Milepost 5: High On A Mountain

“Bare Walnut Branches In Winter, Young Harris, Georgia, I”

charcoal & acrylic on canvas

24” x 24”

2019

“Stuart and I had been in Atlanta for about five years, and I was still so homesick I couldn’t stand it. I missed the gravel roads and pastures and farm animals of Adams County. And so one weekend we were invited to come up to the North Georgia mountains, and we fell in love with the land up there. And we put some on layaway, and we bought some property up there. My grandmother had given us some stock and said, ‘Never sell this,’ and so we did. We sold it. (Laughter from the Congregation) And we bought a travel trailer, and we, we loved it so much we went up there every single weekend. But with one boy in diapers and, well, one boy running around in diapers too, but still running around, it became very close quarters for us. So we sold that and cashed in the other things that people had said, ‘Never cash these in.’ We cashed those in too and built a log cabin in the mountains. And we went up there every weekend. And even though we lived and worked and attended school in the heart of Atlanta, our family became alive on the weekends in the mountains. And if you ask any of us now where we had the most fun, or where we played the most games, or spent the most time together as a family, I think that we would all remember that place most of all.”

Excerpt from a sermon by Faye Junkin Hudnall, Fathers Day, June 19, 2005, Jefferson Street United Methodist Church, Natchez, MS

Much of my creative inspiration is born from the contrast between my two homes, Natchez and Atlanta. As someone who has lived many years in both places now, I often feel as though I exist in the space defined by their differences because I am of both. I see both. I understand both.

Their differences excite me because they beg the question, “What’s Southern? And who decides?”

Small Town vs Big City, Historic vs Modern, Conservative vs Progressive

This is the true focus of my work, the real intent behind my oeuvre. It took many years to get to the root of this, and there have been many, many incarnations attempting to get at this truth, but in the last few years my painting has come closer to finding a way to answer this question on canvas, more than at any time before.

Consider the bare facts of what I do in the studio. In an attempt to have my work, independently and collectively, ask, “What’s Southern?” I present a photographic based image on canvas, drawn in charcoal, and painted with acrylic paint.

Photography vs Painting

Drawing vs Painting

Charcoal vs Paint

Dry Media vs Wet Media

Black vs White

Black & White vs Color

The canvas, an arena for the brawl, has allowed me to investigate these polarities in a controlled space, and the answer, unsurprisingly, is quite simple. Which is Southern? Duh. Both Natchez & Atlanta.

Small Town & Big City, Historic & Modern, Conservative & Progressive

But my South is likely different from yours. This is why my palette vacillates between Black & White and Color. It serves as a reminder that not everyone sees what I see, and there is more than one South.

My work seeks to be that reminder while simultaneously insisting we’re the same. Occasionally, what’s Southern to me will also be true for you. Though I’m inspired by the differences, the contrast, embracing these dichotomies as singular, combined entities creates a paradox that basically states that all of us being different, essentially, makes us all the same.

Ironically, or perhaps fittingly, I finally was able to pinpoint and put into words this intent behind my work, but neither while in Natchez nor Atlanta. It came to me in a place unlike either city but with parts that would claim to be equally as Southern — Appalachia.

North to south, Appalachia is a world unto itself. Culturally, linguistically, it is its own creature, proudly different but with regions every bit as Southern.

So it’s unsurprising to me now that in order to elucidate the roots of my intent I had to literally remove myself from my two vantage points, Natchez & Atlanta, and seclude myself in the mountains high above them. On top of that mountain I had a bird’s eye view of what I was trying to do and how I was trying to do it.

Hence, junkin & hudnall, (as opposed to simply using my name to promote my work) because I am of both. I see both. I understand both, so naturally, I have multiple answers for the question, “What’s Southern?”

Embracing the both-ness of my upbringing, the Here & There, allows me to answer that question by combining polarities, the This vs That, on canvas.

Photography & Painting

Drawing & Painting

Charcoal & Paint

Dry Media & Wet Media

Black & White

Black & White & Color

The result is my take on Southern flora, the landscape, culture, and fare, all paired with treasured photos, heirlooms, and tall tales of Junkins & Hudnalls.

Collectively & Independently, my work is my way of saying there is no single South. We’re a kaleidoscope of accents and customs and flavors, but azaleas in bloom are breathtaking no matter where you happen to find them.