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Bovina, Miss. -- Folk art.
For many, the term conjures up images of isolated men and women working far
from civilization's prying eyes. These artists are imagined to live at the end of some dusty
dirt road or deep in the bogs of an impenetrable swamp. "Half the fun of visiting such folk is finding your way there," my friend, the slumming socialite is likely to say.
The typical folk art search is a day-long affair, beginning with the vaguest of
directions, a full tank of gas and a county map of the South's nether-regions. Among the
cognoscenti, things are all the better if the quest takes you to one of the
South's less civilized states, such as Alabama, Arkansas or, heaven forbid, Mississippi.
At first glance, Bovina, Miss., sounds like the prototypical folk art environ.
Hell, even the name sounds rural. An unsuspecting outlander would expect to
find that
both human and animal inhabitants chew cud around these parts. Yet this
southwest
Mississippi hamlet is far from isolated. You won't have to pack a lunch or
ford a stream
when heading out in search of Bovina, for it is hard by the side of the urban traveler's best friend -- the interstate highway.
Thousands of cars and trucks travel I-20 each day en route from Atlanta to Dallas or Los Angeles to Birmingham, failing to give Mississippi, much less Bovina, even a
glance in the rearview mirror. The few that do pull off at Bovina usually do so to fill their
belly or their tank. For them, Bovina doesn't exist.
Poor misguided souls...
The lucky few that venture beyond the two service stations that anchor the interstate exit will be well rewarded. For just beyond the Texaco station, across the railroad tracks and around the bend, blooms Earl's Art Shop. (8 miles east of Vicksburg,
Miss., on I-20, take the Bovina exit or call (601) 636-5264 ).
Like a sloppy sandcastle rising from the pine barrens of Mississippi, Earl's will take your breath away. Ask a builder to describe the exterior and they might characterize it as "vernacular architecture." My traveling companion, on the other hand, described it as
"derivative of the postmodern hippy school with a touch of salvage yard rococo." But, no matter how you attempt to describe it, words will fail.
The building interior, low ceilinged with walls listing hard to the left, is no less unique. Like a shrine to the ephemera of a generation weaned on television advertising, every surface is covered with Earl Simmons' art -- homemade renditions of Budweiser,
Kool and Colt 45 ads. It seems that years back he had started out to build a juke joint. Lacking the requisite beer posters and cigarette ads, Simmons built them himself. The results are hand-wrought pieces of pop culture far superior to
any Campbells soup can ever silk-screened by Andy Warhol.
Five foot wooden Kool cigarette packs vie for floor space with three-dimensional renderings of hot tamales -- Mississippi's favorite late-night drinking food. Replicas of Seeburg jukeboxes, made of brightly painted particle board and powered by
hidden eight-track players, belt out 70s rhythm and blues hits. And hand-hewn, toy fire trucks and toy airplanes line the hall.
Usually folk art such as this comes with no established price tag and much emotional baggage. For collectors, the questions are myriad. How much money should I offer for a piece? Should I even attempt to buy a piece? Is my presence alone a corrupting influence? Can he make a jukebox for me just like the one I saw at the House of Blues?
Who is taking advantage of whom?
One visit to Earl's will put you at ease. Unlike most folk artists, Earl is as much a businessman as an artist. Walk into his
shop and he will quickly ask you for $2 admission. Why quibble?
It's more than worth the price of admission; the view from the road was worth that.
Do you
like the three-dimensional platter of tamales? Earl will sell you that one, make you another or direct you to his friends at Vicksburg's Attic Gallery. [Located upstairs at 1406
Washington St., the Attic Gallery may be reached by phone at (601) 638-9221. Well stocked with a variety of folk art and photography, the Attic Gallery is a welcome escape
from recent visits to art dealers with small inventories and large egos.]
My advice?
Get in the car. Gas up the tank. Put aside your pre-conceived notions that the arduousness of the search is in direct proportion to the folk art found.
Stop at Earl's. It may not be hard to find. It may not conjure up images of bucolic scenes of a South long past; but, it's as convenient as a stop at Stuckeys and tastier than a
pecan log.
University of Mississippi grad student John T. Edge covers the funkier side of the South for y'all.
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