Old friends

I first met the iron worker/ sculptor, Bill Brown, when he was a hell raising 19 year old chasing, in equal measure, women and the demons within himself.

This year, turning 50, he reckoned that a good way to celebrate both his birthday and his 25 years of being totally committed to Alcoholics Anonymous would be to come to Windgrove from his mountain home in North Carolina, hang out as an artist-in-residence for a few weeks and chew the fat with me.

For a week now, Bill and I, along with his travelling buddy, the energetic, younger Pino, have been having the equivalent of a “boys’ night out” with great peals of laughter and lots of food accompanying the recounting of our times together at the Penland School of Crafts in the late 70’s and early 80’s. This “catch up” has been tremendously rewarding as all three of our hearts have been massaged. And, even though Bill and Pino bemoan the lack of their womenfolk (Liz and Annie) partaking in our joy, we are also appreciative of this opportunity to “just be guys” together.

Any of us who have met up with friends from years past understand the bittersweet quality of such a meeting. Sprinkled into the good natured humor and telling of stories are those accounts of deaths, trials and tribulations. Over the years we have all experienced the full gamut of emotions and somehow we have survived.

What is tremendously rewarding for me is to see how Bill’s passage through life has left him a truly caring, compassionate and generous person. He demonstrates this in many ways, but what is most impressive to me is his weekly role as an AA sponsor in a North Carolina state prison. That’s courageous work. It is also creative work. Bill doesn’t separate this aspect of his life from his studio art. One feeds the other.

Bill demonstrates that talent as an artist is not a birthright. It comes with living.

I salute you, Bill Brown, for the life you have carved out of the material given you.