It Takes A Bahama Village

Ah yes, the unabridged story that I know you’ve all been impatiently waiting for — the one which finally makes sense of the mural I’ve been working on over the past few months. It’s a long one, so I don’t suppose a large number of you will get to reading it fully. Maybe I’m wrong?

Whatever the case, it was culturally important project, and I’m happy with the finished piece. But before I get to the backstory, I offer you a shameless plug, even though I’m totally conflicted with this contest…

Today is the last day to vote for the Key West People’s Choice Awards where I’ve been chosen as a finalist in the “Artist” category. I’ve been in the finals a few times now, but have never won. From what I gather, there’s an element of campaigning that I’ve always neglected, so I suppose it’s worth noting that in lieu of spending time self-promoting, I’ve been in the studio making new work beyond the mural, and I think that’s really the basis for being an artist — to create art.

Anyway, maybe the story I’m about to tell is a good enough reason to prompt you to check a box, so here’s the voting link…

Without further ado, the story…

In my more than two decades of living and working in Key West, the historic Old Town neighborhood of Bahama Village is where I’ve always called home. It’s where my first residence was — a small Conch house on Thomas Street — and where, for the past decade, I've set up shop for my arts-based company, Coast Projects.

I’ve been fortunate enough to imagine, create, and build a life with my two kids in one of the neighborhood's oldest structures — a sunburnt, cedar-planked dwelling on Whitehead Street that somehow, despite its worn and weathered bones, still manages to house my studio, gallery, upstairs loft apartment, backyard skate ramp, slow-growing garden, and unending collection of family dreams under a tattered and rusty metal roof that lies beneath a 100-year-old mahogany tree all one block from Hemingway’s House, Blue Heaven, and Green Parrot. Or, to put it more simply…the center of the cultural universe here on the island.

History surrounds us — and seeps into every turn we make on our morning walks around the block or afternoon bike rides to the beach. We are lucky to have landed here for our own moment in time and continue to work hard to leave a positive mark on the community for the future.

And so, when I was notified last September of an RFP (request for proposal) from the city’s Art In Public Places Committee for a neighborhood project at the new Frederick Douglass Community Center just two blocks away, I was eager to get to work — head buzzing with ideas, followed quickly by late nights mapping it all out in my studio with the windows open and the Bahama Village ambient soundtrack mixing together with a scratchy old Miles Davis record in the corner near my drafting table. I felt like this project was made for someone like me — a quiet, longtime resident looking to contribute something enduring to the community that has always had my back.

Having painted a handful of large-scale murals over the past ten years, I know that story and scale (in public art) are impressive only when they’re relevant and add to their surroundings. And since Bahama Village has so much history — while at the same time still being home to many families that have lived here for generations — I wanted to shine a light and pay respect to the actual people here who settled and, ultimately, galvanized this place through the years.

With that notion in mind, I came up with the concept of “It Takes A Bahama Village”. This, of course, is using artistic license for the old adage “It takes a village to raise a child…” which has been traced back to various African cultures.

The essence of the idea, for me, is that there have been many people involved in building, strengthening, fostering, and ultimately continuing the legacy of this place and community. And so, the mural would shine a light on some of these important folks who have made a mark on Bahama Village since it’s settling — while simultaneously acknowledging that they are still only part of the Village’s lasting legacy in Old Town.

Choosing the subjects was the hardest part of the process, so I started with a personal list of mostly obvious past and current residents, then branched out to ask local history experts who could offer more insight into the academic end of the spectrum. 

But I also wanted to distinguish between “notable” residents and “beloved” ones because the two don’t always overlap. So for this part of the research, I simply grabbed a notebook and walked around the neighborhood on a sunny Saturday afternoon. I ended up talking at length to a handful of longtime residents — a few of them native Bahama Villagers — who were happy and excited to offer names like Harry Chipchase, Calvin Barnes, Ruby Bain, Roosevelt Sands, Betty Cox, Bill Butler, and Mary Weech to name but a few. And my list — which started with a few politicians and a handful of the neighborhood’s famous jazz music men — grew to include pastors, educators, midwives, and athletes. What a perk it was to learn so much more about the history of my neighborhood while creating what may have otherwise appeared to simply be stylized street art on a wall.

With a few dozen names written down in my pocket notebook, some quietly overlapping throughout conversations — others too obvious to ignore — I gridded out a map of the mural in my head to figure out the approximate number of people who I’d need to settle on.

Based on the sketch that followed, the magic number looked to be 19 — with the grid offering three different sized squares that would neatly (but still stylistically) tile the entire wall. Each square would contain a single portrait in my own recognizable street art style which uses high contrast to create one image using only two colors — a background color and a subject (or fill) color, with the final palette chosen as I sifted through mid-century jazz albums looking for color combinations that felt bold and bright but still classic and contemporary.

The portrait process I just described above is a technique I’ve slowly evolved (initially out of pure necessity) through more than a decade of work as a screenprinter when, early on, I only had access to a borrowed single-arm printing press. This limitation required all of my early designs to work with only two colors — a background color (usually a t-shirt) and an ink color for the contrasted design. This printing method and design style has carried on throughout my career, even as I brought newer, multi-head printing presses into my workshop. In a way, this transition reflects and mimics the slow evolution of time and place. Strong, yet simple design ideas, rooted in history and harmony, are timeless — even as the modern world turns and attempts to displace them with convenience and comfort.

The same can be said of neighborhoods.

Working the number of portrait subjects down to 19 was no easy task. In fact — knowing I didn’t have all of the answers — I added a clause to my proposal stating that I was eager and open to any neighborhood input that might help finalize the roster should my proposal make the final cut.

Ultimately, I was honored to have earned the winning bid.

Then the neighbors chimed in.

And a project that was originally supposed to be complete by early spring was stalled for the sake of democracy — a crucial step (and concept) that I was not required to take, but which ended up making the piece entirely more fulfilling and impactful because the neighborhood felt like their voices were being heard.

Oh democracy, how we love you. Please stick around for the next generation to enjoy.

Before I wrap this up, I do want to take a moment to thank a handful of people who helped on-site during late-night marathons and sweltering mid-day sessions alike. Timothy Goldkin came down from Maine and offered a huge primary push that helped get all of the color blocking and many of the portraits started. We also coined many hilarious site-specific terms that stood the test of time throughout the project. Tip of the hat to my good bud Chris Higgins, who I’ve been collaborating with longer than anyone on the island. He came down from Gainesville for a long weekend and helped finish up the portraits. He was also the Adobe master who helped digitize the portraits into more workable files as that is not my specialty. Shout out to Jack MacDonald —local street artist and all around good dude — who came in to help with second coats, fine line improvements, and finishing touches. He also had the foresight to always arrive with bottled water and an FM radio. Kristian and Naia (my kids) offered plenty of moral support and even some painting in the homestretch. Naia put herself to bed on many a school night so that I could continue working, and Kristian cheered me on from school in the spring. Finally, John Martini offered a home base for all of my tools and equipment at the big blue studio across the street — plus words of encouragement from the studio and then from afar in France.

Special thanks also to Liz Young from Keys Arts and the entire Art In Public Places Board for trusting in my vision and ability.

And a thousand thanks to Bahama Village for allowing me to make a lasting mark on the neighborhood.

Lastly, thanks to all of you for making it this far. If you’re in the neighborhood, the mural is located behind the Frederick Douglass Gym on Emma and Olivia Streets. I think they are planning to do some type of ribbon cutting ceremony in the near future, and Bahama Village block parties can’t be beat — so don’t miss that one!