![[arti]Fact & Fiction](https://b1743416.smushcdn.com/1743416/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/arti-postcard.jpg?lossy=1&strip=1&webp=1)
artifact [ahr-tuh-fakt] something created by humans usually for a practical purpose; fiction [fik-shuhn] An imaginative creation or a pretense that does not represent actuality but has been invented. Rusty sheets of metal. Peeling painted boards. Rusted motor parts. Old printer’s blocks. All these things and more have found their way into Caroll Williams’ assemblage art and Donna Varner’s photography.
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Is it “performance art”… or an art performance? The Gallery in downtown Beaufort invites you to a weekend event that’s sure to bring out your inner explorer. For three days and three nights, Michigan based artist Jessica Montgomery (left) will live and work on public display. Completely submerged in her work, she’ll create art inspired by her experiences and explorations of the Lowcountry… and you’re invited to watch.
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Like so many families across America, mine has been chafing under the impact of the lingering (and lingering… and lingering…) economic recession. Making do with less has quickly and effectively become a way of life – hey, we had no choice – but the necessary attitude adjustment – always a choice – has been a little slow to catch up. The good news is this: We’re getting there. And summer’s making it easier. ‘Tis the season for simple pleasures, and I’m beginning to think the simpler they get, the better.
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As editor, I’ve received a lot of comments about Lowcountry Weekly over the years – mostly good, occasionally otherwise. In the “good” category: People tell me they love our design, enjoy our photography, find our ads tasteful and attractive, swear by our maps, can’t live without our “What’s Happening” calendar, and so on and so forth. In the “otherwise” category? Well, let’s just say there are lots of armchair proofreaders out there. If I had the budget, I’d love to hire one of them. But as this is not the case, I must rely on your mercy and forbearance. Typos happen. And believe me – it hurts me more than it hurts you.
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Beaufort-Jasper Water and Sewer Authority held its annual Poster Contest this Spring, in...
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Members of First Presbyterian in Beaufort packaged 10,000 meals (in two hours!) for school children in developing countries. First Presbyterian Church of Beaufort packaged more than 10,000 meals on on a recent Sunday afternoon during a two hour event for Stop Hunger Now, an international hunger relief agency.
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It’s not just twice a year anymore! A long-time dream of the Friends of the Beaufort County Library (FOL) has become a reality. Through the efforts of Library Director, Wlodek Zaryczny and the downtown Beaufort Library branch staff, the Friends have established a fabulous new gently-used book store in the former Beaufort District Collection Room, located on the main floor to the right as you walk into the Beaufort library.
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Beaufort’s Tim Johnston talks to editor Margaret Evans about SSA’s growing web presence and the upcoming launch party for its first anthology. Margaret Evans: Tim, you gave me a great interview when you launched the Short Story America website, about a year and 1/2 ago. Now you’ve published your first anthology, which we’ll discuss in a bit. But what kind of readership have you built for the website since its inception?
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USCB Lunch With Author Series keeps bringing the heavy hitters… Have a perfect summer treat with John Hart, the unprecedented two-time winner of the coveted Edgar® Awards for best novel and NY Times best selling author, at the USCB Lunch With Author Summer Series on Wednesday, July 20, 2011. Hart will address his latest novel, Iron House, which will make its debut at the luncheon held at the Sea Pines Country Club. Lunch will be served at noon.
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Editor’s Note: “Israel’s Pig” is the winner of the Lowcountry Weekly/Short Story America Tricentennial Short Story Contest. Congratulations to writer Guy J. Tirondola. (And thanks to Jonathan Green for the use of his images.) “Isril, I won’t lose dis child tuh hunger,” Mina said as she rocked her young son to sleep. Noah sat on her lap, head on her chest, and exhaled a plaintive moan that grew softer and softer with each breath. The wood plank floor beneath the chair squeaked with the rocking, and the sound seemed to soothe the boy. “He ain’ growin’ proper,” she added. “He too small an’ delicate fuh five year ole.”
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