The First Slip

Back in 1994, a storm rolled in off the Gulf, and with it, a wind that tore the roof off my studio and scattered my brushes like confetti. My favorite sable — the one I'd used to paint the sunset over Pensacola Bay — was gone, swept away into the saltwater like a lost treasure.

But I had a commission due in two days: a portrait of the old lighthouse keeper, Mr. Haggerty, who'd been the soul of Crestview for forty years. The man wanted it done by Tuesday, and I had no brushes. No brushes, no paint, and a deadline that was tighter than my old suspenders.

So what did I do? I grabbed a hairbrush from the kitchen drawer — a cheap thing, bristles worn down from years of grooming my dog, Buster. I dipped it in turpentine, gave it a good scrub, and set to work.

"The hairbrush didn't hold the paint right. It splayed the colors like a drunk painter at a wedding. But you know what? That's how the lighthouse came alive. The brushstrokes were rough, but the light? Oh, the light was perfect."

Mr. Haggerty loved it. He said it looked like the lighthouse was laughin' at the storm. And I learned that day: sometimes, the best art comes from the messiest moments. You can't plan for the wind, but you can learn to dance with it.

Now, that painting hangs in the senior center, right next to the door. Every time I walk by, I remember: the first slip ain't the end. It's just the beginning of a better story.

Want to see more of my work? Check out the Gulf Heritage page, or wander over to the Intergenerational Art section. And if you're feelin' lucky, maybe you'll find the Miles Davis Listening Nook — where the jazz and the Gulf breeze meet.