from there, including creating the proper rails for water flow. Each board is designed for functionality and how the individual rider plans to use it.

“It’s all fluid dynamics. It’s kind of wild going from just fiberglass to something that is really functional,” he says, running his hand along an unfinished board.

Functionality and surfing success depend on a number of factors. That’s why Gable likes to get his clients involved in the customization. As a major player in the area’s surf scene, he is familiar with many of the locals’ styles and what they need in a board. But Gable also likes to hear about their goals and what their ideal experience would entail.

“I have watched a lot of them surf, so I know what their style is and what they need. But we always sit down and talk about what they’re looking for and what they want,” he says.

“Sometimes they want one thing … and I have to tell them, ‘look, I don’t think that’s going to work for you. Let’s try this.’ It’s great to be able to go out with these guys and really understand what they need.”

Gable’s intimate knowledge of surfing and his craftsmanship allows him to create the ideal board for those looking to hang ten. And once the functional elements are in place, there’s a lot of room to add in some personality. He uses multiple techniques to bring life to his work. From inlaid fabrics to a kaleidoscope of colors, it all goes a long way toward making a board truly one of a kind. “I think it’s a lot like cooking for me. It’s the same kind of creativity you use when making a meal. In fact, the way I lay my knives out in the kitchen is the same way I lay my tools out here,” he says, standing in his workroom. “The most important thing is for the boards to fit their personality. For me, a lot of my boards end up orange … that’s my color, I guess.”

Like his signature color, Gable’s boards are becoming a mainstay on Isles’ beaches, where surfing has enjoyed a boost in popularity.

“It’s amazing here because it’s still a small group, but everyone is really laid back. In New Jersey, everyone was super-aggressive and you had to fight for waves — it’s not like that here. Everyone is so cool,” he says. “It’s definitely growing. There used to be a time when you’d see paddleboards everywhere … now there as many surfboards as paddleboards, if not more, which is great.”

Source:  Golden Isles:  The Magazine for Brunswick, St Simons Island.  Words by Lindsey Adkison.  Photos by Bobby Haven & Sam Ghioto..

Fiddler crabs rapped in the McIntosh marsh, creating a cadence that floated on the breeze. On the nearby wooden porch, Yvonne Grovner’s fingers flitted between the rolled sweetgrass and pieces of palmetto. With a small knife, she effortlessly shaved a strip of the saw tooth palmetto from the stalk.

Shifting her hands, she grabbed another tool, a shiny metal device, most commonly used to open cans of paint.

“I filed this to a point on the end, so it’s sharp but you could use a nail too, and all you’re going to do is use this to make a little opening here,” she says, piercing a row of sweetgrass and threading the thin piece of palmetto through.

It quickly fell in line, dutifully stitching the border of her basket together.

“Now, you’re working by feel,” Grovner says without skipping a beat. “So, as you’re working, you have to add grass. To add your grass, just pull you some grass. Split this in half, and add the grass right in the middle.”

Her 10-year-old granddaughter, India, watched from the adjacent rocking chair. Then, she joined in, weaving her own basket under the watchful eyes of the family matriarch.

“I’ve been doing it for about two years,” India says with a smile.

Yvonne beams with pride.

“I taught my husband, Iregene, my children, Monique and J.R. and my grandchildren,” she says. “It’s important to keep the tradition alive.”

And it’s one that is storied and vibrant. The history of weaving sweetgrass baskets dates back hundreds of years on the Georgia coast and in the Lowcountry of South Carolina. It was a key piece of the Gullah Geechee heritage, a lineage that blends African tradition with newer elements later developed in America — a patchwork of language, arts, food, and folklore. The sweetgrass baskets are a piece of the fabric of this rich culture. It has always been a part of life for those who inhabit Grovner’s home — Sapelo Island.

But the roots of the craft run even deeper. Baskets are, of course, ancient creations, dating back to the dawn of civilization. Before the barbarous practice of slavery stole countless men, women, and children from their African homeland, these baskets were commonly found in thriving villages along the continent’s West Coast.

African tribespeople crafted them with quality and care, creating strong and flexible vessels used to store precious goods — their grains, their harvest, and even their babies.

When these Africans were so cruelly deposited on shores of America, they kept this tradition alive as they worked the plantations, utilizing this sweetgrass weaving technique in a number of ways.

“They made rice fans to separate the grain from the husk,” she says, demonstrating with a replica.

Many of the slaves on the plantations of McIntosh County would go on to leave bondage behind, settling into freedom on Sapelo Island, located roughly 15 minutes by boat from Darien. Grovner moved to the island from her home on the McIntosh mainland 40 years ago and is one of dozens of full-time residents there today.

She was taught the art of basket weaving by Sapelo master, Allen Green.

“He was a famous basket weaver. He wouldn’t teach anyone for the longest time. We tried to get him to … but he wouldn’t. He said, ‘I’ll take this to my grave,’” Grovner recalls with a laugh.

“But, when he was 90, he got a grant and he taught seven of us on the island. Later, I got a grant from the Reynolds Foundation to teach the kids on the island, and I teach other classes as well … just trying to keep it alive. There aren’t that many people who make the baskets now, not on Sapelo at least. There are a lot in South Carolina.”

Grovner has taken it upon herself to share — teaching her family and those interested in learning within her community of Hog Hammock on Sapelo.

“Of course, there aren’t many people there — only 20-something people, but it’s important to keep it going,” she says.

The materials for the baskets are collected right there, on her beloved island, harvested in the shade of pine trees. Since becoming a master basket weaver, Grovner has made and sold hundreds. The one of a kind artworks can fetch anywhere from $50 to $800. Of course, there are some that are priceless.

“This is one I made that we put India in when she was a baby,” she says, smiling and holding the large basket in her hands. “It was also part of President Obama’s inauguration parade. They wanted something from the Gullah Geechee culture there so we sent this for the Gullah Geechee float.”

Grovner’s life is a testament to her heritage. Not only does she craft the baskets, she also conducts Sapelo tours for the Department of Natural Resources. Her son, J.R., also shares the history and culture through private tours.

“People come from all over. We had a big group from Germany once that came through with an interpreter,” she says.

When Grovner isn’t giving tours or weaving baskets, she can usually be found working on her other great art form — cooking. She’s a master of Southern and Coastal cuisine, even co-authoring a cookbook titled, “Foods of the Barrier Islands.” Many of the entries she can whip up from the produce found in her own garden.

“We grow the Sapelo red peas … everyone loves those. She likes to cook too,” she says with a nod at India.

Like the peas, palmettos, and sweetgrass, there’s a bit of the soil of Sapelo in Grovner’s soul. The tranquility of the island offers solace from the outside world, an ideal space for her art to flourish.

“We don’t worry about a lot of things. It’s peaceful and quiet … there aren’t many places left like Sapelo,” she says gazing at the golden marsh.

Source:  Golden Isles:  The Magazine for Brunswick, St Simons Island.  Words by Lindsey Adkison.  Photos by Bobby Haven.

It is almost impossible to believe — but Roderrick Davis has never had a formal art lesson. Yet, the Brunswick resident is a master painter in every sense of the word, creating work is so vidid and lifelike it pops off the canvas.

But over the past few years he’s honed his craft, using brushes and oil to share the stories of his African-American heritage. Davis has made a big splash in the local art world, so when the Brunswick Mural Project got off the ground, it was only a matter of time before he was invited to participate.

“I have never done a mural before and I felt like it was a big step for me as an artist. So when they approached me, I jumped on it,” he says.

He consulted mentors and re-worked designs. But finally, “Dreams Have Wings,” a girl and butterfly, was born — blanketing the facade of 1199 Egmont St., near the library. While the design process took six months, the actual painting took an impressive two days.

“I wanted the kids outside of the library to be able to see it and know that whatever they dream can come true,” he says. “I really love Brunswick and I was so glad to do it.”

Like Davis, Catherine Durrett was also thrilled to be asked to contribute to the effort.

“I did a lot of murals in the past, in fact, I had an indoor mural business in the Atlanta area. So when I heard about the mural project here, I wanted to get involved.”

She was tasked with jazzing up the side of the Subway building, located along Newcastle Street. Like her fellow artists, she was looking to create something that inspired hope.

“I came up with this idea of children flying with wings … just something really happy and bright,” she says.

After prepping the wall, she started to bring her vision to life. It took some time, and some re-starts due to inclement weather, since she started last September. But the result was well-worth the effort.

“I am so glad to be a part of this project. I’m really happy to see this happening downtown. I love painting murals and this really just spruces the whole area up — a coat of paint goes so far,” she says.

“I wanted to celebrate the diversity of Brunswick and help make people happy, especially after going through all of this with the coronavirus.”

The project has truly been a labor of love and the collective work of a team of individuals passionate about the community. Officials from the city and the Historic Preservation Board, as well as Coastal Georgia Community Action Authority were involved, as is a curatorial committee headed by Elizabeth Piazza and Sara Giannakiakis. Local property owners were key, too, as they commissioned work for their buildings.

“When artists and the community come together to create art that reflects a community’s history, aspirations, dreams, and local culture, the community responds with recognition and pride. It is a beautiful thing,” Susan Riles, former executive director of Glynn Visual Arts, says.

While half a dozen of murals have been completed or are in the works, there is more to come. Ryles is excited about what the future holds.

Source:  Golden Isles:  The Magazine for Brunswick, St Simons Island.  Words by Lindsey Adkison.  Photos by Bobby Haven.