Exploring Whitney Fish
Article by Jimmi Bayer
Photography by Joel Stephens
Across the table from my current location, Whitney Fish sits silent, momentarily contemplating the various ways in which she could easily sabotage the whole interview process. She chooses not to.
Her long, beautiful hair and inviting eyes are in no way a representation of the thoughts brewing in her mind at any particular time. She’s not one for answering questions, but for an old friend, she’s always willing to do lunch… so much as you’re paying.
I’ve known Whitney for over a year now, but the secret to getting inside her head is realizing you never really know Whitney Fish, you only know what she wants you to know. You wouldn’t even know she was an artist unless you saw her paint stained hands, which today are an odd combination of green and red. As a young artist she defies all influence, forging a fresh, new style rooted in impulse and emotion. Her creativity is not limited to pencils, brushes and paints, as she frequently enjoys scribbling poetry in random sketchbooks, often times never sharing. Today she is very upbeat, smiling often and cracking jokes about our waiter’s accent.
So, you know you’re the first featured artist in The Easel.
I thought you were?
Nah, I was just on the cover last month.
Oh, yeah. I designed it. Well, you’ll get your chance.
How kind of you.
You get the impression from her laugh that she’s sincere.
Do I get any money for being featured?
I’m buying lunch.
Fair enough.
So where, would you say, most often, you find inspiration?
I don’t really. it tends to find me.
Must be nice.
Not always, sometimes I think he lost my address.
Who, inspiration?
Yeah, that bastard never returns my calls.
We are suddenly interrupted by a phone call. I gather from her conversation that it is Calvin, her long-time friend-with-benefits, sometime boyfriend. It is a firm belief of Whitney’s that her relationships at seventeen should not be too serious, a belief that all of the people in love with her agree with completely.
Call from Cal?
Yeah… I forgot to call him this morning.
Uh-huh. Poor thing (There is a pause). So… what’s next? You’re finally graduating. Where’s Whitney FIsh heading?
New College (The independent, public, liberal honors college for the state of Florida. New College allows each student to focus on topics of real interest to them, and degrees and honors are based on true mastery rather than credits and grades). In Sarasota.
You’re leaving me here alone?
You can make it, babe. Besides, you can come down and visit whenever.
WOOHOO!
It occurred to me that if the questions continued this way, not only would my article be insanely boring, but Whitney would seek other entertainment.
Too late.
Before I knew it we were running for the car; she had tipped the table and screamed “Judas!” at the waiter.
What the hell was that?
I’d rather see a movie.
It is times like these that remind me of what I love about Whitney Fish. Driving to the movie I asked various questions, none eliciting comprehehsible responses.
What movie do you want to see?
Does Depp have a new one out?
I’m sure he’s in at least one of the movies playing.
It was over Johnny Depp that Whitney and I had originally bonded. Discussing plans for a future love child between me and her (through Johnny Depp and Halle Berry) we shared Depp stories and laughed for hours. It had become a favorite pasttime of ours to discuss our future child’s destiny of changing the world, a future that just seemed to make perfect sense. It was also through these conversations that I found a genuine affection for young Whitney Fish. It was as if we were Siamese siblings, seperated at birth, each forging a path so similar yet very different. As any Jacksonville artist will tell you, it’s not easy to make it here artistically. Luckily for us, we came here just as the city was exploding, culturally and statistically. More and more people have moved to
Jacksonville in the past ten years than ever before, creating a melting pot of young artists. In a sense, Whitney is a microcosm of the city. Whitney moved here between two and three years ago, quickly finding her niche among the most creative students at Bartram Trail High School, ultimately becoming the Queen Bee of its fledgling art department and the President of the National Art Honors Society. And Ex-Head Editor of the Literary Magazine. And Art Editor for The Easel. As mentioned before, she loves to paint, draw, and write poetry. She also enjoys sculpture and photography. (See the cover of our last issue for her most notable snapshot :winkwink:)
Where do you think art is heading?
I’m not really sure. There are so many people doing their own thing right now.
Do you look to pursue an art-related career?
I would be nice. I want to. But I’d be starving; artists don’t make a lot of money. I’d probably have to hold a day job.
You would think that with the money professional athletes get paid to entertain people, artists would get paid well to express what people are feeling.
Wanna start a revolution?
Not today. Let’s see a Johnny Depp movie instead. The revolution can wait until tomorrow.Yeah, I suppose you’re right.
After the movie and a long, introspective drive home, we pause for a moment to chat before concluding the day’s events.
Well, that wasn’t so painful, was it?
What, when the guy got stabbed in the leg?
No, the “Interview with Whitney Fish.”
Oh, yeah… nah, not as bad as I expected. Did you get what you needed?
Honestly?
Yeah.
I didn’t get shit.
Well, that’s the way it goes. Call me tomorrow, I’ll be bored as usual… This town is so lame. Maybe we can start that revolution…
And with that, she opened her door, turned and smiled, then headed towards her house. I couldn’t help rolling down my window. “That’s not a very supportive thing to say. This town needs people like us.”
“Fuck this town.” she said, cracking that mischevious smile, “We never got along anyways.”
| <-The Art of Whitney |
