I stopped in Paducah, and I for once I actually saw it.
About five years ago I moved down to music city for college. Long drives to and from my parent’s home in Columbia, MO punctuated that span. In all, I think I have made the trip about 30 times. With experience comes a skill for strategic stops. Paducah is one of the last places to get gas before the corn fields of southern Illinois overtake all other realities. That has been most I’ve gotten from the city, that and maybe a bathroom or some Starbucks.
I was my fathers child, taking long road trips as fast as possible with as few stops as possible, hypnotized by home’s magnetic pull. To me, cutting “travel time” was the obvious choice. The fields, the roads, the trees, the sky, I saw nothing worth stopping for. Clarksville, Paducah, Marion, St. Louis, waited as obstacles I could conquer. In my furious speed, I found a way to make the seven hour drive with a single stop in Illinois for gas and a Vito from Jimmy John’s to eat while I speed. Despite my pride in promptness, for days after marathon drives, my body would ache. I couldn’t rehydrate. The looming threat of driving back seemed to haunt my visit.
To accompany a greater era of change in my life, I decided to sight see on the way home. This March, I have been unemployed for the first time since I was sixteen. I left a job that sucked all of the joy from my life but paid handsomely. Even with the extra cash in my pocket, I felt constant shame. This wasn’t the life I want. Where did my dreams go, where were my hopes and goals? Five years ago I imagined myself in grad school or planted in a dream career. I was lost and often feeling friendless in the metropolis I idealized. Each day shrank me. Every frown my direction, every silent meal time, I was losing a way out. So I stopped fighting it. I quit the job, I took a month to travel and see people that loved me. I love art and food, children and animals, having an adventure. I resolved for a month of beauty, hoping to read the bones cast in front of me.
Two hours into my journey, I pass through a city on the border of Kentucky and Illinois. As it so happens, Paducah is a hub of arts and culture. Not just in a “oh there was a coffee shop with cool vibes” way, but in a UNESCO recognized way. Paducah is one of 246 places that UNESCO deemed a “creative city.” This honor and distinction comes from Paducah’s contribution to American folk arts through the National Quilt Museum, the School of Arts and Design, and Lower Town Artist Relocation Program.
As with many places in the South, Paducah’s history goes beyond handicraft. When Europeans invaded the land, it was inhabited by members of the Chickasaw nation. The land was erroneously named by none other than William Clarke, referencing the Comanche of the Western Plains. The city served as a Union depot in the Civil War, despite the city’s massively pro-confederate populous. Additionally, the area was affected by Order Eleven, expelling the Jewish community of the city from their homes. This was overturned but the community member Cesar Kaskel traveling to DC to personally implore President Lincoln to overturn the order. Additionally, the Black Americans of McKracken county have survive in the face of Nathan Bedford Forrest’s terrorism, lynchings, and segregation.
I include these details not to condemn Paducah or its citizens, but to include a more complete history. The beauty in the city and its artistry is tied to the lives of its citizens. It happens that many of them have experienced state sanctioned oppression. That’s more or less how the cookie crumbles in the South.
Not knowing any of the history or culture of Paducah, I still parked my car down town and dipped into the city. It was while passing the visitor’s center I discovered the UNESCO Creative City status. While stretching my legs, I stopped into three different galleries. First up, I stopped into the Bricolage Art Collective. There, I was met with the cutest, most helpful gallery attendant I’ve ever met. The staff was friendly and the art work was beautiful. I left with a few stickers for the collage on my laptop case.
On the way back to my car, I stopped on a whim at the Yeiser Arts Center. Entry was free with a suggested donation available. I viewed the 2022 members show, and was stunned by the art on the walls. Diverse, vibrant, and innovative, the content showed the beauty of Southern imagination. Prominent were issues of race, sustainability, queerness, and traditional handiwork. I viewed the south I live in, colorful, fierce, and resourceful. I snapped a few pictures and tried my best to find the artist’s who created these works. In the future, I hope to keep up with the Yeiser and travel back up to see more shows.
Traveling back to Nashville, I stopped back in Paducah to check out the main attraction, the National Quilt Museum. The quilts on display all came from contemporary quilters, and all were beautifully crafted. To be very honest, I wish there was more information available on the artists and the process of quilting. Maybe I just wasn’t inside baseball enough to really get into contemporary quilting. Nonetheless, a beautiful display of American Folk Arts.
The beauty of Paducah’s local arts reminded me of the beauty slightly off the beaten path. It’s easy to power through a journey, ignoring what hides in the periphery. Taking the time to experience a new city and enjoy beauty improved my entire trip, rather than derail it. In this season of my life, I need to remember the complicated beauty of the journey. Often I ask myself why am I not there yet? In a certain job, friend group, relationship, or school. Trying to make goals to speed through feels less important now, after speeding through college, getting an office gig, and only finding profound unhappiness with myself. Avoiding the journey avoids the eternal companion, myself. Getting out, laying eyes somewhere new, I am forced to wonder what I want, rather than what should come next. Gentle slowness still feels selfish and unproductive. My entire nature still yearns to speed through life. As I journey forward and mature, I hope to stop in more Paducahs.
froese like fraze 