SOLD
20 x 24
Oil on Linen
Will be on display and for sale at the Jaquelin Jenkins Gallery 516 East Main Street Elizabeth City, North Carolina
Starting November 7 through November 28
Not the hoedown most would want to attend. Hoeing and pulling weeds out of a peanut or pepper patch in the middle of the day in the middle of Summer in the flats of Eastern North Carolina ain't a party of any sorts. Back before herbicides, hoedowns such as this were an everyday chore when the weeds and Johnson grass started peeking over the tops of the peanuts.
As a kid, I was constantly reminded this time every year by my dad that farming wasn't just riding a tractor all day, and with that statement a sharpened hoe was shoved in my hand and in the rows it was with Sis Mit, Sis Bulla and Sis Bulla's son Howard - seasoned veterans of a mid-summer's day hoedown. There were also a few other experienced recruits, and as soon as the hoeing started, a double feature of the best BS'ing I've ever heard in my life followed. The verbal ping pong pecking order started with the two sis's and moved down from there. No one spoke out of turn, but when it was her or his turn it was verbal rapid fire rebutting the volley before. Just like a tennis match, it was back and forth with no holes barred on the subject matter. When someone finally scored, an eruption of laughter would echo down the field. This would go on for an hour or so, then someone would crank into a gospel hymn and the rest would follow in sync and tune. After a song or two, it was time for a Navy Snuff and/or Cannonball Chewing Tobacco reload at the end of the row. After everyone was positioned back in the new row, it was verbal king of the hill again. This would go on into quitting time at the end of the day.
A few weeks ago, I was in Maryland and our group painted on an organic farm. I arrived early and started walking around with my camera and was able to get a few snaps of some workers having their own hoedown in a sweet potato patch. No southern black gospel hymns and no zingers going back and forth between the rows, but a nice reminder of the old days nonetheless.
Howard Gilliam having his own hoedown on Friday Night circa 1985
