terriloui

Mural and letters.

Letters at home.

Thief apprehended, kitchen implement returned.

I tend to set my sights on the ephemeral, worn out and all-things-about-to-disappear. Usually, I come up just shy of the actual disappearance, cutting it extremely close or missing it. In 2013, I didn’t miss, I scored with five vowels and nine hardy consonants, salvaging these letters for some future, who-knows-what usage.

A small, independent, used bookstore and community art space I loved in Charlottesville announced it was closing, heralding some changes to come on West Main Street. Ryan Deramus, the stalwart owner of Random Row Books* sold off his inventory, tipped his hat and cycled away. The building was slated for demolition and a hotel to be built on that footprint. Feeling a bit like the Lorax, I climbed on the tree stump out front. I wanted to claim some vestige of what soon wouldn’t be, something familiar, some token: the sans-serif letters. Ryan told me I was welcome to the signage, relating how he’d found scrap wood in the building, handmade the 14 letters, painted and mounted them. I struck a deal with the building’s owner and site project manager to get in-and-out on the Sunday before the No Trespassing signs appeared, and I bartered with a co-worker (another Ryan) who is good on ladders to get the job done.

Ryan E. helps with salvage.

Ryan E. with W (or maybe upside down M?)

I’ve made several trips to the site as the former building became rubble and the new one ascends. The Cheyenne mural seems to cast it’s own eye and mute opinion on the goings on.

In 2014, I took the letters out on the town. We visited with artist Simon Draper and his Habitat for Artists residency at The Bridge. His habitat, made of recycled materials, was constructed on site, then deconstructed to spend a weekend at the Main Street Market and now lives at the Ix Art Park in Charlottesville.

The white paint on the letters is chipping in the expected wabi-sabi way after six years of weather. We continue to have wordsmith and anagram fun out back by our shed. My typographer’s eye tells me I need to fix the kerning, too tight propped on the ladder as is. But I can fix that. It’s OK man.

(*Do read the wonderful backstory on the bookstore and mural when you have a chance, I admit I barely did it justice. We bought books, saw live bands, theatre and picked up our veggie CSA there back in the day. Joni Mitchell knows… they paved paradise, put up a parking lot.)