After viewing the galleries and museums, I felt inspired, invigorated and much more connected, and it’s made me truly realize the beauty of art: It’s all in the interpretation. Anyone can purchase a pricey picture and hang it on the wall, but it’s when you find the ones that speak to you, that strike a chord somewhere deep inside you and make you feel something, well, then you can appreciate what you are seeing. All of the following galleries are unique in their own way. I’ve had the opportunity to chat with gallery owners, artists, patrons; I’ve seen things I never thought I’d see. When my tour was over, I was taken aback that all of this had been under my nose for a year and a half and I’d never experienced it.

When speaking to the gallery owners, I noticed that they share a common thread: They all want to be part of a larger community. We are fortunate to have a taste of everything here in Charlotte: Art that is strictly for viewing, art that is strictly for sale; galleries that offer works of all media to those that concentrate on one or two specific media; galleries meant to be entered with energy and frivolity to galleries meant to be entered with quiet contemplation – the list goes on and on. It shattered the image of the art world that was in my mind. Each gallery is a piece of a larger puzzle, fitting in with the next to create the big picture known as the Charlotte art scene.

Uptown
Harvey B. Gantt Center for African-American Arts + Culture
551 S. Tryon St.
(704) 547-3700
Tuesday-Saturday 10-5, Sunday 1-5
www.ganttcenter.org
The Harvey B. Gantt Center for African-American Arts + Culture (formerly the Afro-American Cultural Center) has found its home in Charlotte, and we are lucky it has chosen us. The center not only provides visual art, but also music, theater, dance, and arts and education programs. The massive 46,500-square-foot center sits in the heart of Charlotte’s central business district in the area once occupied by the historic Brooklyn neighborhood, which was at one time the thriving center of the black community and home to the Myers Street School. The school bore a prominent exterior stair configuration that was often referred to by the biblical term “Jacobs Ladder” and signified the importance of education and advancement of African-Americans. The Gantt Center has done a wonderful job to pay this structure homage through its modern interpretation in the form of the stairs and escalators that carry visitors up to the main second-floor lobby from both ends of the building while framing the central glass atrium. Coming soon is the exhibition “Evolution: Five Decades of Printmaking by David C. Driskell,” which opens on February 12. Driskell is a renowned Distinguished Professor Emeritus of Art at the University of Maryland and is an artist, art historian, collector and curator, and is one of the most recognized and respected names in the world of African-American art and culture. You can meet Driskell at the center from 6 to 8:30 p.m. on February 12.

Bechtler Museum of Modern Art
420 S. Tryon St.
(704) 376-1101
Monday and Wednesday-Saturday, 10-5; Sunday 12-5; closed Tuesday
www.bechtler.org

It is no secret that the Bechtler Museum of Modern Art has generated quite the buzz in Charlotte, whether you consider yourself part of the art community or not. Having officially opened its doors to the public on January 2, it is only the second museum in this country designed by Swiss architect Mario Botta. It seems a perfect fit. The museum’s current collection includes works by the most important and influential artists of the mid-20th century including Miró, Giacometti, Picasso, Calder, Hepworth, Nicholson, Warhol, Tinguely, Ernst, Le Corbusier, Chillida and many others, and Charlotteans are privileged in that only a handful of these amazing artworks have been on public view in the United States. Between the magnificent architecture, the history, the sense of community the museum brings, the location, and of course, the artwork that is housed inside, the Bechtler Museum of Modern Art is something to be experienced by the local community as well as the global community. Expect big things from the Bechtler.

Hodges Taylor Gallery
401 N. Tryon St., Suite 108
(704) 334-3709
Tuesday through Saturday 11-3, Monday by appointment
www.hodgestaylor.com

Many readers may already be aware that Hodges Taylor Gallery is the oldest gallery in Charlotte, making its debut in uptown in 1981. While focusing on art and artists in the Southeast, Christie Taylor and Dorothy Hodges have educated Charlotteans on contemporary art through paintings and works on paper, sculpture and fiber, ceramics and photography, among others. The gallery also offers consulting to corporate clients as well as individuals. Coming soon is the exhibition “Wayne McDowell: The Artist’s Process,” February 2 – March 31, which will focus on the process of creating art and will show how the “thinking” changes through the process over the life of a career, even though the artist may use the same devices. The work featured in the exhibition will span the past decade (2000-2010). Bookmark February 17 when Wilmington native McDowell will discuss his own thinking process using his artwork and processes in conjunction with the exhibit.

Levine Museum of the New South
200 E. Seventh St.
(704) 333-1887
Monday-Saturday 10-5, Sunday 12-5
www.museumofthenewsouth.org
For newcomers to Charlotte, a visit to the Levine Museum of the New South should be a mandatory reward for the dreaded DMV visit for a new license and license plates. In the heart of uptown sits this hands-on educational museum full of interactive exhibits brimming with information about the New South, a term that refers to the post-Civil War period from 1865 to today. The end of slavery brought about a need for re-invention on all levels, and the Levine Museum captures these times beautifully. Comprehensive for all ages, this museum is a must for all residents new and native, along with those who are simply passing through. For a brief but thorough introduction, duck into the small theater showing the 10-minute video “Cotton Fields to Skyscrapers” to kick-start your tour. Enjoy the exhibit “Changing Places: From Black and White to Technicolor,” which focuses on culture, storytelling and exploring traditions of new and longtime residents. Within the exhibit, visitors will find a new technology known as “video-talkback,” where visitors can record their responses to questions and the exhibit’s themes. The exhibit will become an ongoing and ever-changing conversation – newcomers and longtime residents trading stories and perspectives.

Jesus Saves: If this is your motto, you would love the retro block-lettering signage that says just that atop an old, abandoned, asbestos-filled church just off West Trade in the Wesley Heights area.

Frazier Park Tunnel Mural: Every time my dog and I walk through the tunnel under Fourth Street, I feel I’m transported back to “The Wonder Years” era when the parks were filled with children and picnics, rather than the homeless and drug pushers.  And the truth is, the latter is what I sometimes find along that path.  But with a little paint and artsy vision, the floral mural that decorates the otherwise dark tunnel transforms the mood.

Wind Silos: Whoever said you couldn’t polish poop clearly hadn’t met Ned Kahn – the artist who was able to sex up a dull, unsightly parking garage on West Trade with a mirrored mosaic of metallic fabric that moves with the wind.

The Green: Maybe it’s just the writer in me, but this uniquely playful homage to the literary world is my sugar-free version of Willy Wonka’s factory.  If you stop to read and admire the floating storybook pages or animated artwork, you might feel a sudden, inexplicable urge to pee, brought on by the audible walkway of water sounds.

Firebird: Seated outside the Bechtler Museum, it’s the latest edition to Tryon Street’s collection of commissioned art.  The sparkly, glittery outdoor sculpture of mirrored and colored glass is a great departure from the bronze, aluminum, or granite blandness that decorates the other parts of Tryon.  The Firebird adds a kooky joyfulness to our corporate city streets.

So next time you balk at a few extra dollars being spent on sexing up our city, just ask yourself –would you rather look at a girl in jeans and a T-shirt everyday?

~ Amanda Pagliarini

It’s an understandable reaction.  Museums, galleries, even art itself can feel inaccessible, daunting, intimidating, or simply irrelevant.  Why should people step into the Bechtler?  If they do go, won’t the “I’m not sure I get it or give a damn” sign flashing above their heads be detectable by the artsy people?  What can be gained from a trip to the Harvey B. Gantt Center for African-American Arts + Culture that couldn’t be read in a book?  Isn’t a dance performance just a dance performance, a musical performance just music?  How does a static painting or object have any real affect on a person? Or on a city, for that matter?

These are all questions I’ve asked myself.  And I like art.  I spent my first 25 years of life in Washington, D.C., where there is a gallery or museum for every Starbucks.  Twenty of those 25 years I spent in a dance studio.  In college, when I wasn’t studying the art of language, I was cramming my feet into ballet shoes or learning the creative science behind choreography.  And still, I can at times find myself among the masses in Charlotte who believe our city’s booming art world has nothing to do with me.

During her 2009 Oscar acceptance speech, Penelope Cruz addressed this question of relevance so divinely that it has since shifted my perspective.  With trembling conviction, Cruz shared,

“I always felt that this was, this ceremony was a moment of unity for the world because art, in any form, is and has been and will always be our universal language and we should do everything we can, everything we can, to protect its survival.”

Art is our universal language.  It requires no translation, or level setting.  Art doesn’t care where you came from.  It is unconcerned with your background, education or economic status.  It doesn’t demand that those who look at it be cultured or sophisticated.  Art doesn’t hold an expectation or required reaction.  It just wants you to come and see it.

Experiencing art offers individuals a freedom they rarely find anywhere else in life.  You can see what you want to see, feel what you want to feel, and no one can tell you that you’re wrong. Art allows two people to stand side by side and look at the exact same thing yet see it differently – and when they share their differing perspectives, rather than judge, defend or dismiss, they cock their heads and attempt to see what the other sees.

If art can imitate life, I simply don’t know of anything more relevant to us all.

~ Amanda Pagliarini

Inspiring advice received in one’s formative years so often goes the way of teenage crushes and ambitious goals, tucked into long-term memory. But for Lankard, that piece of wisdom became a lingering reality.

Surveying his latest exhibition of fine-art photographs at DOMA Gallery in Charlotte’s South End, Lankard talks about the ways he’s breaching boundaries. This particular show, “Bodies: Steel and Skin,” pairs his abstract nudes with a California  photographer’s shots of classic car details.

That his subjects are nudes hardly defies artistic sensibilities; the human body has always been a favorite theme of artists. Lankard’s approach to shooting and developing, though, places the female form in an unconventional light.

Photographing models with vintage Speed Graphic cameras using Polaroid positive-negative film, and manipulating the images on location, Lankard brings an artist’s touch to every stage of the process. He frames their bodies in layers of visual texture by solarizing the negatives – or prematurely exposing them to light during developing – scratching them and, back home, leaving air bubbles in the wet-scanning process. To add contrast with the film’s creamy texture and the models’ smooth curves, he shot them in sometimes harsh environments, such as deserts and caves.

Man Ray, the American-born artist who pushed lots of boundaries himself, photographed some of his nudes using solarization, but Lankard’s work adds different dimensions. His careful experiments produce an arresting tableau of sepia-like tone, timeless place and dreamy mood, as though the viewer were peering into the past, present and future all at once, a female figure the one constant.

Shadows are brought into light, lines unnaturally defined and parts of the women’s faces and bodies looking like negative images. In another twist of convention, Lankard often caught his subjects in dynamic tension rather than reclining, giving the shots a sense of motion.

Each model exudes her own personality and sense of confidence in her body. Excepting one woman with small breasts, the subjects fit traditional American ideals of female beauty, but Lankard says he most wanted to explore and celebrate the variety of that form.

“Women’s bodies are like snowflakes. No two are alike,” he says as he surveys his photographs from a red leather couch in DOMA, a scarf tied around his neck. “It’s an endlessly interesting subject to me. I find that I’m drawn to subject matter that is foreign to me or different from me. I have shot some male nudes, but I’m familiar with the male body.”

The confidence of his subjects led Lankard to do the project in the first place. As he worked in the early 1990s in New Orleans shooting portraits and fashion, female friends started asking whether he’d consider shooting them in the nude. The idea dovetailed with his interest in human subjects, so he agreed, at first trying a more traditional approach he had employed in his portraiture. This produced striking shots, but he says the results lacked distinction. Then he realized the vintage camera techniques he had used with other subjects would work perfectly for nudes because of the film’s malleable qualities.

He had bought several of the vintage cameras at yard sales and online auctions after playing with a friend’s camera because the idea of greater creative control appealed to him. He prefers big negatives, having abandoned 35 mm film around the time he started shooting nudes.

Lankard says his nude models, far from posing passively, collaborated with him on the shoots, often suggesting an expression they wanted to communicate. One of the women who posed for some of his earliest nudes recently approached him about shooting her again. She had ballooned to 200 pounds and wanted him to capture her in her new overweight state. He says he likes the idea, again, because for him the photographs are about form, line, texture and the variety and beauty of the female body, regardless of  size or age.

Due to Lankard’s methods, dating the photographs can be difficult, at least for an amateur viewer, and he wants it that way. For this reason he tries to avoid shooting tattoos or body piercings. For him, the organic methods he uses to produce the series represent a response to computerized photographic manipulation. He prefers to trust the unpredictability of the process, and in that sense fits a more traditional mold.

He has shot the women over the years in locations across the country. Though he still photographs nudes, he has slowed down because he says the makers of the film he uses in the Speed Graphic cameras stopped producing it several years ago. He has a case of the film that he’s saving for his nudes series, which he calls “The Illuminated Shadow.”

Tall and amiable, Lankard, 46, grew up in Charlotte and spent most of his early career working in New Orleans and New York, returning to his hometown a year ago to take a break from the post-Hurricane Katrina stressors of New Orleans. He specializes in fine-art and documentary photography in film and digital, including social landscapes, and though he still takes commercial jobs, he hopes demand for his art pieces eventually will grow enough to allow him to work on those exclusively.

While living in New Orleans, Lankard freelanced and co-founded a magazine, where he served as creative director. He moved to New York City in 1997, serving as art director for a publisher, then returned to New Orleans in 2006. There he co-founded the nonprofit New Orleans Photo Alliance to promote photographic art in the Gulf South.

His pictures have shown in New Orleans alongside works by American photographer Andres Serrano, and in a 2007 show in Paris about New Orleans that included shots by one of his heroes, Henri Cartier-Bresson. The DOMA show marks his first North Carolina exhibition, but a group exhibit of documentary photographs that opened in January at The Light Factory quickly followed.

Lankard expected his stay in Charlotte to be temporary, but he says the city has embraced him much more than he anticipated, so he is considering making his hometown his new base.

The human form is also muse for Charlotte painter Katherine Blackwell, a 25-year-old Vermont native who moved here in high school.

Like Lankard, she finds bodies beautiful and fascinating because of the endless variations on the form, and she, too, depicts it in unexpected ways. The complexity and the challenge of rendering an accurate likeness keep her working on as many as four paintings at once as she funnels her energy into a surrealist series called “The Melty People.”

Blackwell says she conceived the concept by accident as she doodled in class to focus her mind. Her father, also an artist, had always encouraged her to explore her creativity. As early as 9, she sketched spider web-like designs and clothed human bodies on the edges of notebook pages, frequently arousing the suspicions of her teachers, who sometimes confiscated the notebooks to redirect her attention, they thought, to them. On a whim one day in her early teens, she erased a line from a web, then erased a leg of a body she’d drawn beside it.

“And it was like a whole new world popped open,” she says. “And I was like, ‘Oh! I can play with them! It doesn’t have to look just like them!’”

Blackwell began manipulating the human form in her drawings, stretching it into ethereal strands that arranged themselves in symbolic patterns and designs or that connected the figures to other people. At the time, she was practicing her skill, but she realized later that the figures she creates have meaning. For her, they represent the emotional connections among people.

“We all have emotions, but we’re all connected,” says Blackwell, a softly smiling, bespectacled woman who looks less like the artist than the ravenous book reader she becomes in her down time. “You might cause somebody pain, but very rarely do you do it on your own.”

As Lankard’s nudes seem to move, so do the bald, naked women who people Blackwell’s creative universe. She paints only the color of flesh against glossy, black canvas, leaving the women bald for anonymity because she wants the viewer to fix on the feelings they symbolize and inspire.

One piece, titled “Navigating Your Way Into the Unknown,” shows a figure that appears to swim through a thicket of the fleshy strands emanating from her own body.

In another, “Pressures of the Non-blinking Third Eye,” a woman screams, her scalp contorted into a web of strands forming a tiny woman emerging from her host’s forehead. Blackwell says she painted this one after an unusual month of suspended painting activity. “I had to get the ideas out of my head and onto something.”

Yep – that’s right. Sprinkled along the Lynx Blue Line, which runs between Interstate 485 and South Boulevard to Seventh Street uptown, is $1.9 million worth of public art. It features the work of 13 artists commissioned by the Charlotte Area Transit System (CATS). This is my first light rail trip, so I’m excited about the ride as well as the art.

I walk toward the sidewalk where I stumble upon my first piece of art, a round concrete relief of two oak leaves, complements of New York-based sculptor Alice Adams. On a scale of 1-10 on the “conspicuous” scale, this would be a 5. If I hadn’t had my head down to avoid the chilling wind, I might have missed it.

A recorded announcement blares: “The train is arriving in one minute.”

“Oh my gosh,” I say to myself. “I need to get a ticket.”  I scramble. I insert a $10 bill into the machine but the face of Alexander Hamilton doesn’t move. Probably because it’s an old, worn bill. I try again. Nothing. I panic. The train glides up to the station. The doors open. I grab the limp bill and jump on.

Now, I don’t advise riding the LYNX without a ticket. Not only is it dishonest, it can also be costly. The fine is $50 if you get caught. My plan is to buy a day pass at my first stop in the South End. Hopefully, I won’t be busted before then. I start to sweat. What will I say if I’m asked to show my ticket? That the machine wouldn’t take my money? That I was too cold to wait? Nobody’s going to buy it.

Meanwhile, I sink into my seat and try to relax. It’s not hard. The LYNX ride is as smooth as butter. No rocking or jerking. It’s also void of that constant “tennis shoe in the dryer” sound prevalent on many older trains and subways. It’s so quiet I can practically hear the guy breathing three seats away.

The scenery isn’t bad, either. Each passing station takes on its on distinct personality. This was the intent of Leticia Huerta, the Texas-born artist who designed the pavers, mosaics and windscreen etchings for 11 of the 15 stations. Each stop features a different theme based on Huerta’s research of our community’s history. For instance, the Arrowood station pays tribute to the Catawba Indians with snake, arrow and feather designs while the Scaleybark station celebrates the area’s growing Latino population through its use of motifs based on Mexican Bingo cards.

Speaking of Scaleybark, the stop also showcases Thomas Sayre’s giant clay-colored sculptures along the median. On the “conspicuous” scale, these babies are a solid 10. Unless you’re asleep, you can’t miss them. The meaning behind these forms, however, is less apparent. And believe me, everyone has their own interpretation. In my case, I visualize prehistoric satellite dishes, the ones Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubble would hoist to their rooftops with the help of a dinosaur.

According to Pallas Lombardi, program manager for CATS’ Art-in-Transit Program, Sayre’s pieces symbolize the harrow discs used to plow the fields in Scaleybark’s former farming community. His work speaks to the change in land use as well as to the movement of cars, trains and pedestrians. It all makes perfect sense, I think. Says Lombardi, “With contemporary art, our job is to educate people about what is original and extraordinary.”

And these disks truly are extraordinary. Constructed out of reinforced concrete, they also contain the red clay dirt used in the light rail excavation. Lombardi explains how Sayre set up a staging area across from the Scaleybark station and molded these 11-ton pieces using pure Carolina earth.

The focus on the local landscape continues with the design of the track fencing at the stations spanning from Woodlawn to the 7th Street station. British-born sculptor Shaun Cassidy took his inspiration from the leaves of four tree species – the Magnolia, the Pin Oak, the Sweetgum and the Cottonwood. He created 40 different metal leaves and welded them onto the standard fencing. Each leaf appears to float along the top of the fence as if being blown by a gentle autumn breeze – not by a cold-winter blast like we’re getting today.

But the coolest part about these floating leaves lies within the web of intersecting bands of steel. Cassidy replaced the natural vein patterns of the leaves with lines of neighborhood street maps. Granted, reading the maps isn’t easy. Due to the leaves’ windswept angles, I find myself in some awkward positions, one that requires me to bend my head and body 90 degrees. It’s not quite like playing Twister, but it’s close.

Cassidy, who teaches at Winthrop University in Rock Hill, S.C., also designed the seating fabric and ceiling art in the 16 rail vehicles. Again, he incorporated the leaf image to highlight Charlotte’s well-known tree canopy as well as the changing seasons.

Alice Adams, the lead artist on the design team for the South Corridor Light Rail Project, used the tree canopy as the central theme. In the exhibition catalog of the SCLRP Artists’ Proposal, Adams said, “We have recognized trees and other plant material, not as backdrop, but as important visual players in the everyday comings and goings of the transit riders.”

Adams, who has served on design projects throughout the United States including the Downtown Seattle Transit Project and the St Louis MetroLink light rail system, also said that her goal was to enliven the experience of people in their everyday passage through public places.

So far, Lombardi says the feedback to the art has been very positive. “If you give people a beautiful, well-designed environment with art, your patrons or transit users are not only going to use the system but they are going to appreciate it and take care of it.”

“What about graffiti?” I ask. “Do you have any problems with that?”

“Believe it or not, most people do not graffiti art,” says Lombardi. “But if you put up a blank wall, they’ll have a field day.”

At Bland Street, I jump off to purchase my ticket. This time I insert my debit card. It works. Whew!  Before I walk around South End., I admire one of Hoss Haley’s five rock-like sculptures. These hand-polished steel and concrete pieces also serve as benches. Although they are boulder-sized, they remind me of the small, smooth rocks I might find in a North Carolina stream, the ones I used to slip on while learning to fly fish. It’s no surprise the Asheville artist labeled his work “River Rock.”

As I run my hand across the shiny dark surface, I notice some strange multi-colored scratches. These marks aren’t graffiti but they definitely don’t belong here. It turns out the sculptures are magnets for skateboarders. Haley acknowledges the problem but says the scratches aren’t going to physically hurt the pieces. He says, “Skateboarding is just part of the urban landscape.”

On the other hand, Haley’s purpose was to bring a more natural element into a very industrial environment. He describes his art as a reaction to the whole ergonomic movement where everything has a specific function. Haley wanted a casual, less obvious seating arrangement, one where people could choose how they want to sit.  He compares it to a big rock in the woods, where someone might rest during a hike. Says Haley, “ My goal was to create a space where someone looks forward to spending a moment of his or her day.”

Another place worth spending time is the 360-foot retaining wall along Camden Street at the East/West Boulevard station. Thomas Thoune, a local artist, pulled together a collection of donated and handmade materials such as recycled china, glass, pottery – even melted marbles – to create a mosaic frieze. In all, there are 33 scenes of Charlotte’s historical South End, including one of nearby Atherton Mill. These intricate wall sculptures look like jeweled jigsaw puzzles. Thoune chose circular “machine cog” shapes to represent the area’s early manufacturing history.

Like some of the other LYNX artists, Thoune worked on the project during a three-month residency at The McColl Center for Visual Arts. CATS and The McColl Center solicited the public for materials, resulting in an overwhelming response. Lombardi says there are interesting stories about each donation. The project includes turquoise tiles from a swimming pool, stained glass from a local church and glass beads from a cancer patient. One person even donated a teacup that had been smashed when a pecan tree branch fell through the owner’s dining room during 1989’s Hurricane Hugo. I’m not sure why someone would hold onto a smashed teacup all those years.

At the 3rd Street station, I see the work of Jody Pinto one of the most well-known artists in the group. Having completed dozens of projects in the United States, Europe and Japan, Pinto knows how to transform an environment with color and light. Her fiberglass canopies remind me of cherry and lime Popsicles as they glisten in the January sun.  On the “conspicuous” scale, Pinto’s luminous canopies are definitely neck and neck with Sayre’s earth-like disks.

About a block over, I run across the creations of another heavy-hitter, Andrew Leicester, an internationally recognized public artist from Minneapolis who was born and educated in England. Leicester uses the Carolina textile industry as his inspiration for the pavers and six columns supporting the bridge at the Charlotte Transportation Center/Arena station. Leicester says, “The columns are a bulbous, organic reference to the industry that made Charlotte prosperous.” He compares each column to a ripe cotton boll just as it splits open, releasing the natural fiber that eventually becomes part of a machine-made fabric. This abstract illustration works. The round swollen columns explode with yards and yards of texture, color and pattern.

But Leicester doesn’t stop there. He says, “Because the columns are globular and pendulous and hang off the beams of the bridge they also allude to the ‘hornet’s nest,’ the nickname given Charlotte by British General George Cornwallis during the Revolutionary War.” Wait. Slow down. Art with a double meaning? This guy really is a heavy hitter.

Heading back to the Sharon Road West station, I think about all the incredible art I’ve seen along the LYNX Blue Line. But guess what? There’s more public art on the way.  According to Lombardi, 23 new artists have been selected to work on the LYNX Blue Line Extension. The BLE is an 11-mile extension with 13 proposed stations, which includes stops at NoDa and UNC Charlotte.

Lombardi says there is a lot of enthusiasm about the extension. “The more culturally rich a city is, the more people will want to move here. There is a real intrinsic value to doing all of this.”
As I exit the train and head back to my car, I pass one of Nancy Blum’s drinking fountains. CATS commissioned the New York artist to create water fountains at 12 stations. Cast in bronze, these pieces feature the flower of one my favorite trees, the dogwood. It’s also North Carolina’s state flower.

I pause for a second. Maybe I’ll have a drink. But then a gust of wind nearly blows me down. I decide to pass. Hot tea on the couch sounds better.

~ Toccoa Switzer