Genius In A Glove And Anvil

Words cannot describe the sadness I feel inside at this moment. Several days after by birthday and in a week of inexplicable change we lost individuals of incredible talent and depth.

On Tuesday, one of the greatest artists of the 20th finally went on to do greater good in God's kingdom. Out of all the people lost this week the least one who received press coverage was Philip Simmons. Mr. Simmons, who passed away in his sleep at the age of 97 will be remembered as of of the greatest citizens the city of Charleston, SC ever raised. Listed as one of the greatest artists of the 20th century he grew up from humble beginnings to become a master blacksmith, crafting some of the most thought provoking and inspiring art pieces ever to grace the Holy City. If there is a gate on an Charleston home Philip Simmons crafted it. In his genius Philip Simmons remained a humble soul, becoming an ambassador for the city with in kind and gentle nature.

I remember as a boy when dad used to take me by his home and shop at 30 Blake St. The inside of where he worked was dark, with only the light of the hot fire giving pretense as to what he was creating, and the anvil, one of which now resides in the Avery Institute at the College of Charleston, where he used to take the hot iron, pounding and pounding on it with his hammer until he got it right. Little did I realize the genius he was creating with his work. We are lucky to have the genius of what he created in my parents home (see pics). But Philip Simmons was more than that, he brought people of different races, creeds and faiths together making us realize that we do share common hopes, dreams and desires. A man with no more than a sixth grade education who never let the lack thereof defeat his dream and purpose in life.

What else is there to be said about Michael Jackson, I'd just be repeating the obvious. The triumphs, tragedies and missteps, pale in comparison to the man himself. Always trying to get us to look within ourselves, accepting our shortcomings and overcoming them. An American Dream who was as simple as apple pie, but also a complex equation. Michael never was happy with himself or where he was in life. For him the four-letter word, life, was an open book for all to see even during the times he didn't want them to. For me, the Michael Jackson I take to me to my grave was the person Joan and I saw at the old Omni Coliseum in Atlanta, GA in 1988 during the Bad Tour. That night I saw an man in his realm , telling all who would listen that he was the greatest, bar none.

We also lost Ed McMahon and Farrah Fawcett and it would be a disservice to them if I leave them out, but it is Philip Simmons and Michael Jackson that will forever haunt my memory.

Photo

Open Gate created by Philip Simmons separating the living and dining room of my parents home in Mt. Pleasant SC (creation: late 1960s)

http://www.philipsimmons.us