Amazing, fantastical news like the results of UC Berkeley Professor Jack Gallant’s team research that proves that you can recreate, in technicolor pixels on a monitor, what your brain is envisioning just makes me sad. I feel like a junk heap of slowly rusting parts. “K, try cranking it up now…,” “No, wait! I found it! We’re ok. That rebelious spark didn’t originate from independent thought, just a crossed wire. All fixed now. You can return to being a productive battery in the Matrix, Joani…”

I probably should have never watched that movie. I still have regularly recurring thoughts wondering if it didn’t portray more truth than fiction – on literal levels, as well as nailing humans dead-on metaphorically. Then I get pissed off about the Matrix humans needing painful existences to not reject their programming. I promise that if you let me stay young, with working joints, and the illusion of freedom, I’ll be happy!

But that’s it, really… all the layers of illusions being stripped away. The more mechanical that science discovers us to be, whether adjusting our personalities and dispositions with this chemical or that, or translating our dreams into movies for anyone to see, the more I wonder if I’m really anyone at all…

I promised to visit Angela True’s new studio in downtown Madison awhile ago, and a combination of freedom from work and this morning’s beautiful weather gave me the chance. I enjoyed the walk from my neighborhood in warm sun and gentle breeze, relaxing enough to appreciate the commune vibe of 16 Main Gallery by the time I arrived.

The last time I interviewed Angela, she worked mostly in solitary glory from her home studio. Not here. I was greeted by every artist and artist grandchild in attendance this morning.

Lisa Riccardi, Martha Marks, Ned Carron, and Angela’s two little painters in training all took the time to make me feel welcome, making sure I knew the story of the 250 year old house and all those who create, teach, and display their art within:

• Bedrooms, back porch, and utility rooms contain small studios where the resident artists work and display their individual pieces
• The main living area serves as a combined gallery/sales floor



• A bright and cozy back parlor is let out for small events and get togethers. Consignment artists’ work is also displayed here.
• And a classroom takes up the dining room. Intimate groups of five to 10 students learn to create their own art here. See the schedule

The nine artists of 16 Main Gallery offer great diversity in style and medium, even while inspiring and influencing each other, like when Ned provided bags of clay to his painter friends and “assigned” them the task of sculpting to enhance their perspective. And some, like Martha attend all of the art classes held in the gallery’s class room. She proudly displays her work as student along with her professionally finished pottery.

I would recommend anyone to stop by and visit 16 Main Street, Madison, if for no other reason than to soak up the artists’ generosity of spirit and hear their stories. Check the schedule to see if you can play with their clays and paints while you are there. Or, take a piece of handcrafted jewelry, mixed media photography, or pottery; maybe a painting in acrylic, oil or watercolor; or even a sculpture or mosaic to add some of their creative soul to your life at home.

It’s a small town, but everywhere I went was bustling like an impossibly friendly city. I was raised mostly in small towns, and my husband lived in the same small town for most of his life, but Cadiz ramps up that “everyone knows everyone” vibe by, like, 10 million percent.

Hancock’s Market was packed in the afternoon and all the checkout people knew their customers and chatted with them and their neighbors as they priced their groceries. John L Street Library was a constant stream of in-and-out and people meeting and greeting. I laughed at myself at one point thinking I had found “the mall”, with all the young people interacting.

Even East End Cemetery: I wandered its rows for two days, spread over five different two hour shifts, and I don’t think I was alone for more than twenty minutes at any time. Sometimes it was maintenance people, but mostly it was loved ones visiting the site to talk a bit or place another memento. The drive by visits really had me smiling to myself. A car would pull up to an area, then the driver window would go down as the operator anxiously scanned their designated headstones and, assuming all the little statuettes, flags, flowers and what-nots were all as they should be, the window would go up and the car would move on.

I have never seen a more decorated cemetery. I took over a thousand pictures, only documenting about a third of the entirety, and almost every headstone had a little something on or next to it. Many had so many decorations that you couldn’t see any information on the stone. I was constantly bending to gently lift the edge of a flower arrangement or nudge a hanging plant to sneak a snapshot of the data buried under the gifts of remembrance.

There was no Home Depot, no Wal-Mart, no Best Buy, and no Kroger. At first it hit me as, “yep, this is a small town!” but even the smaller towns (population wise) that I and my husband were raised in had a major chain store or two. After wandering and watching, and after reading some of the old newspapers in my research efforts, I came to the conclusion that there will never be any of those big box stores in Cadiz. I believe they are very purposeful in what they allow into their community and that they believe in their community supporting each other.

Overall, it was like stepping into an alternate reality for me. I know I was in a small country town, but I easily obtained everything I needed during my visit and there was abundant technology around, including wi-fi hotspots everywhere I needed one and laptops and cell phones being used all around me. The number of people around me at all times continually astonished me. Then count in the complete lack of chain stores and neon presentation of consumables, the fact that it’s a dry county, and the continuing real interactions between human beings every where you look and it just seems like a place of contradictions that couldn’t possibly exist.

I know there are aspects of the place that I could never truly appreciate, like the dry county part – I enjoy a good glass of wine and my husband loves his specialty beers – but I sure envy them their sense of community and wonder what Madison, AL could be like with a bit more of that.