Six stories from Ocracoke
At 1pm on Monday 30th January the ferry left the dock and the Ocracoke Art Adventure officially ended. Although we had an overnight stay in Wilmington with Jim and Laura that evening and a whole day of travelling back to London on the Tuesday it felt an important moment as we watched the island slowly fade into the distance.
It feels impossible to sum up the adventure in a single blog post and we will continue to reflect and learn from the experience for many months to come. We both feel changed by the island but not in a way that we can yet describe.
So instead, we thought we’d simply share six of our favourite stories from our time on Ocracoke and invite the reader to make their own sense of what it was all about.
One night in Zillies (Steve)
After Jim and Laura left on Wednesday 11th Jan I had 6 days alone on the island. I liked the idea of having the freedom to explore and meet new people. I imagined myself chatting with random folk I bumped into and introducing myself to shopkeepers, artists and other local characters and making new friends.
But as often happens with me in these situations, I didn’t and my introversion got the better of me. Instead I slinked around, nodding at people I passed or saying a quick “thank you” to people in the Variety Store. I felt simultaneously shy and disappointed in myself. I was neither making loads of art, nor meeting loads of people - the two objectives I’d thought were at the heart of this adventure.
It took me until the first Saturday for this to change. For a few days I had been popping into Zillies, the only bar on the island that was open and only between 4pm-8pm. I liked it there and it gave me something to do in the evenings before cooking dinner. But even though it was a friendly place I’d got into the habit of getting a drink and going to sit in a quiet corner outside, wrapped up in layers of warm clothes.
But on the Saturday I found myself sitting at one of the two small tables inside, next to a crowd of people who had just met and were getting to know each other. I listened to their conversation. It was interesting to learn more about them as they told stories about their lives. I remember thinking to myself “how do people join in conversations like this?” and that surely this was a life skill I should have learned by now.
I can’t remember how it happened but I suddenly found myself contributing to the conversation uninvited. I think the group were talking about wildlife and I suddenly blurted out something about the dead birds on the beach (sadly due to bird flu.) As soon as they heard my accent they seemed to become really interested in learning more about this quiet stranger sitting in the corner pretending to type on his phone. They asked me questions about where I was from and what I was doing in Ocracoke. I decided that I wanted to draw this interaction and in order to do so I needed to know everyone’s name and three facts about them. This was a good incentive to be braver and ask questions and I used this tactic on other occasions meeting groups of people in Zillie’s. For the first time since being alone, I felt like I was having fun.
As I left, one of my new friends, John Spag, came up to me and said “Hey. One of my friends posted a picture of some art on the beach to the Ocracoke Facebook group. Did you do that?” For a moment I wondered if he was going to complain that it was an eyesore but I confessed to being the artist and he said “Shit! That’s amazing man. You wait until I tell him I’ve met the artist” and then took a selfie with me to post on the group.
That one interaction changed everything. After I left John told the bar staff all about my artwork and about the other British artist (Jo) arriving the following week, they told other customers and the word began to spread.
I felt very contented on my cycle home. I now knew some people’s names and some of their backstories and they knew about me/us and what we were up to in Ocracoke. And, even better, it all happened spontaneously and naturally. Both Jo and I were very keen to not make a big announcement that we were going to Ocracoke to make art. We’d declined the offer of being introduced to people in advance, preferring to see what would happen naturally. And that night in Zillies it felt like it had began. I felt like I had become a small and temporary part of the island community and started to feel at home for the first time.
Springer’s Point + Meeting Peter (Jo)
After I’d been on the island for a couple of days, Steve and I cycled to Springer’s Point, a small nature reserve near to the lighthouse (the south/western end). We sat for a while watching the birds and wondering what they might be (no internet = no bird identification).
We walked a bit further and as it suddenly got cooler I stopped to add another layer. At that moment, a man walked up behind us and commented on the weather. As we got talking he spotted Steve’s hoody, which had the WOVV local radio logo on it, and he asked where he had got it from. He introduced himself as Peter Vankevich. It turned out he did some regular radio shows as well as running the local paper. We’d actually read some of his stuff in the Ocracoke Observer.
He asked us if we’d like to be guests on one of his weekly radio shows, and we quickly said yes. It was a very exciting coincidence to meet him AND get the invitation as when we had been talking about the trip with Jim and Laura, they had asked if we’d like to be introduced to some people at the radio and we might possibly also be able to do a show. We had liked the idea but had decided to meet people organically so we were delighted that had actually happened. I like how it was because we sat on a bench for a while and looked at birds, Steve wore a particular hoody and I stopped to put on a jumper, that we met him there.
Meeting Peter lead to being on the radio show, being interviewed by Connie Leinbach (the other owner of the newspaper), being introduced to a local artist, doing some promo work for the radio station, and more. It reminds me of what Steve wrote about here, on quantum flirting.
Peter also told us some stories about the island. These included a mysterious man who walked into the sea until he was underwater and his hat floated off. He told us about deserted Portsmouth island, anecdotes from the radio show and the turtles and the birds. He also shared with us some of his favourite music - on and off air. The full-circle loveliness that happened was that Peter later met Elizabeth and David, the documentary filmmakers that we worked with, also at Springer’s Point :)
The dog, the cat and the Pastor
(Steve)
One windy day I went to the beach alone to see what driftwood the storm from the night before had washed up. After spending an hour or so painting a big mural on a battered piece of timber I was walking back towards the road when I spotted some creatures running around on the sand.
There were what looked like three small dogs, two of which were bouncing around chasing each other, the other looking like it wanted to join in but didn’t know how.
I noticed that one of the dogs looked strange. It was a bit too slinky and bendy to be a dog. As I got nearer I realised it wasn’t a dog but a siamese cat, jumping around and playing with a little white terrier. It was a strange scene not only to see a cat and a dog playing but also to see a cat on a beach. I find out-of-context animals fascinating. (Seeing cows on the beach in Ireland many years ago was a particular favourite)
I made a cat noise and the siamese started to come towards me, followed by its doggy friend and the other dog who didn’t seem to fit into this strange relationship. A smiley man in a hat and his wife seemed to be overseeing the scene. “Is this your cat?” I asked. “It sure is!” he replied in a jolly southern accent.
He introduced himself as Tim and told me a wonderful story of how his son had found the cat as a kitten in a bad state and had brought it home. The little white dog had adopted it as a surrogate puppy and helped it recover. “I swear to God this is true” Tim continued “the dog started producing milk to feed the little kitten. It became its mother and the cat became her daughter.”
I chatted with Tim and his wife Paris for a while. I told him that we were making art and he told me that he was the pastor of the island church situated near the lighthouse. The fact that he was a pastor made me believe his “swear to God” statement about the milk even more. Tim and Paris invited us to come to their house anytime to see the animals.
A Puncture at the Ponies (Steve)
Jo and I decided to cycle up to see the famous Ocracoke ponies one day. Legend has it that they swam ashore from a shipwreck several hundred years ago and have lived on the island ever since. They roamed the island freely for many years until the main highway was built in 1959.
Since then they have lived in a specially made pony pen and cared for by the National Park Service. I’d imagined wild ponies running around and coming up to be stroked but when we arrived I was somewhat disappointed to find that they were behind two rows of fences with a wooden viewing platform situated even further back from the pen.
We didn’t bother with the viewing platform and instead sat on the floor watching them through the fence and eating cheese. The ponies seemed to be intrigued by us - either because we were sitting on the floor appearing to be hiding from them or our cheese smelt really good.
The pony pen was an 8-mile ride from the house but as it was a pleasant day we took our time ambling along the cycle path spotting birds and looking out for Nutria on the verges (Note from Jo: it wasn’t an amble, it was me going full speed!) Just before we arrived I noticed that riding my weird old bike was becoming more and more difficult. I looked down and realised the front tyre was going flat. This had happened to me the previous week and, as it had been a slow puncture, I’d managed to cycle back to the house to fix it. But this one was worse. (We suspect a prickly pear had done the damage!) Within minutes the tyre was totally flat and the bike was almost impossible to ride. I didn’t have a pump with me as the one Jim had lent me was huge and too big to take on a long bike ride so there was no way of re-inflating it.
We decided to not worry about the puncture and go to eat lunch by the ponies anyway. At least it wasn’t windy or raining like it had been the previous day. We started to come up with ideas of how we could get back to the house. Maybe I could ask a passing motorist if they had a pump? Maybe the National Park Service had a ranger stationed at the ponies with a collection of magnificent inflation devices? Or maybe I’d have to walk all the way back with Jo slowly cycling besides me shouting motivational messages to stop me getting too tired/bored/despondent.
Despite asking a number of motorists if they could help, it seemed that nobody on the island (or in the US?) carries a foot pump in their car so we started the long walk/slow cycle back towards the village.
As we walked Jo said “Something will happen and then you’ll say ‘this is the reason we got the puncture'.'“ I liked the idea of that. That some adventure would unfurl by just simply letting things happen naturally. But as the few trucks on the highway passed us by without stopping I started to doubt it.
Then a bright red Mini pulled up and a familiar smiling face called to us from the window. It was a lady who I’d spoken to earlier who didn’t have a pump and had apologised profusely for not being able to help. She’d decided to drive back and offered to take the two of us and the two bikes back to the village in her tiny car. It was such a ridiculous plan that we had to say yes. We wedged the bikes in the back of the car, tied the half shut-boot to the frames to hopefully stop them falling out, squished into the front passenger seat and headed off back to the village.
In that short journey we learned a lot about this kind stranger. Her name was Meraké and she was a writer living on the island. She told us how she’d visited the island as a child and fell in love with it. She also told us that she really stood out for having a tiny bright car when everyone else had huge jeeps to cope with the regular flooding. She explained that she’d once had to make a long walk along a similar part of the road and that had motivated her to come back and help us. We told her we were artists and about the beach art and were delighted when she said she’d seen some of it and loved it. We said we were on the island for another week and she invited us round for dinner one evening before we left.
Sadly we didn’t have time to take her up on her offer. Nor did we have time to visit the Pastor, his wife and their animals. And that for me sums up something very important about the Ocracoke experience - that having an entire month, on a tiny island in the quiet off-season still wasn’t enough time to hear all the stories and have all of the adventures that were waiting for us.
Creatures and Critters (Jo)
One of the main things we were excited about seeing on Ocracoke were the animals. Cats, dogs, turtles, crabs, the ponies…and whatever else showed up. But we only found crab shells and a dead turtle, and the ponies were behind two layers of fence.
However, we did get to see a lot of animals which we weren’t expecting…
On the day that Steve got the puncture at the pony pens, we were helped by Meraké who told us she had seen five dolphin pods that afternoon. I asked her if that was common and she said you could often see them, and described the kinds of times they are at different parts of the island (they sort of move round to the West, following the fish?!) Then, after Steve’s bike was back in working order, we cycled to lifeguard beach. Almost as soon as we arrived, we saw some dark shapes in the water and realised they were dolphins! I think we probably saw quite a few different groups. I loved how they seemed to move in the water, their backs and fins slowly moving through waves. They actually seemed more powerful in their ability to move so steadily in such strong, moving water.
I also had no idea I’d get to see pelicans. I love them! They are so dinosaur-like. I love how their heads and beaks point down as they are flying. They also had an unexpected similarity with the dolphins, in the way they would sort of hover/soar slowly. They seemingly kept the same distance above the waves, again looking like they were moving in this incredibly controlled way. Some of the waves would be pretty big and it was very windy but they still managed to glide closely above them, keeping a very similar distance. I guess they were hunting for fish rather than doing it for fun. They also dived down into the water from a great height, causing massive splashes. I have no idea how this doesn’t hurt their heads so they never do it again.
We also saw many smaller birds, most of which we didn’t identify, though we did learn which was the American robin. In my uk-centric mind I thought there was only one robin so I was surprised to see this lengthier version (very technical bird language). I also now have a new appreciation for the word “critter” which was used quite widely to cover all manner of living things, including by the National Parks Service in official signage.
Making and not Making (Jo)
Before going to the island, I had envisioned long days in Jim and Laura’s house, full of painting and drawing. I took a lovely Khadi log book, ready to fill with observations.
I planned to paint portraits of many of the cats and ponies.
Very little of this happened. I painted in the house a handful of times. I drew on about 20 of the 100 khadi pages. I painted the ponies on one A4 canvas and felt irritated by it every time I saw it for the next two weeks. I wondered if Jim and Laura would be disappointed we hadn’t DONE more. Plus, there is always the capitalist cultural expectation to make all time valuable, productive, useful, meaningful.
So I realised that all of this was part of the residency; the expectations and then the reality of how we responded to being on the island. It’s not that I just sat and stared at a wall for two weeks (though that could also have been a prolifically creative way to spend my time). We got to know people organically. As I mentioned above, we ended up being interviewed for the newspaper, we were on a radio show and we recorded promo material for WOVV. We were rescued from a long walk pushing our bikes and managed to fit three people and two bikes in a small car. We helped people meet who had not met before. Art conversations on the beach happened (another artist responding to Steve’s driftwood installation). We kept this patron blog updated. We filmed a documentary. We listened and observed and learnt.
