29 minute read
SPOTLIGHT
PEOPLE | SPOTLIGHT
A Sisterhood of Faith
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Ten ordained women gather for a roundtable discussion about shared experiences, challenges and the occasional mid-service blunder.
text by JILL CLAIR GENTRY • photos by MEGGAN HALLER / KEYHOLE PHOTO
When Rebekah Abel Lamar visited Government Street Presbyterian Church for the first time in 2019, she walked down a long hallway adorned with portraits of the church’s previous pastors. Dozens of men stared back at her. Later that year, Lamar became the first female senior pastor in the church’s nearly 200-year history. Despite meeting nothing but enthusiasm upon her arrival, Lamar felt the weight of her historic appointment all the same.
“I had to come in and tell myself, ‘Here are all these people who have led this church so faithfully, but I’m going to have to do it differently because of who I am,’” she said. “I can only do this the way I’ve been called to be a leader.”
In February, Lamar hosted a roundtable discussion with a group of nine other ordained women who lead in Bayarea churches or ministries. Sitting around a large table in the church’s library, the women shared their experiences with serving in ministry. The big takeaway? They couldn’t believe most of them had never met. The women reveled in their shared calling despite their many differences — theological, denominational, political, racial and socioeconomic.
“It’s always the men forming pastoral ministerial alliances and such,” said Shree Shaw Lovett, who serves as an evangelist at Apostolic Church of God Rapture Preparation Center in Mobile and is Alabama Coordinator of the National Day of Prayer Task Force. “I love that God is breaking all those walls down and bringing all of us together in the same Spirit.”
After the discussion, emails flew in, everyone scrambling to plan another gathering.
“That was the most fun,” wrote Lydia Knizley Johnson, Missioner for Development with the Episcopal Diocese of the Central Gulf Coast. “I’m completely serious that I want us to all get together and hang out and continue in friendship.”
Equipped to lead
Although it is still rare to find churches led by women, female clergy are becoming more common. According to researcher Eileen Campbell-Reed, in 1960, 2.3 percent of U.S. clergy were women, and in 2016, that number rose to 20.7 percent. At the roundtable, the pastors discussed what unique gifts women bring to leadership roles in religious communities.
“I think women are naturally great managers and directors,” said Mary Alice Mathison, Missioner for Mobile with the Episcopal Diocese of the Central Gulf Coast and parttime associate at St. Luke’s, Mobile. “Historically, women have had to take care of a lot within family households, and I think we bring that with us — some of the things we are culturally taught we should do are also great gifts in ministry: being able to manage, direct and multitask.”
The women talked at length about being themselves in their leadership roles, allowing their femininity to be a part of who they are. It’s tempting for women who lead in any capacity to lean into the traditionally masculine parts of their personalities, but around the table, the pastors celebrated how their vulnerability, sensitivity and open-mindedness have allowed them to connect with their congregants in ways that can be more difficult for men.
Opposite Ten female pastors gathered at Government Street Presbyterian Church in February to discuss what it’s like to be a woman in ministry. Instant friendships were forged.
“We are compassionate and sensitive by nature, and that draws us to be more open-minded to situations and to see things from the eyes of others,” said Jessica Durr, who has served as pastor of Metropolitan AME Church in Mobile since 2017. “The sensitivity we possess compels us to be sensitive to the needs of our congregations.”
Lamar said being a woman has, at times, allowed her to overcome people’s deeply held assumptions about what to expect from a church.
“If people have an idea of what the church is, particularly if it’s a negative one, just the fact that I’m not what they expect allows me to get past that a little bit,” she said. “I have found that to be a real gift.”
Juggling roles, finding meaning
All of the multitasking these women do — most of them are wives, mothers and even grandmothers — can lead to some humorous moments as well as powerful epiphanies.
Kathy Jorgensen, who has served at Dauphin Way United Methodist Church for over 50 years, is a mother of four and grandmother of five. She’s the kind of mom who buys virtual reality headsets so she can play online games with her adult children because that’s what they enjoy. So, it’s unsurprising that each year, she puts together elaborate themed Easter baskets for her grandchildren that reflect their interests. “WE ARE COMPASSIONATE AND SENSITIVE BY NATURE, AND THAT DRAWS US TO BE MORE OPEN-MINDED TO SITUATIONS AND TO SEE THINGS FROM THE EYES OF OTHERS.”
– Jessica Durr, pastor of Metropolitan AME Church in Mobile
“One year, I was specifically looking for anything that was related to Curious George, the monkey, for their Easter baskets,” she said. “So that was on my mind all weekend. On Palm Sunday, I was praying in front of the church, and I said, ‘Jesus rode in on a monkey.’ And I thought, ‘Oh my, I just said ‘Jesus rode in on a monkey.’”
“I immediately corrected and said, ‘donkey’ and looked around — no one in the congregation was laughing. So, I thought, ‘Oh it’s OK, no one heard it. Everything is fine.’ But after I finished my prayer, I turned around and the whole choir was stifling laughter. And to this day, I have not lived it down.”
Anna Fulmer Duke, associate pastor at Springhill
Opposite page, left to right Historic Government Street Presbyterian Church was the setting for the roundtable discussion. Lydia Knizley Johnson shares what encouraged her to become an Episcopal priest. Mary Alice Mathison talks with Jessica Durr. Left Shree Shaw Lovett, middle, laughs with fellow pastors Anna Fulmer Duke, left, and Alexandra Hutson. Above Jabaria Dent, left, sits with Kathy Jorgensen. Below Rebekah Abel Lamar, middle, leads the group in a closing prayer.
Presbyterian Church and mother to a 1-year-old boy, reiterated that spirituality is found everywhere, not just inside a church building. Juggling multiple roles — pastor, mother, friend — encourages her to find meaning in the ordinary tasks of life.
“Sometimes we think we have to find God’s presence in church pews, but when we bathe our babies, we can remember our baptism or think of Jesus washing his disciples’ feet when we wash those little toes,” Duke said. “When we eat a meal or enjoy a cup of coffee together, we remember Jesus’ last supper with his disciples.”
Ministry in Mobile
The 10 pastors come from vastly different backgrounds, many from places far from Mobile. Some grew up in the area, left for college and returned to accept a position at a church. All of them expressed gratitude to have found themselves living and working on the Gulf Coast.
“I haven’t been here for long, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Mobile, it’s that people here know how to throw parties,” said Alexandra Hutson, associate pastor at Government Street Presbyterian Church. “People here have this special energy and enthusiasm about them.”
Johnson, who grew up in Mobile, possesses a deep fondness for the area. “Those parties are how we express our belovedness to one another,” she said.
Lamar commented on the community’s connection to water and the unique beauty of Mobile Bay and the Gulf of Mexico.
“You know, in the 1500s, Spanish explorers sailed into what we call Mobile Bay, and they called it the Bay of the Holy Spirit,” said Pam Hanes, an ordained minister who has led Pam Hanes Ministries for over 30 years. “How blessed we are not only to live near the water and have the Holy Spirit in us — but we also get to live around the Bay of the Holy Spirit. I think that’s so special.” MB
text by JOSH GIVENS photos by MEGGAN HALLER
DEEP
ROOTS
The story behind the fallen oaks of Bienville Square is one of destruction leading to dreams, chaos leading to craft, and a new history being written for the city of Mobile.
A GUITAR CREATED BY CHRIS FAYLAND FROM THE BIENVILLE SQUARE LIVE OAKS
BIENVILLE SQUARE. PHOTO BY MICHAEL THOMAS / MICDESIGNS
HE WHO WORKS WITH HIS HANDS IS A LABORER. HE WHO WORKS WITH HIS HANDS AND HIS HEAD IS A CRAFTSMAN. HE WHO WORKS WITH HIS HANDS AND HIS HEAD AND HIS HEART IS AN ARTIST.
- Saint Francis of Assisi
I’m sure you’re wondering what exactly the 13th-century Italian Catholic monk Saint Francis of Assisi, Bienville Square and a bunch of oak trees all have in common.
It’s simple. Assisi might as well have been describing the creative individuals who have fashioned stunning works of art, furniture, musical instruments and more from some of Mobile’s most hallowed trees. After Hurricane Sally wreaked havoc upon the beloved Bienville Square oaks in September of 2020, city officials deemed several of them to be a risk to public safety. Teams of arborists and other cultivation management experts from seven different states arrived in our beloved port city to assess the tragic situation. In all, 12 trees were either uprooted during the storm or damaged beyond saving; it didn’t take long before people began wondering what would be done with the wood.
“After Sally hit, there was a lot of outreach from creative people in the area,” says Lucy Gafford, executive director at the Mobile Arts Council. “The Arts Council became the organizing force for getting the pieces of wood into the hands of artists. We had a simple application process. You just had to fill out your info, descriptions of your artwork and whether you’d be willing to have your work in our exhibition. It was open to anyone, and a lot of people accepted the offer. The Urban Forestry Division of the City of Mobile relocated all the salvageable tree trunks and put them in a warehouse to cure for a few months before we were able to start disseminating them. We had about 40 artists who made off with a chunk of Mobile history.”
Arts Council Development Director Angela Montgomery says she was surprised by the outpour of interest from these local artists — a development that she found incredibly encouraging.
“Mobile is a thriving arts community,” Montgomery says. “The fact that so many reached out to us was heartwarming. At first, there had been this outrage over the trees being cut down, and it all seemed like a waste, but now it’s really grown into this idea of supporting the project as art patrons.” The pieces were displayed in March at a special Mobile Arts Council exhibition.
MB recently sat down to shoot the breeze with four representative artists who told us how they came to acquire the wood, what they made and continue to make with it and how they’ll give back to the communities they’ve come to love so deeply. We think you’ll find their stories just as fascinating and inspiring as we did.
For Chris Fayland, the possibility of scoring a piece of Bienville oak meant much more than just a chance to have some spare wood lying in the corner of his workshop. The Fairhope-based custom guitar builder says the wood represents a deep-rooted family connection and a truckload of fond memories.
“I think everyone from this area has a memory of Bienville Square,” he says. “I have lots of childhood memories that happened there, so the trees have sentimental value. As a kid, I went to Craft Day. My grandma took me.”
“And the second time his grandma and grandpa ever saw each other was at Bienville Square!” chimes in Chris’ wife Amy. “The first time was at a drive-in restaurant in Mobile. But the second time was at Mardi Gras at Bienville Square. She told us, ‘There he was. And that’s when I just knew. And we went on our date and from there, the rest is history.’”
“We had no idea about that story until she told us,” Chris says. “So if you think about it, I wouldn’t even be here without Bienville Square. When we first went to pick out our piece of wood, it was in the shape of a heart. Something pulled us toward that piece; we didn’t even know that story with my grandma at the time. I initially thought I would build an end table, but one thing led to another, and it ended up being a guitar.”
When the story of the Bienville oaks first hit local news, Mobile City Councilman Ben Reynolds just knew he had to lasso at least a fragment of the wood.
“I think I actually got one of the biggest logs,” Reynolds says. “It was about 3 feet in diameter; maybe 5 or 6 feet long. I took it out to a sawmill and had it cut into slabs along the grain as a furniture maker would. The most trying thing about the whole process was that it was full of nails and other metal,” from decades of advertisements nailed to the tree. “I think they actually broke a bunch of blades. But it does give the wood some character.”
Speaking of character, the local businessman, husband and father says the things that he’s creating will not only be practical but will go right back into the community.
“These oaks belong to the people of this city, and I want to make something that will continue to belong to them but that will also be utilized by the community beyond art. Drew Ramsey is the owner of Azalea Home and Custom Furniture here in town, and we want to do a project together. We’re turning out some really nice pens at the moment. He will sell those pens, but there won’t be a whole lot of profit in it. The bigger project is to make a pair of sitting chairs. They’ll likely have leather or some sort of covering on them, and they’ll be nice and sturdy. It would be cool to have them in City Hall as a good way to ensure that the Bienville oak remains in the city. That’s just one idea. We’re certainly open to other ideas and other places where they would be accessible.”
CHRIS FAYLAND, FAYLAND GUITARS
The destruction of the Bienville oaks wasn’t just a tragedy for Fairhope resident Brandon Fischer. It was an opportunity.
“I’m a big fan of preserving historical trees, even though — as a woodworker — I do like to have the wood to use. It was utterly heartbreaking to hear that the trees had been damaged. The city as a whole really lost something that can’t be easily replaced. Sure, you can plant new ones, but they won’t be the same ones even 200 or 300 years later.”
Fischer made some unique items for the Mobile Art Council’s exhibition event.
“The wood had a lot of cracks in it from being stored and dried, so I kind of had to work around that,” he says. “I immediately made two bowls — I filled some of the cracks in one bowl with epoxy, and then I left the other bowl natural. I’ve been working on a wooden mallet as well. I’m going to make a couple of those.”
But it’s the local, cultural and historic significance that genuinely excites this woodworking enthusiast.
“I think it’s really cool to have that sort of deep connection to a place and time, and I plan on donating all of my artwork to the Arts Council to have or to sell for whatever grants and projects they have going on.”
BRANDON FISCHER
As a lifelong Mobilian who loves the people of his city, 67-year-old Fred Rettig wanted his work to leave behind memories and impressions that would last forever.
“Although I wasn’t initially paying close attention to the Bienville story when it happened, I did hear that the trees were going to be trimmed, and I thought it would be nice to get a piece of the wood and do something with it. I wasn’t actually even aware of just how much damage had happened there.”
“Once I found out that they were going to give the wood away and that the city was going to help, I reached out to Lucy Gafford and asked her to get us on the list.”
Rettig was overwhelmed by the historic significance of the trees.
“If only these trees could talk and tell stories about all they’ve seen and heard in their lifespan: World War I and II, the Great Depression, a speech by Theodore Roosevelt in the early 1900s. These trees might not be able to speak for themselves, but woodworkers can give them a voice.”
And that’s exactly what Rettig plans to do.
“You know, every woodworker has their own thing that they love to do with wood. And now we’re able to take a part in Mobile’s history and bring it into visual imagery. We can literally take some history of the city and make something visual and community-oriented out of it. We can take a part of Mobile’s seemingly tragic history and make it beautiful. We’re using our hands to create something wonderful, using something that grew in Mobile to create new memories. I’ve made wooden bowls and have done some arts shows. I call mine “Broken Bowls” because most of the pieces I displayed have cracks, just like people do. I’m also making a vase, as well as a vessel that will mimic the Bienville Square fountain.”
Bienville Square may be a different place since 2020. But if you walk the grounds there, stop and listen closely. You can almost hear the trees thanking the artists for preserving their legendary history as they all breathe a collective sigh of relief. MB
FRED RETTIG
Pieces of History
History buff, craftsman and collector Steve Boyleston of Fairhope has spent five decades cultivating his passion for rare antiques of American history, and he has the collection to prove it.
TENNESSEE TOMAHAWK
Year: 1840
Size: 18 inches
This Tennessee-made tomahawk features a black walnut handle, an iron blade, an ivory tip — and it even doubles as a pipe. A silver plate on its handle identifies its previous owner as Tennessee attorney and governor Aaron Brown. When the Mexican-American war began, Brown’s call for 2,800 volunteer soldiers was answered by over 30,000, solidifying the “Volunteer State” reputation gained during the War of 1812. According to Boyleston, this tomahawk was likely made as a presentation piece for Brown following a settlement he arranged between Native Americans and settlers.
text by BRECK PAPPAS • photos by ELIZABETH GELINEAU When it comes to collecting, Steve Boyleston is a big believer in the maxim of quality over quantity.
“I don’t have a collection of 3,000 items,” he says. “I’d rather have a small collection of really special pieces.”
That’s not to say a lot of antiques haven’t passed through the hands of the Fairhope resident; Boyleston estimates he’s bought and sold at least 1,500 Kentucky long rifl es in his lifetime. Born in the backcountry of Aiken, South Carolina, Boyleston fi rst fell in love with the weapon of the early American pioneers while watching Disney’s “Davy Crockett” series, released in 1954.
“I remember thinking, ‘That is the greatest thing in the world, to live out in the mountains and wear buckskin clothes and carry one of those long guns,’” he says.
Boyleston was a teenager when he built his fi rst long rifl e, an experience which only deepened his appreciation for the craftsmanship of those early gunmakers. Since then, he has spent more than 50 years researching and trading the antique fi rearms, and he joined the Kentucky Rifl e Association in 1985. Along the way, whether working as a professional painter, paper hanger or hotel developer, Boyleston began performing living history demonstrations and collecting an assortment of early American artifacts: tomahawks, powder horns, knives, keys, walking canes.
“I became very deeply involved,” Boyleston says, “and I got to know a lot of people with the best collections in the country.” Boyleston says the key to collecting the rarities is to keep your eyes open; besides auctions, he has found treasures at estate sales, antique shops or just look3 KNIVESing around online. His fi rst love, however, remains the Kentucky long rifl e. Trails: 2.3 miles A lot of what Boyleston has learned about designing and Locati on: Theodore building his own rifl es comes from observing the work of the 18th- and 19th-century masters — backwoodsmen with rudimentary tools but incredible skill. One such master was
Wiley G. Higgins, a gunmaker in Macon, Georgia. Born in 1799, Higgins is known for having made some of the most exquisite weapons of the time period, so it’s little surprise that a pistol credited to Higgins was discovered hidden away in the wallboards of Andrew Jackson’s home in Tennessee. Boyleston W BRECK PAPPAS • has owned two Higgins rifl es, including one which gives him strong reason to believe it, too, belonged to Andrew Jackson. “I just love the history,” Boyleston says. “When I think about how I have this long rifl e that belonged to Andrew Jackson, just down the road from Jackson’s Oak,” the Daphne tree where the general allegedly urged on his troops during the War of 1812. “I just think that’s incredible. And after 200 years, they’ve ended up so close to each other.” Above Boyleston holds one of the nearly 300 long rifl es he’s crafted.
PATCH KNIVES
Year: 1760
Size: 5 inches
Patch knives were a standard addition to a rifleman’s equipment. Usually hanging from a hunting pouch, the knives were used to cut patches — pieces of cloth or leather which were wrapped around the rifle ball to ensure a tight fit against the rifling in the barrel of the weapon. These particular knives, carved of black walnut, were made by Moravian gunsmiths in Winston Salem, North Carolina, and Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. It’s little surprise that the Moravians, part of an early sect of Christianity, chose the Christian symbol of a fish for their knives. Boyleston says these are three of only five such knives known in existence.
WILEY G. HIGGINS LONG RIFLE
Year: ca. 1820
Size: 60 inches
This exquisite Kentucky long rifle, made of curly maple, features a silver nameplate on top of the barrel, a telltale sign that it was made by master gunsmith Wiley G. Higgins of Macon, Georgia. More interesting still, that nameplate reads “Jackson.” Combine that with some of the gun’s other characteristics (such as its rare Damascus twist barrel, ornate silver etchings of Southern imagery, carved eagles), and it leads Boyleston to strongly believe this rifle belonged to President Andrew Jackson. In fact, Boyleston explains, Higgins served under Colonel Jackson in the Creek Indian Wars, and the pair remained friends later in life. This might explain the other engraved silver plate, which reads “CJ,” near the rifle’s breach. Higgins would’ve referred to the president as “Colonel Jackson.”
LAFAYETTE-INSCRIBED WALKING CANE
Year: ca. 1780
Length: 33 inches
This walking cane is made of two pieces of carved bone joined at the middle by a silver-plated copper band. The ivory knob is scrimshawed with the name Marquis de Lafayette, leading Boyleston to believe that the cane belonged to the French hero of the American Revolution himself. Signs of wear tell Boyleston this was an everyday walking cane for its owner. “The problem you have with a lot of old things today is people will find something that might not look great and then they ruin them trying to fix them up. So the rule is, don’t ever do any restoration. Leave it just like it came.” For many years, the cane descended through an old Philadelphia family who likely acquired it during Lafayette’s Grand Tour of the United States in 1824 - 1825. “I couldn’t believe it, but I was able to get it,” Boyleston says.
AN ARTFULLY MODERN MIX
text by MAGGIE LACEY • photos by ELIZABETH GELINEAU
AN ECLECTIC COLLECTION IN ONE FAIRHOPE HOME PROVES WELL-DESIGNED FURNITURE AND QUALITY ART ALWAYS STAND THE TEST OF TIME.
Left Amanda and Teddy Winstead have collected paintings, mid-century modern furniture and artful objects through the years, crafting an eclectic vibe that has carried them from residence to residence, state to state, but always feeling like home. Painting at left is by Fritz Bultman from 1967 entitled “The Wave.” Work at right is pastel on paper by Adja Yunkers entitled “Tarassa I” from 1957.
For Amanda Winstead, the old adage “if these walls could talk” would fit better with a slight variation: “if this décor could talk.” The fine art appraiser and broker has only lived in her Fairhope home for a year, but the furniture and art has traveled with her
through the decades. From a duplex on Bayou St. John in New Orleans, where she lived after graduate school at Tulane, to a stark 1960s modern abode in Birmingham designed by Fritz Woehle; from a 1910 Mediterranean in New Orleans’ University District to a new-construction home overlooking the 6th green of Lakewood Golf’s Azalea course in Point Clear. Each dwelling could not be more different, and yet the eclectic mix of antiques, mid-century modern pieces and Southern art that Winstead has carefully curated over the years somehow manage to coexist with one another and within the architecture of the moment. A mix that is chic, unexpected and uniquely hers.
Winstead grew up in New Jersey, right outside New York City, to a mother who was an interior designer and collector. Summers were spent rummaging through estate sales in upstate New York, where Winstead undoubtedly began to hone her eye. Her mother collected oak chest of drawers, hooked rugs and pottery jugs — a look that Winstead describes with a laugh as the 1980s summer aesthetic of New Yorkers — to later sell at their antique store located on a farm. “My sisters and I would go to auctions and help her acquire, which is how I got the bug for buying and for understanding what things were.”
When it came time for college, she wanted a city in the South and settled on Tulane. “All my family is from the South, so I don’t consider myself a Yankee. And this may sound silly, but when I stepped onto Tulane’s campus and smelled the sweet olive, I felt like I was home.”
She majored in art history and quickly secured an internship at Neal Auction House, New Orleans’ oldest and most respected auction house, which specializes in Southern paintings, furniture and decorative art. “My career path was pretty obvious,” she says of finding a home in the world of art and antiques. “I never had to scratch my head and think about it. I was lucky that way.”
Despite growing up going to auctions and estate sales with her mother, Neal Auction House opened Winstead’s eyes. “I really had limited knowledge when I got there. You think you know a lot until you are immersed in a rich material environment like an auction house where you are surrounded by thousands of objects that are coming in and going out and need to be cataloged and processed for sale.” Working at Neal, she explains, is how she truly learned the nuts and bolts of appraising and valuing. She was able to combine this experience with a bachelor’s degree in art history and a master’s in business to establish her own fine art appraisals business.
Her husband Teddy’s medical training (he is a gastroenterologist at Thomas Hospital in Fairhope) soon pulled the couple out of New Orleans to Birmingham for a while, which she describes as a blessing. “A year later Katrina happened, and we didn’t have to endure that.” But they soon returned to New Orleans and settled into life as doctor and art appraiser.
Throughout each move, however, her collected pieces traveled along. Her Fairhope dining room prominently features a French Provincial Louis XV onyx top sideboard that she purchased during her last year of graduate school. “It’s not anything that fantastic, but it has so much character. The marquetry inlay and onyx top are really rare.”
In front of it sits a traditional dining table and burgundy upholstered chairs. “Even in my stark modern house in Birmingham, I had that dining table and those chairs,” she remembers. “I love to mix the antiques and the modern. I don’t want things too traditional or too modern — but always with pops of color.”
This description perfectly describes her home office, where she still runs Amanda Winstead Fine Art between Alabama and Louisiana, with its flagrant pink walls and bold graphic rug. The riotous color is offset by an authentic mid-century burled wood and chrome desk — the kind designers are trying to knock off these days. Her office is stacked to the ceiling with art books, auction catalogs and files for work she is researching and appraising. She knows her stuff, and she knows what she likes.
She specializes in the art of the American South, which she says is a very particular niche for appraisers. She is an expert in the art of mid-20th-century New Orleans and especially loves to dig deep into the female artists of that time who have not yet been well-researched or represented.
And on her own walls? Whether its Ida Kolmeyer or Shearly Grode, she says the art has to have enough space around it to breathe. “But also don’t be afraid to put a painting above a painting. Sometimes you need that tension between paintings so they can kind of talk to each other. Ask yourself, how do the colors work together? How do they look across the room from each other?” What takes a deft touch, Winstead makes look incredibly easy.
When asked to boil her aesthetic down to the most essential idea, she simply says, “You always want the art to look good.”
Her art and décor certainly speak volumes. And if these walls could talk, the accent would for sure have a tinge of New Orleans to it. MB
Opposite Painting at left by Ida Kohlmeyer from 1965 entitled “Tangential No. 1.” Top by Fritz Bultman entitled “Zulu” from 1960. Underneath painting by Mildred Wohl entitled “Abstract Composition in Black, Red and Pink,” circa 1960. Far wall shows a
painting by Mildred Wohl entitled “Snow Black.”
SOUTHERN SPICE
Winstead serves her guests baconwrapped crackers with a side of Tabasco hot pepper jelly — a truly Southern combination! AMANDA’S PIMIENTO CHEESE
A crowd favorite, Winstead has begun keeping this recipe on her laptop ready to email since so many guests ask for it! 8 ounces sharp cheddar 4 ounces jalapeno cheddar or pepperjack 3 cloves garlic 1 (7-ounce) jar pimientos, drained 1/2 cup Duke’s light mayonnaise Shred cheese in food processor and place in mixing bowl. Put garlic through a press and add to bowl with pimientos and mayonnaise. Combine well. Tastes good right away but is even better after chilling overnight.
A CLASSIC TABLE JUST A DROP
CLEARLY SPECIAL
Winstead scattered her home with delightful pieces of art and objects of interest, like this Steuben crystal “snail” bowl. First introduced at the 1939 World’s Fair, this olive bowl and other modernist pieces became icons of mid-century modern design. The antique dinner table that has moved from house to house is set with Herend Queen Victoria dinner plates and matching serving pieces for seated meals at the Winstead home. Modern art and unexpected chandeliers keep the setup from feeling fussy. The tiniest details often make the biggest impact. Subtle drips of blue are encased in the stems of the blown glass wine goblets in Winstead’s china cabinet. (Intermezzo wine glasses by Orrefors)
Left: Fine art photographer Ann Solomon, a friend and neighbor in Lakewood, pours over art books with Winstead in her punchy home office. DUSTI BONGÉ
(Biloxi artist, 1903-1993) Winstead represented Dusti Bongé’s estate, which included over 1,000 works of art by Mississippi’s most accomplished abstract artist. Bongé’s prolific artistic career spanned more than 55 years. A decades-long relationship with influential New York Abstract Expressionist dealer Betty Parsons brought Bongé into a prominent arts circle that included Mark Rothko, Barnett Newman, Kenzo Akado and Theodoros Stamos. A retrospective of her work was mounted in 2019 at the Ogden Museum of Art in New Orleans and the Mississippi Museum of Art in Jackson in 2021. COASTAL VIBE
For her Fairhope house, Winstead embraced the proximity to water with Piero Fornasetti’s Acquario wallpaper by Cole & Sons. The vanity, trim and ceiling are appropriately painted Sherwin-Williams Raging Sea.
MODERN ICONS
Winstead gave her husband a vintage Eames lounge chair when he graduated from medical school. The classic silhouette was designed by Charles and Ray Eames for the Herman Miller furniture company in 1956.
