Blog

Usually, I write these blogs about my paintings. At least once before, though, I ranted about something completely unrelated. It’s been two years since that JOB SEEKING BLOG, and, with the exception of a mention of a museum, this Blog entry also has nothing whatsoever to do with art (it’s my website, after all). You’ve been warned.

The thirtieth anniversary of my 1989 move to Richmond, Virginia, is just a few weeks away. It’s been a ride. Good Times, Bad Times, You know I’ve had my share. I won’t dwell upon the bad, as I’ve had much more than my share of good. Crystal. Home. Friends. Health. A challenging and rewarding career. But as this anniversary approaches, I’m less interested in my own memory lane than I am in analysis of why Richmond remains my home. 

Given recent events, I understand why folks in other states might scratch their heads about Virginia. Stormtrooping Neo-Nazi monsters just up I-64 in Charlottesville. State government leaders bamboozled by blackface and rape charges. Three nasty old white male politicians wrangling an ERA bill supported by over 80% of the citizens into a subcommittee so they alone could kill it, just because they could.

Of course, there is nuance in all of this. The racists who shat their hate all over Charlottesville primarily invaded here from other states, lucky us. Admittedly, Governor Northam seems to operate with no more political savvy than a squirrel would, but his public service record is tremendously respectable. Based on the advanced scientific metric “that was then, this is now,” I contend that his distasteful and amateur mishandling of his yearbook scandal does not rise to the level of unrepentantly calling non-white people countries shitholes. As far as the ERA bill killers, political skullduggery is universal. Moreover, those creepy old white guys are up for re-election this fall, and forces are marshalling. 

All of which is to reassure my friends who live elsewhere that despite all the recent bad press, Virginia is NOT stuck in the role of poster child for the American South in the 1950s. It has vastly more than its share of good. Imperfect to be sure, but no more and no less than anywhere else.

Same with Richmond. Yes, the city has so many Confederate monuments that Robin Williams famously called it the greatest collection of second place trophies he’d ever seen. Richmond is one of the former centers of the slave trade. I don’t know why, but this history has not been afforded the archeological evaluation it merits. I work downtown, and it saddens me that the building I work in and the garage I park in are close to, if not directly built upon, land once used for the auctioning of human beings. The white southern war dudes get enormous statues on the grandest of streets. The slaves they fought to keep under their boots get a tiny little memorial on a tenth of an acre tucked next to a parking garage. We’ve got a ways to go.

Notwithstanding, I acknowledge that the Civil War is part of American history. I don’t consider my choice to continue living here to be even remotely a statement of empathy towards the legacy of slavery and Jim Crow. I prefer endeavoring to better understand and learn from this unfortunate past than to pretend it is benign or better off forgotten.

I like Richmond. It has white water rapids downtown. Good restaurants galore. As fine an Art Museum as you’ll find anywhere. Relatively benign traffic. Beaches a couple of hours this way, mountains a couple of hours that way, and major league baseball just up the road. It occupies a sweet spot of latitude allowing it four distinct seasons, but the winters are not brutal (and while the summers can be humid sizzlers, they don’t last so nearly as long as the ones further south). Spring and Fall are generally perfect. It’s large enough to be a city but small enough you can get out of it in 20 minutes no matter which way you drive. There are many neighborhoods with distinct vibes, and after 30 years there’re still some to explore. 

Virginia has the beaches and mountains alluded to above, and world class wineries, beautiful National Parks, farms, Inns, waterfalls, artisans, and places to sail and fish and hike and have breath taken away by the views. History? Only everything from pre-European settlement to Colonial to the space age.

I’ll see your Grand Canyons and Disney Worlds and raise you Colonial Williamsburg, the Blue Ridge, a glass of Shaps Meritage, and some steamed blue crabs from the Chesapeake Bay.

p.s. This year, the UVA men’s basketball team won the national championship, which I mention because, when they did, Charlottesville citizens partied in the streets joyfully – and peacefully – all through the night. Several of the revelers reported how cathartic this was; that it did so much to scrub away the psychic graffiti sprayed on the soul of the city by those asinine tiki-torch bearing chanting hate robots. Thank you, Cavaliers.