By Cherimie Crane Weatherford
Dampened by summer’s intermittent yet thunderous downpours, my shoes squeaked gleefully against the tiled floors as my umbrella found its place alongside several others, creating a small reflective pool by the door. Small talk filled the air as pleasantries and nervous chatter found a rhythm with the sliding of metal chairs and the familiar splash as the tires of passing cars got a midday bath.
Outside of my usual routine, my interest peaked with the evident care given to the table setting. Business meetings, conferences, and continuing education courses are commonly void of the human factor, lacking any creative stimulus other than how to feign deep interest. It is a nice change.
Curious, I signed up for an Introduction to Watercolors Workshop while shopping for art supplies with my creative, artist-eyed daughter. One of my many afflictions is the need to take classes. Before my days were filled with business, motherhood, vet visits, to-do lists, and the rest of the casserole of adulthood; I shared her artistic eyes. Observing her select the tools that would help her express what is in her soul onto the canvas sent me back to a simpler time, and I suddenly realized that, at some point, I stopped looking for colors, subtle hues, and the way the sun dances across its subject.
As the workshop began, my hands had a childlike awkwardness with the paintbrush; muscle memory in this regard must be short-term. I wondered if I was the novice in the beautifully diverse group; fortunately, artistic talent is in the eye of the beholder. The instructor captured every detail as one would expect from someone making a living in the power of details.
Almost like the first day of school, I felt like the teacher had been working all night to ensure each student had everything they needed. It was nice to be the student relaxing, not knowing it was an art form in itself. For years, my days have lacked the reprieve of beginners bliss. For now, my only responsibility was to listen, learn, and let the dust wipe away from the creative corner of my brain.
The usual suspects of insecurities were noticeably absent. For the first time in a very long time, I could hear my breathing as I became lost in the dance of colors against the canvas. Thought was unnecessary but welcomed, as the sounds of adulthood no longer resembled bustling traffic in a metropolis thick with sensory pollution. The clink of my paintbrush against the water jar, the gentle gliding against the canvas, was a soothing harmony. How such a blankness can become a form of communication is just one power of art.
How three hours went by in what seemed like three soft strokes of my brush remains a mystery. My newest position, added to my mosaic of a resume, spurred me to seek out the art community’s intricacies, nuances, and connectivity. How have I yet to take advantage of the abundance of artistic outlets in our beautiful town? How did I not know there were teachers enthusiastically offering their magical talents to make my day more beautiful? How, in a small city, did I not know these therapeutic pockets of pure joy existed?
As a new addition to the Freedman Arts District Organization, my eyes are open. From Carteret Street to Ribaut Road, there is an energy of change. It’s an undercurrent twisting history into hope, revitalization, and remembrance. From assisting long-time residents in rebuilding homes that have spent decades in dilapidated disservice to encouraging the passion for cultural preservation, all in unison with the power of the arts.
The Freedman Arts District is more than boundaries on a map. It’s a growing organization dedicated to creating vibrant public spaces integrated with natural amenities, resulting in improved quality of life for long-time residents, expanding arts education, and reminding us all that art is as essential and nourishing as our tides.
Cherimie Weatherford is a long-time real estate broker, small business owner, wife and mom in beautiful Beaufort and the Town of Port Royal. Now she is the Director of Operations and Programs for the Freedman Arts District.
