What else is sprouting at Taylors Mill? On November 3, First Friday and Open Studios coincide; it's a perfect opportunity to get to know some of my neighbors. While I am not participating in either - the deadline for Open Studios was April and I did not move into the Mill until mid-July - I do enjoy partaking in the events. The weather is favorable, 13 Stripes Brewery is opening its doors for a peek at construction and a taste of their wares, Due South Coffee is rolling up its garage-size doors, and a food truck and cupcake vendor are on the premises. The vibe in the air is Millennial but inclusive.
Tonight my husband is joining me as we first ascend the stairwell leading to Shane Bryant's William Felton School of Craft. Shane and I go back a few years, as former co-workers, when his vision was to hone his craft in clay. Vision accomplished. But what surprises me tonight, in the rear of his massive studio/school, is a white wooden structure. The handcrafted vessel reveals Shane's more recent passions: boat building and sailing. Curious? Contact Shane with inquiries; I tend to stick to the shore.
Traversing across the parking lot to another portion of the Mill, climbing the concrete and steel stairs, and walking through a door marked "WRK GRP," we enter a space filled with a bevy of French-doored studios. Among the two dozen studios on the second floor are those of sculptor Allison Anne Brown and painter Nathan Bertling. Both are Open Studio artists. Classically trained, Nathan works in oil: landscapes and portraiture. There are a number of self-portraits in his space, each with a penetrating gaze as painter becomes painted. If you have ever attempted a self-portrait, you know it demands mustering an objectivity more easily accomplished painting others. I email Nathan following my visit: "The portraits are strong, dignified, and seem to encompass what I imagine to be the best of each of your portrait sitters." He also opens his studio for weekly sketching sessions; best to check his website for details.
As we again walk across the parking lot, I am oblivious to the fern underneath the walkway - the one awaiting our Wednesday morning encounter. Life sprouts in the most unexpected places.