It's Monday night at Doe Bay Resort. Lori and I pull into the nearly empty gravel and dirt parking lot at 6 p.m. The sky is still light, the temperature is mild and we've arrived to have a light dinner before the start of the Artsmith Salon Series, a weekly get-together involving the literary community here on Orcas Island.
It's our first time attending one of these programs, though we've been here plenty of times before for Open Mic Pizza Night, a virtual grab bag of local musical performers.
Jennifer Brennock, the emcee for the night and someone I met last year during a writers' workshop she led), joins us for a quick bite and how-do-you conversation. She's an MFA student at Vermont's Goddard College, with both Oregon and California roots (Southern Oregon University, Saratoga High School), and worked briefly as a reporter for the island newspaper.
We bring an open mind to the program and leave feeling inspired, invigorated and even a little bit envious. If this is the qualtity of programming from week to week, boy, we're missing out on a lot that full-time islanders get to take in.
A local playwright named Bill Westlake reads two of his short stories -- both very well written with interesting narratives. During open mic, a guy named Carlos (at right) uncorks a wine bottle and pulls from it a scroll containing the short story he reads aloud. (He thought of the idea as a way to express his anti-Internet sentiments. How, he asked himself, could he formulate his story in such a way that it couldn't be replicated on the Web? Very creative.) Another guy recites a poem and a woman named Renee (sp?) reads three newly composed poems.
In between comes the program's highlight: a photographer and a writer from Lopez Island do a narrated slide show on their self-published book, "
Hands at Work." A simple enough concept -- to portray in images and words the beauty, the dignity, the passion of what people do with their hands to earn a livelihood -- and one done with obvious respect for each of the subjects in the book.
Iris Graville reads from the book's introduction, plus three or four essays in the book, as photographer
Summer Moon Scrivner projects a series of black-and-white images on the pull-down screen. Together, their words and photos convey the meaning and fulfillment -- and often a spiritual dimension -- that people find in their work. Some choices for the book are obvious: a physical therapist, a midwife, a baker, a weaver. Others, not so much: a vibraphonist, for instance.
What I enjoy most about their book and their presentation is knowing that every step in the process from idea to book is driven by integrity. The way they approach the subjects, reading each other's non-verbal cues during the interviews, editing the photos and words, framing and titling the book to give it a sharp focus -- all of this speaks to a coherent vision and an honest channeling of people's words and values.
I can't help but think of the contrast between a project like this, which involves so much human interaction, observation and engagement, and what we are subjected to nearly every day with the 24/7 news cycle, the me-me-me world of YouTube, the phoniness of "reality" shows and the shouting matches that pass for political talk shows.
As the clock turns to 9 o'clock, we get up to leave with nothing but good feelings about a great evening: A delicious seafood dinner, consumed at a table overlooking the water; a new friend in Jennifer; a pleasant introduction to the creative community on Orcas and Lopez islands; and a brand-new book, signed by Summer and Iris, to take back home to Portland before bringing it back up to rest on our coffee table at the Orcas cabin.
Photo: Photographer Summer Moon Scriven, left, and writer Iris Graville
Reader advisory: Coarse language below.
Hailey 
