South of the Border.

This past weekend I visited UNC. I got to see quite a few friends, and I spent time with the American Studies and Folklore department meeting students and learning about the Folklore MA program that I will begin in August. On the road between Charleston and Chapel Hill is South of the Border, a "destination," gas station, and confusing interstate exit.

I didn't remember having ever stopped here, so I was excited to see what exactly this place as. I have since learned that as I child I begged my parents to stop here on our many trips from Virginia to Florida, but I have no memory of that. 

I knew that the stop included a statue (or really quite a few statues) of Pedro - a caricature of a man from Mexico. I did not expect just how embellished the stop was with stereotypical depictions of Mexican culture. In addition to the images at the stop, the interstate features billboards for miles advertising South of the Border. One of them stated simply SHALOM and had Pedro waving. I was riding with a friend who works for the Hillel at the College of Charleston. We found the billboard both confusing and amusing in its odd conflation of cultural references. 

And if you are wondering, #sobPedro is a refernece to South of the Border. Pedro is not crying.

Southern Surprises at Church.

This morning I attended Circular Congregational Church. It was founded in 1681 as a diverse congregation that believed in equality. The church today still holds strong to these values, and is vocal about the importance of inclusion of all people regardless of race, class, gender, sexual orientation, socio-economic status, or any other social category.

When describing the Old South, the adjective "progressive" is not usually the first to come to my mind. Participating in worship today was a refreshing reminder that the South is filled with many types of communities, not all of which fill the stereotypes and ideologies that frequently are associated with the region. I have attended Christian services where leaders spoke of acceptance towards the gay community, but never one where the conversation was quite so blunt and honest about the needs for the church to participate in the fight for equality. I did not expect to have that experience in downtown Charleston, but I am very glad that I did.

A Preservationist.

People don't always know what exactly it means to work for a preservation society. To be honest, I wouldn't have known what it meant eight months ago. Some people think I work in reality, buying and selling historic houses. At least once I was asked if I work in construction. Walking down Broad Street, I noticed this man working on the mansard roof of an old home. I don't physically preserve any buildings. I don't even work in advocacy, so I frequently feel distanced from the actual work of preservationists. I rarely even get to touch the historic buildings, and it doesn't happen because I was invited to do so as I assume this man was.

I couldn't help but wonder if he has any since of his role as a preservationist. 

Cooper River Bridge.

When I was first offered my fall internship in Charleston, my dad's first comment was "are you going to run the bridge?" At that time, I had no idea what bridge he was talking about or that there was any significance to running the bridge. I looked it up and realized that there was a 10k over the Cooper River Bridge (also called the Ravenel Bridge) each April. My initial ten week internship was over well before April, but when I was offered an extension I decided that I would run.

I've never even run a 5k, so working towards a 10k has been difficult but fun. Today I ran the bridge with my two friends who have also registered for the race. On the way back over it, they both grabbed my phone and took pictures for me, so I can't take credit for this.

I'm now tired and sore but I'm glad to say I ran the bridge, and I'm excited for the race in two weeks.

Hampstead Village, Charleston and London.

Each year the Preservation Society chooses what we call Seven to Save. The list is seven sites in the Charleston area that are in desperate need of preservation. One of the 2013 sites is Hampstead Mall, a grass public space that sits in a larger neighborhood. The neighborhood of Hampstead Village was laid out by Henry Laurens in the 17th century, modeled after the typical English village design. The Mall has been split apart by roads and is in a general state of disrepair, but the society is hopeful that it can be restored to its original function as a community space.

Hampstead Heath, London

In an effort to gather up as much information about Hampstead Mall and Hampstead Village in Charleston, I was asked to look and see if there was a Hampstead in England. This assignment has been fun for me; in 2011 I had an internship at an art gallery called Printroom located in Hampstead Village, London. I have spent time at comparing historic and current maps of Hampstead, looking at drawings of the heath, and on Google Street View examining the buildings - and generally being nostalgic. 

It felt like Ireland.

Today is Saint Patrick's Day. Since being in the Lowcountry, I had heard that Savannah knew how to celebrate March 17th. Somehow it had never been mentioned that Charleston had a Saint Patrick's Day Parade.

Photo Credit: Paul Saylors

Around 10:00 I could hear bagpipes so I went to the office that overlooks King Street to watch the festivities. It was a rather short parade, though it included at least three different groups of bagpipers. After spending some time looking into the Irish immigrants in Charleston, it was neat to watch the parade and see the different participating groups and organizations that I have learned about in my research.

The cold rain felt appropriate for the day; hot and sunny just wouldn't be very Irish.

If I met Ryan Gosling, he would want to build me a house.

After a visit to Auldbrass (see previous post), my family headed to Boone Hall Plantation. While the house at Boone Hall is NOT the house that Noah fixes up for Allie in The Notebook, it is the grand summer home of Allie's family. For information about the homes used in the filming of the movie, check out this helpful blog post.

Look familiar?

The house was built in the 1930s in the Colonial Revival style, so it is not actually an antebellum plantation house. The site does include a "slave street" with brick houses built for sharecroppers, but that reflect the design and arrangement of previously existing slave cabins. While not much of the current architecture is from times of slavery, the site did a nice job addressing the layers of history that are present in the story of Boone Hall Plantation. 

And interestingly enough, this house was built in the same general period as the house at Auldbrass. This one was a conscious reference to a historic past, while Wright's house was an effort to find innovation and new designs. It was great to see both houses in the same day.

Title of post from youtube video found here.

Preservation Society Perks.

One of the perks of working for the Preservation Society of Charleston is that I get access to privately owned homes. Yesterday I visited Auldbrass, a plantation near Beaufort (in South Carolina "beau" rhymes with "spew"). While the land itself was a farm as early as the 18th-century, the site now features the buildings and designs of architect Frank Lloyd Wright.

Wright's designs emphasized a unity between architecture and landscape. Most of the buildings are low to the ground, slanted to match the lean of the live oak tree, and topped with green roofs reflecting Spanish moss. The long, low design of the main house made it difficult to take a picture that captures the interest and detail of the structures. Here you have one of the additional buildings on the site - the home of a few exotic birds. 

The current property owner also owns some zebra that were playing on the far side of the estate.

For more information, check out this National Register Nomination form for Auldbrass. 

Ghost signs and a long lost past.

I have walked by this sign countless times. I was aware of it, but had never really stopped to truly notice it. This time, I took a picture.

This "ghost sign" for Southern Furniture Co. decorates the side of a building on King Street. Painted on murals were common at one time, but many have since faded away from buildings. I love the look of a faded advertisement like this one, but I know that if nothing is done to maintain, restore, or preserve the painting, it will soon disappear completely. The sign reminded me of this article published by the Salisbury Post, discussing the preservation efforts taken to revive the fading murals of Salisbury. In a world of digital media, iPhones, and overwhelmingly instant technology, these old painted advertisements remind me of simpler days. They hold a romanticized nostalgia of a past I never experienced: when billboards were painted not printed, when locally owned stores sold quality products made in America, and when Coca-Cola only cost five cents.

The South Carolina Palmetto.

The South Carolina state flag features the palmetto tree and a crescent moon, but Charleston is the only place in the state where the palmetto grows. I have a complicated relationship with the palmetto. On one hand I like it because it is such a vacation-beach tree. On the other, I am not a big fan because I cannot understand that any season besides summer could exist in a location with palmettos. While Charleston is generally quite warm and I will argue did not have an autumn, it did have a winter. Palmetto trees covered in ice and snow are just confusing.

I was relatively sure that I remembered the significance of the palmetto, but I looked it up just to make sure. The walls of Fort Moultrie - a nearby fort on Sullivan's Island - were built of palmetto trees. During the Revolution, British cannons seemed to just bounce off of the rubbery palmettos, helping protect the Charleston area. The flag was later designed by war hero William Moultrie, and it pays homage to the tree that defended the land. 

On most days, I enjoy seeing palmetto trees scattered around downtown, along the battery, and randomly growing in my suburban neighborhood (like this one). They remind me that I am in Charleston and in the South. It just needs to be hot for me to fully accept their presence. But I will probably regret saying that in a few weeks time. 

Snow, sun, and a bungalow.

I did not post anything on Friday or Saturday, so tonight I give you two pictures.

On Friday after work, I drove to Winston Salem. I knew that the weather had been bad and that it had snowed, but I don't think it fully hit me until I was actually in Winston and saw the snow. For some reason my mind just didn't believe that there would actually be snow on the ground, but there was.

Then Saturday's high was 60 degrees. It is hard to believe that within 24 hours the weather fluctuated over 30 degrees. There's nothing quite like springtime in the South.

On Saturday I went to the Reynolda House, which is the historic house of the Reynolds family. The Reynolds family made their wealth off of tobacco, with cigarettes named Camel, Winston, and Salem. The house, though, was really the project of Katharine Smith Reynolds, the wife of businessmen R.J. Reynolds. The large, bungalow house does a wonderful job combining interior and exterior spaces - as typical of a bungalow design. There were fireplaces on the porches, and huge windows that allow the surroundings to encroach on the space indoors. The historic home has been preserved and turned into an American art museum.

Having spent a summer working at Duke Homestead, the site of Washington Duke's family house, I was quite surprised at the grandness of the Reynolda House. Granted, the success of Duke Tobacco was really due to the work of Washington Duke's son James Buchanan "Buck" Duke. Even with this in mind, the Reynolda house was much more elaborate and ornate than I ever imagined.

Pictures are not allowed of the interior of the house, and I was not satisfied with any of my efforts to get a picture of the exterior, so I give you the greenhouse. The greenhouse was closed by the time I got to it, but it matches the design of the pool house, and it was interesting to look at from the exterior. The general shape and design of the garden reminded me of the gardens of the Biltmore. The Biltmore estate is much larger and more extravagant than the Reynolda House, but there is a similar air of wealth and success in the properties. Visiting the sites makes it clear that both families are significant to the story of American history, as it takes someone of remarkable fortune to be able to construct homes of such magnitude.

I really enjoyed the surprise of the house. When going to the Biltmore, I knew to expect a building that exceeded - or at least matched - any home I had ever seen in size, embellishment, and magnificence. The Reynolda house was different; I knew I was visiting the bungalow of a successful North Carolinian. And I did visit the bungalow of a successful North Carolinian. I know now, though, that simply describing it in that manner is somewhat of an understatement. 

Office Decorations.

A well done collage wall can impress me just as much as a revered work of art. What people choose to put on their walls offers a glimpse into a persons passions, history, interests, experiences, and habits. The ease and seeming lack of intention in some collages is beautiful.

The walls in my office building are covered. They may not quite classify as collage walls, but I love seeing what various co-workers have hung around the workplace. The walls tell of our current and past projects, advocacy efforts, and goals. During tours, the walls of the downstairs hallway become papered floor to ceiling with pictures of each house that will be shown over the month of October. Some may think it looks cluttered, haphazard, and messy. I thought it was perfect. And I am only slightly biased, because most of it was up before I started.

Though my work space is not quite as intricately covered as some of my co-workers' walls, I have taped up a few pieces of my own.

The three maps are all of the peninsula, though they are up for different reasons. Furthest to the left, the map shows the old railroad and street car routes within the city; it was made for a project that I worked on briefly in November and December. The small map in the middle is a remnant from last year's tours, and it shows the neighborhoods that we focused on. I'm not sure what exactly the map on the right was for; it was there when I started.

My personal additions are the calendar and the green sticky note. The calendar is the UNC GAA 2014 calendar sent out to all memebers. I thought it was neat that this year's calendar focuses on the columns of the campus. It seems fitting, considering my new adventures in the world of architectural preservation.

The sticky note might be my favorite component of the wall. I don't read it every day, but I like knowing it is there. I came across a quotation which I was researching Charleston during the Revolution and I immediately wrote it down. It essentially sums up my fascination with and love for cities. Every city is alive. It is on page 89 of George C. Rogers, Jr.'s book Charleston in the Age of the Pinckneys:

The mind of a city is a product of the traditions of her people, of the education of her youth, of the reading and writing of her adults, and of the pleasures of her citizens.

The graveyard of angels.

When I came back to Charleston in January I had a great plan to visit different historic churches on Sunday mornings. I thought that attending worship in the various sanctuaries of downtown would be the perfect way to experience the Holy City. Two months in, I have yet to attend a Sunday morning worship service. But today was Ash Wednesday, and I went to church.

I decided to pick a church close to where I park for work (which happens to be in a church parking lot, though not the one I attended). Charleston has an intersection known as the Four Corners of Law. The buildings that stand at the corners of Meeting and Broad Streets represent federal law (post office), state law (courthouse), local/city law (city hall), and ecclesiastical law (St.  Michael's Episcopal Church). This is where I attended an Ash Wednesday service.

I had an hour of time between work and church, and I spent some of the time wandering around their graveyard. They boast the burial spots of some big Charleston names including John Rutledge and Charles Cotesworth Pinckney, but those were not the stones that caught my attention.

This small stone in the walkway grabbed my curiosity. I know that the church is St. Michael's, but I believe that the Saint and the Archangel aren't one in the same. Besides, why do angels need grave stones? There was another stone simply labeled "All Angels," and then another for The Archangel Raphael. These were the only three I saw, but there may have been more. I have never noticed a marker of this sort, and I am intrigued. I am legitimately curious to know the reason behind these markers, so if you have any insight please let me know. Maybe these angels just help keep the Holy City holy. 

My favorite things.

There is a building that sits on the corner of Queen and Church Streets; this building is one of my favorites in all of Charleston. I take a picture of it almost every time I walk by.

I know very little about this brick and stucco building, but I always enjoy seeing it. I point it out to whomever I am with. I get excited whenever I realize my path will take me past the structure. And I want to touch it. I know that statement may sound odd, but I have a thing for texture. My mom and I have noted before that we are drawn to works of art that make us want to touch them, to feel the paint or fiber under our fingertips. I have the same reaction to this building that I do to thick oil covering a canvas. The uneven stucco that reveals brick below appeals to my sense of touch as well as sight; it looks gritty, abrasive, and unfinished. I love it. The pleasant blue juts out from the red and neutral walls, creating thematic focal points within the sea of construction materials.

I have not looked into the story behind this building. I almost don't care to know. It is a part of Dock Street Theater, but that is essentially all that I can tell you of its history. I do know that every day I get to see this building is a good day.

This picture isn't from today.

I already missed a day for my blog. I didn't post yesterday. And on top of that, this picture is from Saturday. I apologize.

The sunsets have been beautiful here lately. There is a moment every day on my drive home where Beaufain Street meets Lockwood Drive and I wait to turn towards the bridge. This moment is always my favorite; the sun is setting behind the water, boats are floating on the horizon, and the drive over the expressway is beautiful.

This picture was taken on a bridge between West Ashley and James Island. My friend Kaela and I decided that it was so bright, it looked like a volcano erupting. Charleston sunsets remind me of just how amazing this place is. I see and work with the architecture every day, so it doesn't always impress me like it should. But the sunsets never fail to catch my attention.

Sweet Tea and Rocking Chairs.

I spent the afternoon at Irvin~House Vineyards and Firefly Distillery doing tastings. The vineyard is out on Wadmalaw Island, which I still don't think I can pronounce correctly. Firefly is known for their Sweet Tea Vodka, and while I'm not a huge fan of either (Gasp. No, I don't care for sweet tea. Yes, I am from the South), it sounded fun.

As we turned off of the main road onto a dirt drive lined with oak trees, it was clear at the sweet tea flavoring in the vodka would not be the only southern component of the afternoon. The tasting rooms were in two barns, separated only by a row of rocking chairs and a couple playing guitar and singing about life on the farm. The liquor flavors included lemonade, blackberry, peach cobbler, and chocolate pecan pie. The wines were named magnolia, palmetto, and - my favorite - tara gold. Most enjoyably, the gift shop was filled with your classic southern trinkets, from mason jar glasses to Charleston recipe books. A particular hand towel caught the attention of my friends, and they joked that it sums up my entire academic interests. The towel read "Here in the South we do not hide our crazy. We parade it on the front porch and give it a cocktail."

They might be right.