apartment on Havers

After an all too surreal ride from the Beef Island airport (memories from my previous trip feeding the sensation of a dream), as well as a brief stop to reacquaint myself with everyone at Bamboushay, I entered that room to find 6 mattresses resting on opposite walls. The screens were off the windows, and one of the glass shutters was hanging loose, but I thought little of it in an ungrounded moment. Instead, I was drawn to a book that seemed intentionally set atop a disassembled rattan chair in the corner of the room. It was an old copy of John Milton's "Paradise Lost", which lay open to a page where the first verse was underlined. It read:

"Better to reign in hell than to serve in heaven"

Shaken by sudden intuition, I turned to leave the room, upon which I saw the snake sitting on one of the mattresses. I looked at it for a second and after realizing that this species was not immediately recognizable to me, I decided it was all just too strange for comfort, but a sheet pressed to the bottom of that now closed door would be reassuring enough to secure that lingering history in my head.

For the days that followed, I was becoming increasingly frustrated that I did not have any drawers or hangers to begin unfolding my clothes that remained crammed in my suitcase. I remembered a closet in the second room, and it was only a matter of time when the want of a hanger overrode my foreboding feelings towards the coincidental circumstances of that space (although this was delayed several nights longer as I woke up that morning to find a decent sized scorpion on the kitchen floor). Needless to say, I was eventually overcome by some feeling of necessity to retrieve those hangers, and found out as well that the very same snake I saw only 4 days earlier was stuck in that same position to a piece of tape hanging from one of the plastic packages for the mattresses... It's difficult to describe the range of emotions that ran through me at that moment, albeit some combination of guilt for not being more observant towards the snake to begin with and maybe a slight undertone of comic relief.

As a memorial to this now dead serpent, I've incorporated it into a sculptural piece about all things finding themselves stuck; which also includes some tangled rope washed up with seashells, and a broken watch. Also to note: John Milton's book is now replaced with Gulliver's Travels. 

I've done the best I can with the rest of the apartment, although not having a car definitely limits my capabilities for sprucing it up. Instead, small and improvised efforts will have to suffice for now. I still don't have any gas for my oven (and therefor have no way to act on everyone's recommendation that I boil my water)... and I really do need to buy some type of mosquito repellant... but again and for the moment, I'm just glad to have mopped floors and clean counters. Also, the freshly washed sheets I'll sleep on tonight will be well worth the climb up the mountain with a bag of linens in tow, especially if there are less bugs to shield myself from via these, and a few cool breezes to travel though my windows.

moving on...

The time has come again for that inevitable return of the need to know my own shape amongst the world at large. Perhaps it's with the passing of several family members and a friend that I had begun to feel the loss of my own mass this previous year... or at least a shift into a more ephemeral form, incapable of being shaped or shaping. Perhaps it's just an awareness of being another year older, and so moving all the more towards a greater sense of my own mortality. For this, I need a new change on the exterior and a new means for reflection to compensate. For this, I'm making my way back to that little island of Tortola, facing the potential of at least a yearlong stay, and working as a gallery/studio manager in Nanny Cay. Here and in addition to the purpose mentioned above, I'm curious to discover how my experiences will be informed by my previous visit to the island (especially now as this travel will be made alone), and what differences will unfold between living there vs. vacationing. I will do my best to post these observations here throughout the months to come, as well as include a few photos of any new artistic endeavors on my other blog.

As I mentioned, what drove me most to this point of international migration was an extended period marked by a lack of such outward transition, but still moving on internally nonetheless. The words that follow are intended to provide a brief glimpse into this time of trial:

Nearly a year has passed of what would best be described as some form stationary change; accounting for the births, deaths, and marriages that have occurred within the lives of both family and friends, all while I forego further travels and maintain residence in Florida. In this place, sitting and watching the events that occur around me and occasionally through me, I've also taken to a new commitment towards survival via commissioned paintings. With this venture comes the need to contort myself to those various genres in demand in this area... portraits, reproductions of the old masters, and classical figures mixed with modern elements to suit the needs for several galleries. Initially, I enjoyed this selfless application of skill and quiet monotony. To be sure, it in someways kept to the concept behind much of my personal work, where I also sought to allow myself to only function as a human printing press, or rather seeking to pay an unobstructed homage to my influences (and thereby debating the presence of an original concept). Also and on that same unassuming level, I couldn't complain about the liberties that came from spending an 8 hour work day simply painting from my studio apartment... With an environment just outside my doorstep to equal the quiet that I hoped to achieve within, I took to the gentle teeming of deer, owls, rabbits, racoons, hawks, and armadillos that would occasionally cross by my window, breaking from the surrounding trails and small creek beds of the Black Hammock Wilderness Area. Here are a few of the paintings made for a hand full of cliental, all while living in this place. Unless noted otherwise, each was completed in oil on canvas:

24" x 36"

24" x 36"

24" x 36"

Needless to say, I'm looking forward to a change of aesthetic, as determined by this new environment. With all art supplies having to be imported to the island, some innovation towards whatever materials are available will undoubtedly be a factor. On that note and while I'll continue to add any updates on living in Tortola here; the paintings, prints, or drawings to follow will still be posted to kelliemoore.blogspot.com.