Beauty Amidst the Chaos
Transitions are hard. Change causes me to jump through hoops and not in a fun, dolphin splashing, somersaulting way. When I reviewed my ideas for the artist story for the Creative Pinellas Emerging Artist Grant from last June, I had more to say. I stopped before finishing because the organisation’s changes felt seismic. I understand the need for changes in that they answered artists’ pleas for inclusivity, yet the landscape I had mentally mapped out for my career path shifted. Then the hurricane season started, and our physical landscapes surrounding us also shifted.
At the end of September, Hurricane Helene skirted the Tampa Bay coastline before making landfall in Florida’s Big Bend region and causing catastrophic flooding to neighbouring states. In the City of Safety Harbor where I live and work, the iconic Brock Memorial Fishing Pier, an emotionally significant site for many people, was destroyed. In the days following Helene I realised the relief response ripples out in concentric circles from what you can do personally in your own home, to how you can help your neighbours, to what can you do for your wider community, to how can you ease the pain of people suffering in more dire situations further away. The week following Helene I cleaned a lot of tree debris, first from our yard, then our street, then city parks. There weren't enough places to put the fallen branches so we stacked them off on the side of the roads. My husband and I salvaged as much wood washed up on Bayshore as we could with the intent of making something useful and beautiful from the wreckage.
Then Hurricane Milton set its sights on Florida. So many thoughts and feelings surged through my mind and body as I pushed down panic. The debris I had helped pile up were potential flying missiles. My eyes were ever-fixed on the fluorescent forecast tracker but the diameter of the circle as seen from the satellite image was terrifyingly large. Reports showed Milton was intensifying to Category 5. The storm surge was predicted to be up to 15ft. Everything inside me was telling me “GO.” Under normal circumstances when we carry out daily activities we don’t really think about supply chains. Yet this weighed on my mind. How can they fill up the fuel tanks if they can’t access them? Pinellas County is a mini peninsula within the Florida peninsula. How can they restock supermarket shelves if the roads are impassable? I do not want to be here without food, water, and electricity for days or weeks.
Family members were telling me to wait. Don’t go in haste. Be calm. As a mother I am the emotional rock of the family. My energy directly influences my three kids. My husband was working away. I was responsible for everything. So many thoughts and questions coursed through my mind. I knew I had to make a decision. “GO. GO NOW.” Sunday after Church, I filled up the car gas tank, and my neighbour helped fix our generator. I battened down the hatches as best I could. Monday morning, I moved our guinea pigs and chicks indoors and prayed as I left them with enough food and water to last a few days. I was determined as I put everything of importance in the vehicle and set off for Tallahassee for the first night. I felt shame and guilt for having privileges, flexibility, and a means to leave. To quell these dark feelings, I sought gratitude.
That was October. Then came November, and with it even more changes. Less than five months have passed since Helene washed the Fishing Pier away, and throughout the process of clearing more debris and putting things back together I had a deep desire to recreate a scene of the Safety Harbor Fishing Pier in oil paint as it presently stands, before it gets rebuilt. A painting to document the impact for future generations and to capture the sentiment that there is beauty amidst the chaos when you take the intention to observe it.
