February - Take Time To Appreciate: Photographs by Bruce West





Mrs L.V. Hull, Artist and Philospher

I first met L. V. Hull in 1999. From my previous travels in Mississippi, I had heard some stories about Mrs. Hull and had seen her artwork in galleries in Oxford and Vicksburg. This bit of knowledge did little to prepare me for my first visit to her house on Allen Street. I was amazed and overwhelmed by her front yard where seemingly every square inch was jam-packed with all manner of brightly painted items and artifacts, including a tall column of tires; numerous shoes and boots, of all styles and types, rising out of the ground on wooden stakes or attached to bushes with wire; children’s toys; old TV cabinets; a computer monitor; discarded fans and lamps; several rocking horses; and the head of Mr. T. Amidst all of these objects, beautiful roses, cannas and other flowers added their own colors to the dizzying visual feast. A hand-painted sign along the walkway to her porch announced: “You are Welcome to Tour The Artist’s House.”

I rapped on the door, and Mrs. Hull immediately invited me into her home. I discovered her house arrayed in a similar style, bursting with numerous decorative items and her own artwork. I found one open spot on her sofa, and we proceeded to talk for several hours. While we talked, I viewed her creative work: various two dimensional surfaces (discarded pieces of wood, old serving trays, sheets of metal and tin), hand-made crosses and a variety of large and small objects (everything from salt and pepper shakers to old portable TV’s and hubcaps), all painted with a flurry of brightly colored polka dots on a black background, often with text revealing Mrs. Hull’s personal insights about the human condition. Mrs. Hull also made collages with small objects (unique and unusual buttons, broken watches, costume jewelry, eyes from stuffed animal toys, cigarette lighters, American flag pins, plastic dolls and figurines, bottle caps) glued to scrap lumber. Mrs. Hull told me various stories about her own life; her intuition about being an artist (“Not everybody can do these dots, oh, no”); other folks who had come to visit, including many international guests; and her love for B.B. King’s music (She was saving her favorite collage as a special gift for him). After selecting several pieces for purchase, I asked Mrs. Hull if I could photograph her. She seemed to trust me innately and to understand my artistic intentions. We went outside, and she graciously posed for me in her front yard, in the early evening light, as the day grew cooler. This first visit established a pattern we would re-enact each time I came to see her over the next seven years.

In time, our relationship grew, and I came to realize that Mrs. Hull was truly a philosopher, as well as “The Artist” for which she was renowned. Through her stories and the statements on her signs and crosses, I saw Mrs. Hull as a very wise and sad person, someone who had lived deeply and intensely and had allowed herself the time to reflect upon the meaning and significance of her experiences. Her stories revealed details about her failed marriage, the death of her baby boy and her husband’s failure to attend their child’s funeral. She never forgot these experiences. Like a true Zen master, Mrs. Hull realized that life is suffering. One of her signs tells all: “Love is a Sensation, Started by a Conversation, Spread through the Population, And Hurts like an Operation.” In the face of suffering, courage is an essential virtue: “Courage is the Art of Being the Only One Who Know You Are Scared to Death.” Nonetheless, L.V. loved to laugh (many of her stories were designed to inspire uproarious laughter) and to sing beautiful gospel songs. Her sense of humor is apparent in a number of signs such as one that advises: “How to Be Healthy and Happy Despite the Bomb, Work like a Dog, Think like a Fox, and See your Vet Once a Year.” Concerning personal relationships, she offers: “Face Powder May Attract a Man but Baking Powder Will Keep Him.” On several signs and crosses, she offers essential practical advice: “Go on and Mind Your Business”. Buoyed by her love of Jesus, L.V. wholly loved life. Other signs remind us: “Thanking is not a Time of the Year but an Attatude of the Heart” and, most importantly, “Take Time to Appreciate.”

I feel especially privileged to have known Mrs. L.V. Hull. I miss her tremendously.

Spiritual Advisor to the World

My series of color photographs entitled Spiritual Advisor to the Worlddocuments the spiritual and creative work of Reverend H.D. and Margaret Dennis, a self-proclaimed preacher/artist/architect and his wife in Vicksburg, Mississippi. This elderly couple devoted more than twenty years of their lives to converting Margaret’s Grocery Store into a one-of-a-kind, nondenominational church. Their elaborate transformation of Margaret’s Grocery resulted in the creation of a major site of American folk art and architecture. In his list of the ten most significant examples of Southern architecture, noted American architect and MacArthur fellow, Samuel Mockbee, described Margaret’s Grocery: "Built by Reverend H.D. Dennis, its crude materials and methods of construction place it in an ethereal state of being and perpetual sense of beauty.”

Guided by visions from God, the Dennis’s conversion of Margaret’s Grocery was an inspired labor of love involving the construction of several towers, the creation of the Ark of the Covenant containing tablets inscribed with the Ten Commandments, the invention of new religious iconography and vibrant decorations. A sign at the entrance of Margaret’s Grocery announced: "Welcome Jews and Gentiles---This Church Open 24 Hours a Day.” Another sign promised: "The True Gospel Preached Here.” The towers and the exterior of the former store were covered in bands of high-gloss red, white, blue, green, yellow and pink paint. The interior walls and ceilings of the store and an old school bus were encrusted with religious artifacts, Mardi Gras beads, plastic flowers, hubcaps, Christmas lights and decorations, stuffed toy animals and all manner of discarded items. The Reverend used his church as a roadside attraction to lure visitors, a site where he would deliver fiery sermons and orations about the need to "practice living perfectly" and the ceaseless pursuit of wisdom and knowledge. He preached that all religions are one and that all races and creeds must love one another and live in harmony. The Reverend's re-telling of Bible stories incorporated unique elaborations and interpretations. In the Garden of Eden, the snake walks upright and waves a flashy tail full of diamonds, rubies, and pearls. Eve must do his bidding because women love pretty things.

As God’s appointed Spiritual Advisor to the World, Reverend Dennis’ life history was filled with stories of miracles and divine intercessions. One of the Reverend's favorite stories recounted his own birth. While giving birth, the Reverend's mother died, and the Reverend was left unattended in a deserted house. The Reverend survived this ordeal because angels came down from heaven to nurture and protect him. After three days, he was discovered by neighbors who smelled the decay of his mother's body. When the Reverend was still a baby, a "twister" touched down, picked up the Reverend and transported him to Arkansas where he was safely dropped, laughing, on to soft vegetation. Other narratives described miraculous events that protected the preacher when he served as a gunner in the South Pacific in WWII. Such occurrences convinced the Reverend of his true calling in life. Inspired by these stories, I portray Reverend Dennis as a mystic or Old Testament prophet.

While documenting the Dennis's and their work, my photographs address a number of other themes and subtexts: the Reverend and Margaret’s love of God and their love for one another, their commitment to their work, the role of spirituality in southern culture, folk art and creativity, the joys and demands of the ascetic life and the process of growing older. On a more personal level, my photographs reveal the evolution of my relationship with the Reverend and Margaret over the past eighteen years. When I first arrived in 1994, I was just one of a large number of visitors who stopped to view the primitive splendor of Margaret's Grocery. For the first few years, I must admit I was quite intimidated by the Reverend as he charged up, denounced me as a sinner and demanded repentance. As I continued to visit and photograph, however, our relationship slowly changed until the Reverend and Margaret called me their white son and I embraced them as my mother and father. My photographs are a testimony of my love, respect, and admiration.