The new show at the Foyer Gallery for the month of November is entitled ‘Memories’. Whether they be of trips taken, special places or intimate personal moments…we all have our own memories. Painting, photography, mixed media and sculpture are used to visually reflect on these reminders from the past.
We can preserve the past and we can document the past…sometimes we can do both. Sometimes all we have left are memories in the form of pictures, stories and the things that remain. The two photos that I have entered into this show are b/w images from New Orleans.
The first image is from the Louis Adam House, part of the Historical New Orleans Collection.
‘The Historic New Orleans Collection is a museum, research center, and publisher dedicated to the study and preservation of the history and culture of New Orleans and the Gulf South region.’
Built in 1788, it has certainly seen its share of history. But one particular moment in the past that I imagine when looking at this example of traditional New Orleans architecture is of a young Tennessee Williams running up the stairs to his room in the garret above. The structure remains and so does its past, maybe even a few ghosts.
‘In the 1930s, the house was opened to boarders and for a short time a young playwright—Tennessee Williams—lived high up in a garret room.’
The title of the photo is… ‘Searching for Tennessee Williams’.
The next image was taken along the Mississippi River…on the Moonwalk…a pedestrian walkway fronting Jackson Square.
Already hot…it was early Saturday morning and he had staked himself a spot at the top of the stairs. We walked past to gaze out at the great Mississippi River, our last look before we left for home. A smooth operator, honed no doubt from many years of experience, this disarming dapper older gentleman in a seersucker suit and straw hat, boldly approached us and sang to me…Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans?
I was charmed. His name was T.S. Lark and he told us that he has been playing for 50 years, first trumpet and now saxophone. We thanked him for the impromptu serenade and bought his cd. Someday he will no longer be sitting on the banks of the Mississippi playing for tourists, but I will have a picture to remember him and that hot sunny Saturday morning in New Orleans. He is as much apart of the story of this city as the attractive older buildings that line the streets of the French Quarter.
The title of the photo is…‘Missing New Orleans’.