Home Is Where The Art Is
Home Is Where The Art Is is a living photo series and diary-styled writing piece by artist Des Grain about his hometown of Surry, Virginia. As a small, predominantly black town, his upbringing was shaped by family and cultural pride that this small town exudes. This series focuses on key moments in the artist’s childhood and how his upbringing helped shape his vision as an artist.
GOING Into town
My Grandma used to always sit at the Court House and watch cars drive by. As a kid, I’d catch Bus 6 to her house after school. As soon as I got there, I dropped my bookbag, and we’d go into town.
First, we’d stop by Addison’s, which is now QwikStop. It’s one of the main gas stations in town. I’d go in for Grandma and get a Pepsi, a BC, and some food from the kitchen.
Afterward, we’d stop by the post office to check the mail and then head to the courthouse parking lot to watch cars pass by. Sometimes, friends and family would stop by to say hey. I’d be a little annoyed because Grandma would make me get in the backseat so they could sit in the front. Somehow, they never stay too long for me to not get enough time with Grandma. As we watched cars pass, she’d tell me stories about my mom and my uncles when they were kids.
We’d talk for hours until my mom got home from work to pick me up. Seems like forever ago, but like yesterday at the same time. I guess I never understood why Grandma would sit there so long. Grandma was outgoing, and going into town gave her energy.
She loved Surry. She never wanted to leave and never did. It’s where she grew up. I realized this was her town and her people, and she was a queen. So if you see me in town, stop by and say hey. I might be sitting at the courthouse talking to Grandma.
Mr. Bruce
In my hometown, everyone knows about Mr. Bruce. As kids, he filled many of us with fear as he'd walk through our town with confident strides.
One day my grandma saw him walking and decided to give him a ride. Fear went through my soul, and I sank down in my seat. He said "Hey Essie, how you been" She responded, and asked him the same question.
My mouth dropped. The man I had feared for so long wasn't scary anymore. I realized he had a heart and soul just like us. From that day, I always went out of my way to speak to Mr. Bruce.
Beauty Of The BackRoads
I was raised on the backroads. My mom always wanted her own plot of land. She bought a few acres and a single-wide trailer for me and my sister deep in Surry, on the backroads.
Every day, we’d ride through backroads to get to Grandma’s house, go to Williamsburg and Smithfield, and on a good day, we’d go across the bridge to Newport News. It was so dope to see fields of cotton, corn, and collard greens that the local farmers would plant.
At the right time of day, the black water creeks would reflect the trees above it, creating a natural mirror. The backroads were therapy. Because to go anywhere, you were forced to sit with your thoughts while heading to your destination.
The difference between isolation in an empty space and isolation in nature is that nature allows your mind to create new thoughts based on observation. Creating the opposite effect of confinement, which is freedom. So, on days when I need to clear my head and it’s hard to think clearly, I grab my keys and take the backroads—hoping to find the inspiration and clarity I found as a kid.
Created by Des Grain
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