Feast Your Eyes

FEAST YOUR EYES

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Feast Your Eyes

Lettering artist Marley Soden serves up food for font

By Cassie Bustamante   •   Portraits by Amy Freeman

Mustard, spices, jam, cookie crumbs, sprinkles, honey, espresso powder, candy corn. Not necessarily ingredients you want in the same dish, but, for Marley Soden, they’re main ingredients in her recipe for creativity. On TikTok (marley.makes.things), where she dishes out a vibrant and colorful feast for the eyes, she describes herself as a “Letterer, Muralist, & Food Artist.” Sometimes sweet, sometimes nutty and sometimes spicy, this tactile artist has got something to say.

Scrolling through her posts, you’ll spy a lemon meringue tart on a bright-yellow backdrop with a whisk and lemons, the words “Easy Peasy” spelled out in meringue plus lemon curd accents. Or picture a breakfast scene, complete with golden bagels, a dusting of flour, an open tub of cream cheese and a smeared butter knife with the words “You Are My” written in flour. Then, to one side, the word “Everything” is spelled (and spills) out from a jar of Trader Joe’s Everything But the Bagel Sesame Seasoning Blend. And that’s just a small sampling to whet the appetite.

Has she always played with food? “Growing up, I was artsy, for sure,” says the 31-year-old Greensboro native. “But in middle school and high school, I was more into the music scene.” In fact, Soden graduated from downtown’s Weaver Academy in 2012, where she focused on music production. But, when she arrived at UNCG as a freshman, she wasn’t sure what she wanted to study. She hopped from English major to media studies major, but still felt unsettled.

On a whim, Soden made a leap into design. “I didn’t think it through whatsoever. And, thank God, it just kind of worked out and I really liked it.” The design aspect, however, came much later in her studies — after drawing, sculpting and other “really basic bare-bones stuff.” Little by little, she discovered she had a real love and knack for lettering, a small niche in the graphic design world.

After graduating in 2016 with a Bachelor of Fine Arts in New Media and Design, Soden was hired as a graphic designer locally for Pace Communications. She discovered that she was not made for office life, but, she says, she’s “so, so grateful for those years because it taught me so much about how to work with companies and how social media in general works.” After freelancing a bit on the side, she decided to bet on herself, going all-in on being self-employed.

Soden anticipated more freelance branding work, and that’s exactly what she did during that first year on her own. In the meantime, she’d post her creative work on Instagram. And, in December 2019, she posted her first video to TikTok, which, at the time, allowed a little bit of a longer video format than Instagram. In 2020, thanks to COVID, which found more and more people engaging with others through social media, TikTok really exploded on to the scene. “I just happened to be in the right place at the right time,” says Soden, “and a lot of my art videos took off.”

The result? “I pivoted from doing branding and logo design to doing more DIY content and educational art content online.” Think YouTube tutorials, but shorter. “I’m just not great at long-form content. Short form is where I really hit my stride and I’m great at telling stories quickly.” Which, it seems, is not something everyone can do as well as she does. And something increasingly in demand. The proof is in the pudding: Almost 550,000 followers agree, eating her content right up. Plus, Soden notes, as an introvert, finding community online suited her just fine — she found unexpected joy in teaching. “In a perfect world, that’s what I’ll do forever,” she muses.

While most of her social media following is similarly aged to Soden, she says those who actually engage with her on her posts are often Boomers. “I love those people for it. Yes, always comment because it makes my day,” she quips with a grin.

As for Gen Z? The word “depersonalization” is what comes to mind in describing their interactions on her posts. “When they do comment, they’re not commenting to me. They’re commenting to other commenters.” Instead of talking to Soden, “They’ll talk about ‘her.’ And I’m like, ‘Her?’ Me?”

Nonetheless, her vibrant, eye-catching and whimsical posts get people talking. This English-major-turned-design-major puts her love for wordplay to use regularly. “The fun thing about lettering in general is that you can really inject your personality into it, and you can quite literally say what you want to say through it, through your art.” A favorite video of her own features “Pop It Like It’s Hot,” the first two words spelled in popcorn kernels and the last word in spicy seasoning. And, of course, the song it’s paired with: Snoop Dogg’s “Drop It Like It’s Hot.” To celebrate the one year mark of being self-employed, she spelled out “one” in rainbow sprinkles.

“I won’t pretend to have invented it,” says Soden of food lettering. Detroit-based illustrator Lauren Hom (Hom Sweet Hom) served as big inspiration for her from the beginning, but, Soden notes, “from there, my style just took on a life of its own.”

Thanks to Soden’s instinctive talent for connecting with her social media audience through creating quirky, whimsical art, brand deals started rolling in. She’s worked with companies such as Owala, Adobe, Michaels Stores, Café Appliances, Shake Shack, Digiornio, Russell Stover and Aerie. On her wish list? Twizzlers, Starburst or Skittles. “Anything that’s really bright and colorful and interesting texturally would be fun.”

Even though brand deals provide her with income, it’s the making — and teaching how to make — art that fills her cup. For instance, Soden brought many of her passions together in one project when she created an entire series based on podcasts — “I love food, and I love music, and I love podcasts.” For Armchair Expert, cherries and pistachios were used to create a story, with crushed pistachios spelling out the title. In that Instagram post, Soden writes that she chose cherry because: “get it? chairy?” In another post, Conan O’Brien Needs a Friend is written in apricot preserves and surrounded by scattering of almonds as well as apricot-and-almond buns (“because that hair is iconic”) and almonds.

Liquid, she notes, is especially hard to work with but produces a silky look she can’t get enough of. “The letters want to morph together,” notes Soden, so time is of the essence. And, the moment you start a project with any kind of liquid or sticky food, there’s no going back. “Once it’s down, it’s down for sure. Ask my countertops.”

To cut down on waste, every work of tactile art she creates has to have a meticulous plan, beginning with a sketch. Or, if she’s working with a client, a series of sketches. That’s followed by making stencils and, lastly, she’s ready to move on to making — and shooting — the final product. The outcome generally reflects her signature style, which she refers to as “organized chaos.”

In the end, from a creative arrangement of plates and “things toppled over,” order arises, with artist-to-the-beholder communication emerging.

Is it something AI could reproduce? Maybe, but Soden notes that there’s something lacking in AI. Sure, these days “it’s looking more and more realistic. Realistic isn’t necessarily good. I’m still missing that little piece of soul within it that you can’t really get from anything other than a real person.”

Any artist, of course, loves to explore on various mediums, from digitally in iPad screens all the way to broad-brush work on walls. You just may have spied Soden’s Mural work locally in Local Honey Salon, the former Borough Market & Bar, King’s BBQ in Archdale, Lash & Blade in Winston-Salem and Inkvictus Studios in Raleigh.

In fact, Soden’s most popular TikTok video, viewed 7.2 million times and growing, has nothing to do with lettering. Instead, in under one minute, she teaches viewers how to paint the perfect arch on their wall, ending by telling them, “Follow me for more artsy-fartsy stuff.”

Over the past six years as she’s experienced explosive growth on social media, the platforms themselves have evolved and changed. TikTok, for example, now allows for 10-minute videos. Plus, the algorithm itself changes constantly, treating its content creators to a virtual roller coaster ride. One day, your video could garner 100,000 views. The next, 3,000. “You just have to ride the wave and keep putting stuff out.”

Soden’s life behind the grid has changed, too. In 2021, she married Zach Hunt, a logistics analytics manager for Ralph Lauren, and, a couple years later, they welcomed a son. Soden anticipated that after just a short time off, she’d be working at home, baby by her side. “I had this naive idea in my head that I’m a freelancer, I can do both,” she muses. “I can watch my kid and, while he’s sleeping, then I’ll do some work.” Turns out, juggling that schedule “on top of just healing in general, learning to be a mom and having a serious sleep deprivation” was utterly exhausting. Soden found herself backing off work.

“The thing that people don’t think about when women take time off for maternity leave is that you’re not only sacrificing your income,” says Soden, “but you’re sacrificing that time that you would have spent advancing in your career.” Plus, being home with a baby and away from colleagues can, as any parent who has done it could tell you, feel lonely. After their son’s first birthday, she and Zach made the decision to put him in daycare so that she could have the time “to work and continue exploring.” Still, some days, she asks herself, “Am I doing the right thing?”

Parenting aside, stepping back onto the career path comes with its own challenges. “While you’ve pressed the pause button, you come back and everything is different,” she says. “The real world doesn’t wait for you.”

Indeed, there were no new freelance jobs, she admits, waiting for her to once again press play. So, even though Soden is adept, brilliant actually, at communicating via social media, she’s changing her approach, focusing on growing her business locally, weaving herself into Greensboro’s cultural fabric. Still, she says, “I would love to continue in social media in some way without it being my primary source of income.” The next step? Perhaps selling her art — from prints to possibly even coloring books — locally. “In general, I think people are seeking community right now because we’re all so isolated,” she says. A local presence just might be what helps her expand her net of communication, but her hope is she can regain a healthy foothold in social media once again.

On her plate currently, she’s scheming and dreaming about a just-for-fun Harry Styles-themed piece based on the song “Golden” and inspired by her toddler. “My son is his number one fan.” So far, her plans include “golden pancakes and golden syrup spelling out ‘You’re so golden’ on a big, yellow background.”

Artist. Foodie. Muralist. Letterer. It’s obvious that Soden’s creative juices will keep on spilling and spelling out — onto pancakes, onto screens, onto paper, onto walls and into the hungry hearts and minds of her community. 

The Preservationist and the Painter

THE PRESERVATIONIST AND THE PAINTER

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The Preservationist and the Painter

A marriage of opposites dances in the light on Magnolia

By Cynthia Adams

Photographs by John gessner

Preservationist Mike Cowhig was a longtime bachelor in his 50s living on Eugene Street in a Craftsman-style home when he met his wife, artist Denise Landi. He worked excessively, golfed occasionally and sometimes, she jokes, “held up the wall” at the original Rhino Club downtown, which recently reopened.

Formerly married with two young girls and a boy, Landi studied art history at Carolina. Over a 40-year career, she has dramatically incorporated her personal history, memories and fragments of dreams into paintings.

Art was a consuming passion for her; community planning, history and preservation were his.

The couple dated for two years before deciding to marry but were torn between her recently acquired house on Magnolia and Cowhig’s bachelor bungalow.

Magnolia Street won. His impression when he first toured the house? Smitten.

“I love this house,” admits Cowhig, a longtime community planner for the City of Greensboro.   

“I’m glad we decided here,” he adds, “although I loved the house on Eugene.”

They were married in the backyard of the house in 2004, a year after Landi purchased the Colonial Revival. Neighbor Nicole Crews hosted a wedding reception, and the celebration continued afterward at local hangout Fishers Grille. (A gate in her back fence, Cowhig explains, then conveniently opened to the backside of the bar.) 

The wedding party and guests merrily trooped through the house, out the gate and into Fishers, he remembers. The bride hired a new local band called Beaconwood for the occasion.

“Beaconwood played bluegrass and other types of music and were fantastic!” Cowhig adds. Fast forward 15 years after their raucous musical wedding party at Fishers Grille. 

“Steve Robertson, a local attorney, moved into a house on Leftwich Street very close by,” says Cowhig. His son Eric Robertson founded Beaconwood while in high school. Their members now played on a world stage with artists like Rhiannon Giddens and Steve Martin.

If Beaconwood set the tone for a mellow relationship, not every note played smoothly in the early phases of marriage. Initially, while planning an addition to the rear of the two-story clapboard back on Magnolia, the new family of five squeezed into Cowhig’s bachelor pad at 923 N. Eugene St., the three young children “bunking in one room.” It was a madcap jumble of Barbies and G. I. Joes. Landi’s youngest daughter was still a toddler.

“I think he fell in love with my kids. And he liked me, too, you know?” Landi says with a twinkle.

“Our contractor did that thing where they get close to completion and then they move on,” Cowhig recalls. “Denise read them the Riot Act. I was glad — she had every right. She let them know she was not happy.” After that, the addition came together.

Cowhig was naturally interested in the particulars, being a walking compendium of Greensboro’s original neighborhoods. Living in Fisher Park, designated as a historic district in 1982, was a form of work immersion for Cowhig. 

Early in his professional life, he assisted in gathering supportive evidence for the district, inventorying the neighborhood’s original layout and structures. Cowhig worked on the creation of Greensboro’s three historic districts, now including Dunleath and College Hill.

Consider the context: When the Schoonover house was built, Fisher Park was evolving as Greensboro’s first suburb, featuring a variety of architectural styles and opulent mansions on a section of North Elm Street dubbed the “gold coast.” Iconic churches nearby — Holy Trinity Episcopal (built in 1922), the imposing gothic First Presbyterian (built in 1928) and Temple Emanuel (built in 1922) — all sprang up in that period.

But even an expert can be thrown off by clues contained within an old house. Just how old was it?

He discovered a piece of children’s homework dated 1912 “so I assumed it was built around 1911–12.” But further research placed the house as being built later, in 1921, for physician Robert A. Schoonover. So much for circumstantial evidence. The doctor kept an office nearby on South Elm Street, mentioned in the 1925 edition of Hill’s Greensboro Directory.

As pleasant as the attributes of a century-old home may be — nicely sized rooms, original windows and two working fireplaces — the historic record matters less than evidence of a family thriving here.

Their children’s heights are not just marked but colorfully illustrated (by the hand of a painter mother) inside a doorway into the kitchen. Cowhig and Landi planted roots in a neighborhood, not merely a house. A walkable, convivial area where neighbors know their neighbors. 

Fred Rogers would have been pleased.

Whereas Cowhig is a man of measured speech and action, the woman of the house is a dynamo of color and vitality. 

She laces a hot coffee with creamer and immediately takes a bold drink — no cautious sipping first. Landi bristles with energy even without caffeine but pauses long enough to enjoy her coffee in a kitchen shot full of life and light. An adjacent butler’s pantry with original cabinetry creates a conduit to the dining room. 

As you might expect in the home of an artist, furnishings and clutter are deliberately edited to allow artwork to take center stage.

Generous molding, handsome mantels, built-in bookcases (which they supplemented with more during the building of the addition) and French doors separating the living room, den and the dining room up the charm factor. With ample wall space painted in pale tones, Landi’s art serves as the chief source of color — she is a prodigious artist who sometimes produces multiple works in a single week. Their home is a perfect showcase for it.

After ridding the house of aluminum siding long ago, its original, albeit in need of a refresh, beauty emerged.

Tax credits were instrumental in being able to afford a historically accurate rehabilitation: “We used North Carolina historic tax credits, which was 30% at that time,” Cowhig recalls. “That credit really made the difference for us.” Once the siding was banished, Landi chose new exterior colors, bolder than the original white found beneath the siding. 

“It’s a house that was built without a front portico, [but] which has a nice classical roof and columns, and a nice, screened side porch,” Cowhig says.

Landi again mentions that every room has good light, something deeply valued by one whose work depends upon it. 

Given her artistic focus, it is surprising that it was not her original career plan. “I was going to Carolina intending to become a journalist” before that notion ground to a halt once there. “I couldn’t type,” she says with a rueful shake of her head.

“I never learned to type!” she repeats with incredulity. Her mother, who studied fashion at Parsons School of Design in New York, strongly discouraged her daughter from wasting time on pedestrian skills. 

Landi changed her major to art history. Following her degree, she began seriously studying painting. She completed an M.F.A. in Florence, Italy, at the Dominican University, devoting two years to the Italian Renaissance. 

Initially, the idea of becoming an artist seemed “just too easy.” 

“My very first words were ‘pretty light.’ I did not say mama, hi, daddy, anything. And it was at my grandmother’s chandelier,” says Landi. No coincidence, then, that her first show at The Marshall Muse Gallery this year was titled “Categories of Light”. 

Landi’s largest work there? Chandelier (Southern Lights).

The inspiration for that painting is the dining room’s Italian chandelier, which features a light-refracting, antique, Venetian mirror found at Carriage House.

On the same brusque, wintry morning that Landi meets to discuss the house, Cowhig pops over to his old office in City Hall where he began working in 1975. He is technically retired yet still putting in a few hours weekly with a South Benbow project. In fact, he shared recognition with two others for a Voices of the City Award last November for contributions to that work. 

Bert VanderVeen, a volunteer member of the Historic Preservation Commission, or HPC, first met Cowhig 25 years ago.

“What do you say about Mike, who is and does so much?” asks VanderVeen. “One of my first calls in 2001 was to the city planning department when I bought a historic house in Dunleath and needed a COA [certificate of appropriateness] to make repairs.”

VanderVeen has seen firsthand how Cowhig works tirelessly to bring about preservation, as in the case of the newly developing South Benbow district, the first of its designation in the state. “He can shepherd you to a solution. One thing that struck me on the commission was that even when we did not agree completely, Mike would get us there.”

When historic buildings could not be saved, Cowhig advocated for an architectural salvage program benefiting Blandwood, the historic Governor Moorehead mansion. He rallied and worked alongside volunteers to salvage slate tiles from my own Latham Park home a few years ago.

His retirement is keenly felt.

“I really miss working with Mike both on the Greensboro commission and at Architectural Salvage [ASG],” says Commissioner Katherine Rowe, who lives in Sunset Hills. “Salvage volunteers felt lucky to learn from Mike. He has a deep knowledge of Greensboro’s history and neighborhoods.” 

She fondly remembers doing pickups with Mike. “We’d rumble around town in the rattly Architectural Salvage van, picking up six-panel doors in Fisher Park or prying out house parts in an abandoned home way out in the country,” she recalls. “We’d gather doorknobs and butterfly hinges to sell back at ASG.” 

He recruited Landi to help with a pickup in his absence. “To her credit, Denise very cheerfully helped me load it in the white van,” says Rowe. “We had never even met!”

“I love history just as much as he does,” Landi adds. “And houses.”

Her aunt lived in a Tarboro antebellum house, one Landi stayed in and admired. She also visited her godparent in Toronto during the summer, whose grand home was furnished with antiques. She mentions granular details right down to the home’s fine marble doorknobs. 

Her husband is “a man whose life has been about helping save old houses,” she notes. “I love the way Mike . . .” Landi stops, searching for the right phrase. Then she brushes the air with her hand. 

“OK, here is the problem. In the same way that we love them spiritually, sometimes we forget to love them physically.” 

She adds meaningfully, “I can be messy.”

Placing her coffee cup on the kitchen table, Landi gesticulates, trying to describe their relationship. Her father was Italian, she explains, so she requires both hands when passionate. 

She borrows a visual from something she read of a slow-moving person holding a balloon which pulls him along. “And that’s kind of like me and Mike. Mike keeps me from flying off too far. I can see that.”

Her expressive face opens with a smile. She, in turn, helps to prevent her husband, a quietly sanguine man, from being overly cautious. Even if she might veer and “pull him over the rocks.”

“She’s the real deal when it comes to her artwork,” he says about his wife. “The painting, the artwork is what gives her energy. She will wake up, cannot sleep, and she gets up and starts painting.” The next morning, he finds she has created something remarkable. 

Landi spontaneously offers a full tour while searching for a misplaced phone. Wherever the eye lands, there is a point of beauty: a vintage Empire-style dress she recently wore to a Jane Austen birthday celebration hanging in a bedroom, an antique Italian tile hung on the wall like an icon. 

“Actually, it is an icon,” she decides.

She scans the foyer, elegantly spare with a center painted table, leading to the side porch where she often works.

When painting outside, she says, “I feel expanded and unfettered. I sometimes put paintings on the fence and go at it.”

Landi then weaves through private rooms downstairs, to the addition at the back, which created office space, bathrooms and bedrooms. Looping back into the original portion of the house, she proceeds upstairs to the bedrooms where she reclaimed a vacated bedroom as a studio.

Scribbled notes and elaborate, artful doodles paper the studio walls. 

“This was my son’s room for a long time,” she explains. Her visual process involves prompts from writing, she explains.

“I write a lot and also write things on the wall.” She traces notes made, recalling the vagaries of mind and process.

There is a striking variety of visual approaches: sometimes pastel, ghostly abstractions, sometimes vividly bold black-and-white charcoals. Some of the large-scale, acrylic paintings hung throughout the hallways and rooms of the house are already sold and awaiting shipment.

Landi has shown at the GreenHill Center for NC Art and the Center for Visual Artists. Her figurative paintings hang in permanent collections at Moses Cone Hospital, Schiffman’s Jewelers and Blue Denim restaurant.

Her work has common denominators, she stresses: light and spirit. 

Larry Richardson, a family friend for decades, speaks to this. 

“Denise does not see the world as you or I do,” he says. “She sees things in spiritual terms.” He describes how her work is sometimes overtly feminine, or dark and masculine.

“She isn’t just painting what she sees,” he explains. “She paints the energy.” 

Florence opened Landi’s eyes to a new way of seeing and working. It was, she says, spiritual. “When I would paint scenes, I would paint spirits.”

“There was a small river, and I saw the whole town (of Florence) as a heart. And then I saw that river as . . . this artery.”

Phone found, she returns to the kitchen and produces a vintage family portrait. Her Italian father, with Mediterranean coloring and effusive, ebullient personality, is a contrast to her mother, a serene, ladylike blonde with pale eyes. A woman of great composure.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” she asks. “Like Grace Kelly. A classic, Hitchcock beauty.” 

There is no mistaking that Landi’s parents’ union, like her own, was a marriage of complementary opposites.

Cowhig will be home at any time, she expects. He is happiest, Landi notes, when holding the new grandbaby, Wolfie, soon to be a year old.

He is delighted when grandchildren visit, calling out “Michael!” and heading straight to his office, where they find him keeping a hand in historic projects. By his reckoning, Greensboro’s oldest structures are art of a different kind.

She rests the family picture against a colorful, flower-filled pottery vase by a dish of lemons on the rustic table. An instant composition. 

One worthy of her hand

Any Way You Slice It

ANY WAY YOU SLICE IT

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Any Way You Slice It

Pi Day, you say? We couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate than by stuffing ourselves silly with a local sampling.

By David Claude Bailey   •   Photographs by Amy Freeman

What is it about pies? “I suspect that people feel a sense of tradition and simple goodness when eating pie,” says Maxie B’s owner, Robin Davis, who was featured in a 2012 Southern Living best-cakes-in-the-South article. Robin also knows a little something about pies. Chocolate chess, pecan, coconut custard, coconut cream, chocolate cream, lemon meringue, cherry, blueberry, peach, blackberry, sweet potato, pumpkin — 40 in all, seasonally available. “They are a little lighter than cake since they do not have icing.” Almost healthy, eh?

And then she adds, “Mostly, I think eating pie is just a comforting experience.”

Amen.

Robin is just one of a wealth of seasoned pie-o-neers who have made Greensboro, at least in our view, pie central.

Grab a fork and dig into one of my own favorite comfort foods. We know we’ve missed some of our favorites and your favorites, but there are only so many notches in our belt and these six slices were pushing its limit.

THE PIE HOLE: Maxie B’s

If you’re not able to visit a pâtisserie any time soon, Maxie B’s interior comes pretty close to transporting you à Paris. How many other bakeries feature chandeliers, tufted banquettes, plump, comfy couches and a private, hideaway booth for intimate gatherings? Or, naturellement, snag a seat at the sidewalk café in front and order a café au lait and, of course, a piece of good ol’ American pie.

THE PIE: Chocolate chess

THE LOWDOWN: While the butter in the hand-made, rolled-daily crust hails from Europe, not to worry: the pastry flour is from North Carolina. The only other ingredients are a little sugar, some salt, some vinegar, ice water and TLC. The filling ingredients are equally simple — Swiss chocolate, butter, local cage-free eggs, vanilla, sugar and salt. The cacao beans? From Ghana.

MY TAKEAWAY: Forget Frenchified soufflé au chocolat or chocolate mousse. Sit down to a Southern favorite that dates back to Martha Washington — chess pie. This version is intense, dominated by a jolt of chocolate that dances all over your tongue. The crust is textbook, so rich and flaky you look forward to attacking what’s sometimes left uneaten on other pies — the crust’s shoulder.

MOST POPULAR PIE: Chocolate chess, of course

THE PIE MAKER: Robin Davis, the owner of Maxie B’s (named after pugs Max and Bitterman), never meant to run a cake shop. It was her late husband, Lewis, a workout fanatic, who in 2002 urged her to, please, stop filling the house and kitchen with tempting cakes. So she moved her baking operation to the yogurt shop she was running. While pregnant, she craved a devil’s food cake like the ones she remembered from family reunions. The rest, like our slice of her pie, is history. Two articles in Southern Living brought, quite literally, busloads of people to try this devil’s (and angel) food, and, as business boomed, Robin’s shop expanded, gobbling up two adjacent storefronts. The devil’s food cake is still available, along with red velvet, hummingbird, coconut, caramel and dozens of others.

THE INSIDE SCOOP: Pies featured year-round include chocolate chess, pecan, coconut custard (and cream) and chocolate cream. Seasonally, expect lemon meringue and cherry, plus, when available, fruit pies with local, freshly picked produce, including blackberry pies (stuffed with Climax Creek Homestead berries) and sweet potato pies (with taters from Faucette Farms in Brown Summit).

2403 Battleground Ave., Greensboro
336-288-9811, maxieb.com

THE PIE HOLE: Delicious Bakery

Sit down to your pie in Delicious’ new, light, bright and airy venue on Battleground. The dining area is spacious, affording privacy if you want to share the latest crumb of gossip (or pie) with a confidante. Or seek out a nook where you, your laptop and an espresso can get some work done — or eat as much pie as you want away from prying eyes.

OUR SLICE: Lemon meringue

THE LOWDOWN: The crust is hand-rolled, butter-based and made from scratch. The filling, made from egg yolks, sugar, butter, lemon juice and zest, is thickened with corn starch. A stunning swirl of meringue made from egg whites, sugar and vanilla is torched to a golden brown finish.

MY TAKEAWAY: It seemed a shame to take a knife to the towering, mile-high meringue, but, when I did, the aroma of fresh-sliced lemons permeated the air. The filling bristled with a sweet-and-sour tang while the meringue provided a great
balance to its tartness, not too rich or sweet. The pre-baked crust served as a tasty vessel — and not over-baked. Here’s a dessert that’s a classic for a good reason.

BEST SELLER: Chocolate chess

THE PIE MAKERS: Owner Mary Reid, as much an artist as a baker, got things going in her home kitchen in 2004, whipping up and decorating cakes for neighbors and friends. She soon opened a storefront and then a sit-down location with Lori Loftis, her sister and a pie enthusiast, who has dipped her spoon in and out of the business for the last 20 years.

THE INSIDE SCOOP: As a full-service bakery with seasonal offerings including cakes, cupcakes, cheesecakes, cookies, brownies and breakfast pastries, it’s become a really popular meet-and-eat spot. My only battle in this space that once housed Burger Warfare is which pie to order.

1209 Battleground Ave., Greensboro
336-282-1377  |  336-288-3657  |  delicious-cakes.com

THE PIE HOLE: Gardener Bob Homestead Kitchen

A modest storefront with a few tables on the sidewalk out front, Bob’s spot has a sort of alternative, organic vibe, just like Gardener Bob.

OUR SLICE: Pecan

THE LOWDOWN: The crust is homemade with King Arthur’s wheat-and-barley flour, water, salt and butter. The custard filling, baked in the pie, is a confection of sweet-cream butter, flour, evaporated milk and brown sugar — no high-fructose corn syrup. 

MY TAKEAWAY: A variant on your traditional Southern pecan pie, Bob’s version is a three-part harmony beginning with sort of a praline topping that crinkles up across the top and is good enough to pick off and eat like candy. The filling is a caramelly melody of pecans, butter and brown sugar with a grace note of vanilla. The fairly thin crust is a cracker sponge that I used to sop up the syrup that spilled across my pie plate.

BEST SELLER: Pecan

THE PIE MAKER: Working in kitchens since attending culinary school as a teen, Robert (please call him Bob) Thomas has cooked for a living all his life, including three years as a baker. He’s always had a soft spot for making desserts. Recovering from alcohol and heroin addiction at 33, Bob was surprised that he continued to be plagued by digestive issues. Determined to leave preservatives, dyes, chemicals, artificial ingredients and processed foods behind, Bob gardened, baked, fermented and cooked his way to better gut health. In 2021, he began selling his goods in farmers markets, along with his home-grown vegetables. He opened his Spring Garden storefront in November 2023.

THE INSIDE SCOOP: Determined to share his journey to good health with both advice and merch, Bob specializes in foods that promote good gut health — sourdough bread, all things fermented — from sauerkraut to pickles, kimchi to kombucha — along with baked goods (some gluten-free) and, of course, pies of every ilk.

2823 Spring Garden St., Greensboro
743-222-3933  |  gardenerbob.com

THE PIE HOLE: POUND by Legacy Cakes

THE PIE: Key lime cream

THE LOWDOWN: The recipe, passed down from her mother, Margaret S. Gladney, is a bit of a family secret, but Margaret Elaine, who is, of course, named after her mom, did reveal that it’s whipped, not cooked, and the filling involves sweetened condense milk. And she, naturally, uses those itty-bitty key limes, organic please.

MY TAKEAWAY: Unlike heavier key lime pie filling, cooked with egg yolks and condensed milk, Margaret’s filling is light and creamy, almost fluffy, with a subtle, not citrusy balance of sweet and sour. (It’s so good that, if left unattended on a table top, swipe marks from family fingers inevitably appear!) Playing against the tart filling, the golden graham-cracker crust is a neutral palate with scrumptious, crunchy crumbles around the pie’s edge.

MOST POPULAR PIE: Key lime cream

THE PIE MAKER: Margaret says her Key lime pie is a spin-off of the one her mother would make, along with the famous lemon pound cake her mom baked for revivals at the 120-year-old Goshen United Methodist Church. As the youngest of 13 children, Margaret recalls her momma telling her to tiptoe across the kitchen floor so the cake wouldn’t fall. If lucky, she’d get to be the one to lick the bowl and beaters — or scoop up some crumbs that might have stuck to the pan. Margaret prides herself on incorporating her passion for science, chemistry, home economics, fashion and interior design into a legacy her mother would have been proud of.

THE INSIDE SCOOP: Other pies featuring her mother’s recipes include lemon cream pie, million dollar cream pie, pecan pie and sweet potato pie. But Margaret says her real specialty is baked-fresh-daily, hot-from-the-oven pound cakes in 150 varieties, some traditional made from 100-year-old recipes, others with a more contemporary twist, like her banana pudding pound cake or her sweet potato pound cake. There’s even a bubble gum pound cake available on special request.

3008 Spring Garden St., Greensboro 336-383-6957  |  facebook.com/POUNDbyLegacyCakesInc

Second location
1620 Battleground Ave., Greensboro
336-383-6957

THE PIE HOLE: The Cherry Pit Cafe & Pie Shop

Walk into pie central and prepare to get a face full of pies and a friendly greeting from a waitstaff wearing cherry-red pie T-shirts. The walls are covered with pie slogans, pictures of pies and pie-making implements. And why not? Owner Brian Cotrone (along with his wife and business partner, April Douglas) estimates they have sold over 100,000 pies since opening July 1, 2013. The decor is cheery and modern, with bright-red upholstered banquettes and fast-casual service where your food is delivered to your table after you order at the counter.

OUR SLICE: Cherry lattice

THE LOWDOWN: This pie, made in-house from scratch like all their pies, is all about the filling, chock full of Michigan cherries. It is cooked in a steam kettle to assure the proper thickness and balance of sweet and sour. The homemade pie dough is latticed across the top, six vertical, six horizontal, and then coated with an egg wash to achieve a toasted-brown sheen.

MY TAKEAWAY: The cherries are the money in this pie, plump and piled high, with a gloriously gooey and addictive binding. The shell and the lattice are slightly sweet, balancing the tartness of the cherries. And since sour cherries are packed with melatonin and tryptophan, we’re totally convinced that cherry pie is good for you.

BEST SELLER: Pecan

THE PIE MAKERS: Twenty-five years ago, Brian, a corporate restaurant supervisor, and April, a restaurant general manager, met in Las Vegas. There, they ended up running a restaurant with a heavy pie focus. In July 2013, they launched their own pie-centric concept in Greensboro.

THE INSIDE SCOOP: Yes, they sell 10,000 pies a year, including a savory chicken pot pie, but The Cherry Pit Cafe also offers breakfast, lunch and dinner seven days a week for those of you who don’t think pie is a main course.

11 B Pisgah Church Rd, Greensboro
336-617-3249  |  cherrypitcafe.com

THE PIE HOLE: Dessert Du Jour

Catch Wendy Dodson and her Dessert Du Jour tent almost any Saturday it’s not raining or snowing along the back row of The Corner Farmers Market. The market, located at the corner of West Market and Kensington in the St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church parking lot, is open from 8 a.m. until noon Saturdays year round.

OUR SLICE: Apple crumb

THE LOWDOWN: Granny Smith apples are dusted with flour and sugar and then oven-roasted. Next? Brown sugar, spices and a whole stick — in bits — of butter. Once mixed and cooled, it goes into her handmade crust. Hand mixing the dough allows little globs of high-fat (Plugra) butter to melt and puff up during baking, similar to a croissant. Lastly, the crispy crumb layer, made of sugar, spices, flour and, you guessed it, more butter, tops it all.

MY TAKEAWAY: As my first bite, loaded with each layer — crust, apple filling and crumb — neared my own pie hole, my nose twitched, triggered by the smell of cinnamon-kissed apples and toasty, brown butter. Moist and tender, the caramelized apples are perfectly paired with the golden, flaky crust, resulting in a palate-pleasing balance of sweet and salty. And, for me, the cherry on top was the satisfying crunch of the golden crumb topping, of which, well, I left no crumbs.

BEST SELLER: Husband and O.Henry magazine founder Jim Dodson insists her chocolate chess pie is so decadent you’ll end up licking your fork clean.

THE PIE MAKER: As a child, owner Wendy Dodson spent two weeks of every summer at her grandmother’s house. There, she learned the art of baking and making the perfect pie crust. Dessert Du Jour came into full fruition following COVID. Retiring from her HR job, Wendy put all her eggs into her baked-goods basket. Dessert Du Jour celebrates five years in business this month.

GOOD TO KNOW: Wendy offers market pre-orders so you can sleep in on a Saturday morning and rest assured that your pre-ordered pie, cookies or cake will be waiting for you until at least noon at the market.  OH

The Corner Farmers Market, 2105 W. Market St., Greensboro 910-585-2584  |  dessertdujour.net

Poem March 2026

Poem

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Poem

Julian

In christening gown and bonnet,

he is white and stoic as the moon,

unflinching as the sun burns

through yellow puffs of pine

pollen gathered at his crown

while I pour onto his forehead

from a tiny blue Chinese rice cup

holy water blessed

by John Paul II himself

and say, “I baptize you, Julian Joseph,

in the name of the Father, and of the Son,

and of the Holy Spirit.”

Nor does he stir when the monarchs

and swallowtails,

in ecclesiastical vestments,

lift from the purple brushes

of the butterfly bush

and light upon him.

  — Joseph Bathanti

White House Drawing Room

WHITE HOUSE DRAWING ROOM

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White House Drawing Room

John Hutton says he can teach anyone to draw U.S. presidents and first ladies. We put him to the test.

By Maria Johnson

Photographs by Mark Wagoner

A Friday afternoon.

A few cans of seltzer water.

A half dozen No. 2 pencils.

A projector.

A teacher who knows what he’s doing.

And a half dozen good-humored students.

Welcome to art class, O.Henry style.

Recently, we drafted a sketchy crew, in the best sense, to mosey over to the magazine’s office in Greensboro’s Revolution Mill.

Our recruits accepted the invitation — OK, it was more of a plea sweetened by the promise of snacks — to test the skills of John Hutton, a professor of art history at Salem College in Winton-Salem.

Hutton claims that he can teach anyone to draw a U.S. president or first lady, and he’s willing to put his executive powers on the line, with good reason.

Last year, his book, aptly named How to Draw U.S. Presidents and First Ladies, was published by the White House Historical Association and won the 2025 American Book Fest Book Award for Best Children’s Novelty and Gift Book.

The workbook gives step-by-step instructions for rendering the 45 men who have served as president.

The book also depicts 47 women — most of whom were actually married to a POTUS.

Two presidents — Woodrow Wilson and John Tyler — were widowed and remarried while in office. They’re shown with two wives each.

One prez, James Buchanan, was a lifelong bachelor. His niece, Harriet Lane, served as the de facto first lady, socially speaking, so she graces Hutton’s pages just as she graced 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

Back to art class. On the day we gather, Hutton is full of fun facts for our students, who are friends and office neighbors of the magazine.

Participants include State Farm Insurance agents Margo and Archie Herring; Susan Sinnott, office manager of Alem Dickey Keel Interior Design; Pam Garner, president of Triad Sales & Recruiting Solutions; Harsha Mirchandani, development director for College Pathways of the Triad; and Moe Miles, who, with his wife Autumn, owns and operates Greenlove Coffee.

As they arrive, everyone wants to make one thing clear: In no way does their drawing ability reflect their professional prowess.

1Notch a “V” just below the second horizontal line on the grid, he tells them. That’s the tip of the nose.

Add flared nostrils and keep your pencils moving upward.

This brings you to the eyes, which land smack dab on the first horizontal line. Start simply: dot, dot. Brows undulate above that.

Now, drop down to the mouth. Abe’s lips fall just above the bottom line.

At this point, the faces on everyone’s papers — as well as the image that Hutton projects on the wall — bear no resemblance to Abe.

The magic happens when Hutton instructs his pupils to add high cheek bones — “question marks,” he calls them — and the sidelines of a lean face.

Suddenly, six Abes emerge.

And so do astonished smiles on the faces of our of budding artists.

They can draw.

The mood loosens as Hutton guides them through Abe’s wrinkles.

Obviously, Abe lived preplastic-surgery era, several people observe. His elevens — worry lines between his eyebrows — also indicate that the late unpleasantness might have been even more unpleasant, cosmetically speaking, owing to the absence of Botox.

A few lines later, Abe’s face is fully fleshed out with his wavy hair, large ears and real-deal bow tie. No clips-ons for No. 16.

He looks fit for a play-money penny in each of the students’ drawings.

“Everybody does it a little bit differently,” says Hutton.

Except for Margo and Archie’s Abes. They’re essentially twins.

What is it they say about married couples? After a while, their drawings of Abe Lincoln start to look alike?

Chitchat flows between our newborn Picassos as Hutton brings up the second subject of the day:

Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, the wife and later widow of John F. Kennedy. She also founded the White House Historical Association.

There’s another piece of trivia worth preserving.

In sharp contrast to Lincoln, Jackie was a style maker, setting fashion standards with her bouffant hairdo, flip curls and pearl chokers.

Hutton flashes his example on the wall and instructs his students to start again with the nose.

“She has a broad nose, but not as broad as Abraham’s,” he says. “Her eyes are going to be well below the eye-line. They’re fairly wide set, much more than ordinary.”

Jackie’s lips, he points out, are rather full, and her mouth turns up slightly at the corners.

“That’s what makes her look friendly,” he says.

By this time, our students are getting friendly with each other.

“Do you need an eraser?” Harsha asks Susan.

“You don’t have any left,” Susan teases back.

They speculate about whether Jackie’s lips were plumped by filler.

When Susan draws one of Jackie’s bob earrings next to her jaw, Harsha joshes that it looks like a cyst: “She’s got to get that thing drained!”

Pam texts her husband to ask what he’s doing at work. She sends him pics of her sketches to flaunt her fun.

Moe is so impressed with his work that he considers adding it to the Greenlove menu.

Next to a decaf Lincoln latte perhaps? A caramel Jack-iat-O.?

These reluctant creatives — who initially wanted to leave their names off their papers for fear of being ridiculed — now want to show off their works.

“I have skills!” marvels Archie, looking at his handiwork.

Margo asks Hutton if he’s ever met an unteachable student.

Every ounce the teacher, Hutton refuses to say yes.

Learning is a process, he says, and the important thing is to stay at the process.

“I try to help them do it better,” he says.

In the end, the class gives Hutton thumbs-up on his teaching ability.

“I think your method is highly effective, the way you break it down,” says Harsha.

Class is dismissed and everyone leaves clutching sketches worthy of the White House — refrigerator. 

Well, Hello, Dolley!

Try your hand at drawing Greensboro’s
own Dolley Madison

She was the OG of FLs.

Before anyone called the first ladies “first ladies,” Dolley Todd Madison, who spent her babyhood in what’s now Greensboro, shaped what people would later regard as the role of a first lady.

She was married to James Madison, who would become the country’s fourth POTUS, but before that, she handled the White House social life of their friend, Thomas Jefferson, whose wife had died before he assumed office as the third U.S. president.

Dolley, who famously threw small parties called “squeezes” — think what you will — was known as the D.C. hostess with the most-est, which is probably why the Hostess snack cake company once had a line of Dolly (with no “e”) Madison baked goods.

Raise your hand if you remember raspberry Zingers.

Anyhoo, Dolley was on-point, stylistically, and more than a little rebellious for her time.

She made turbans with tassels a thing.

She dipped snuff.

She also turned the White House into a veritable Baskin-Robbins on the Potomac, generously dishing out the frozen confection that Thomas Jefferson, a former ambassador to France, first introduced to the White House as a taste of continental culture.

Let’s face it: if Dolley were around today, the girl probably would be pierced and tatted, though maybe not for her official portrait.

Which brings us to an actual portrait of Ms. Madison. Because no one posted pics — or even took pics — back in Dolley’s day, paintings are the only way we have of knowing what she looked like.

If you want to try John Hutton’s method for yourself, pick up some colored pencils and use the grid we’ve provided to create your own version of DM. Feel free to take some creative liberties and send your best sketch to cassie@ohenrymag.com or drop your work in an in-feed Instagram post and tag us in the image: @o.henrymag.

The winner will receive a copy of John Hutton’s book and a place in a forthcoming issue.

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A Full-Circle Journey Home

A FULL-CIRCLE JOURNEY HOME

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A Full-Circle Journey Home

After many moves, the Lacenskis return to where their story began

By Cassie Bustamante

Photographs by Liz Nemeth

When Jordan and Evan Lacenski were looking for a more family-friendly home after their son’s birth in 2020, they saw a sleek, black, midcentury Modern beauty in Hamilton Lakes. But, says Jordan, “My husband and I had never paid anything like that for a house and we were like, ‘That’s insane!’” Then, a Zillow listing caught Jordan’s eye: an abandoned house with an overgrown yard in New Irving Park. A vision of what could be hit her. With her knack for design — and a great general contractor — a clean-lined gem, just like the one that had been beyond reach, materialized.

Today, the Lacenski home, built in 1985, has a bold, black, white and wood exterior that lends to a Modern vibe. What was once empty is now full of life: with Evan, Jordan, Everett, their 5-year-old son, and Austen, their almost 2-year-old daughter, plus the family dog, Bullet. Seeing the original Zillow listing, you understand what an ambitious dream Jordan had for the diamond in the rough. The listing images, as it turns out, are still online. “I hope they never take it down,” she says, because the photos remind her of just how far their home has come.

Thanks to both having parents with jobs that relocated them, Jordan and Evan originally met as middle schoolers in Greensboro. When Jordan was entering the seventh grade in Cleveland, Ohio, her father took a job in the furniture industry that meant a big move to North Carolina. Not wanting to leave her friends behind, 12-year-old Jordan “went outside with my sleeping bag and my goldfish” and told her parents she was staying put. Naturally, Mom and Dad won that battle.

Evan, on the other hand, was used to moving. His father worked as a criminal investigator for the IRS, a job that required frequent relocation. In his nearly 40 years, Evan, a Green Beret veteran, has lived in 19 houses total. “I got to meet lots of new people,” he says, “but I wouldn’t want it for my kids.”

He was a quiet kid, Jordan recalls, but a part of her friend trio, which consisted of her, Evan and their friend, Ian, aka “Spanky.” She’d safely placed him in the friend zone until “he wrote me a love poem,” she says, a poem that he still knows by heart. Yet, she wasn’t convinced — “and then he moved.”

Their paths diverged and wouldn’t physically cross again for several years. And yet, through the wonders of social media, they kept up with one another and remained Facebook friends. When Jordan was a student at Northwest Guilford High School, her father lost his job. While she’d had big dreams of attending college out of state — even as far as Hawaii — her dad encouraged her to apply to affordable in-state schools. She enrolled at N.C. State, where she began studying art and design. “I thought I was going to be an architect.” Until: “Math — maybe not.”

Tuition money ran dry after a few semesters and, while her father eventually found a new job, he moved out of state and her parents divorced. After taking a semester off, she enrolled at UNCG. “And I loooooved UNCG,” she says. She found the faculty especially approachable and empathetic, on top of being innovative. She recalls one particularly tough life moment when she — in tears — asked her professor for a project extension. “I am sobbing and then I am saying I am sorry,” Jordan recalls. “And she said, ‘Why would you ever apologize for being a human being? Human beings cry.’ It was the first time anyone had ever said that to me.”

At UNCG, she pivoted to studying communications and graduated in 2008, right on time for the Great Recession. Since then, she notes, she’s also experienced a global pandemic while pregnant. “We’ve just lived through it all.”

Eventually, Jordan landed a job in her field. With craft beer coming heavily onto the scene, Caffey Distributing created a new position. As the the local beer distributor’s first craft brand manager at the age of 25, Jordan says, “The amount of business that I got to learn because I was sitting in the room with all these C-suite dudes was wild.” Financially secure, she got a dog, a beagle named Siler, and purchased her first home, a foreclosed condo that she and friends painted together while sipping wine. “I was so proud of it,” she says.

Meanwhile, after graduating from the University of Oklahoma on an ROTC scholarship, Evan was stationed in Germany with the U.S. Army. But he’d never forgotten about his middle school flame after all these years and distances. In fact, when she went through a breakup, “He sent me chocolate lava cake to cheer me up.” She recalls Skyping with him afterward while her mom, Sandi Reasoner, was off screen, whisper-yelling to her: “Are you kidding me? Tell him thank you. He is so cute!”

As luck would have it, Evan ended up taking the Special Forces Qualification course at Fort Bragg and, while there, offered — several times — to take Jordan to dinner. A former relationship with someone in the military made her apprehensive about accepting. Plus, she says, “Army spouses have to make a ton of sacrifices, often at the expense of their own careers and ambitions.” After repeatedly turning him down, she eventually agreed, “and that was that.” A year after that first date in 2012, they were married.

Soon after, Evan found himself stationed at Eglin Air Force Base, and the couple hauled their belongings and their two dogs, Cider and Lucy, a great dane, to the sunny, seaside town of Destin, where, Jordan quips, it’s “spring break all the time.” They bought a house, and, as if two dogs were not enough, Jordan came home one day to find Evan on the phone with people at Animal Planet. Soon, Cheech, a rescue he’d seen on Pit Bulls & Parolees, joined their canine brood and the family subsequently appeared on a 2014 episode featuring his homecoming (a real tearjerker — grab the tissues if you watch!). “He had a human soul,” says Jordan wistfully. A wall in their bathroom serves as a memorial to those three dogs, filled with their pictures.

After a year in Destin, Jordan landed a job as the director of marketing and communications for Destin Charity Wine Auction Foundation. While Evan was deployed much of the time they spent in Florida, Jordan launched a side hustle, SheWolf Collaborative — a “non-agency agency” for women in the marketing industry to come together and work collaboratively, no matter where in the country they lived.

Finally, after eight years of service, Evan could take a desk job or transition out. His last deployment to Afghanistan had been tough and he’d lost a teammate, Andy. “Everett’s middle name is Andrew after Andy,” says Jordan. “They were a really tight-knit squad, so I think that changed his perspective and he opted to get out.”

Evan enrolled in the Army’s program that provides counseling, employment and workshops to transition to civilian life, but pivoted when, on family vacation in Montana, he noticed Svallin, an organization that trains protection dogs. He knew of a veteran who trained dogs for them and the idea appealed to him.

Once again, the Lacenskis moved across the country to Bozeman, Mont. There, says Jordan, SheWolf blew up. The area itself is entrepreneurial and the women who live there thrive on collaboration, “like sunshine for everybody.”

Evan’s dog ranch job, however, did not pan out as planned. “He basically was supposed to manage a ranch in Montana and one in South Africa, where dogs were trained to counter poach,” says Jordan. “And that never happened, so half of the salary that we expected him to get never happened.” Back to transitional training he went, where he learned to work in medical device sales. When he was ready to start applying for jobs, one opened up in Greensboro, of all places, and, in 2017, the couple found themselves back where they began.

They moved into a brick Tudor on Walker Avenue, but, once Everett was born, knew a change needed to happen. “He was downstairs, we were upstairs,” says Jordan.

With the help of Matthew MacLanders (“our realtor since I bought that first condo”), they visited what would become their home. Jordan and Matt were going a mile a minute, talking excitedly about what could be done to the house. “And my husband is standing there holding Everett,” quips Jordan, “like, ‘What are you talking about?’”

Jordan brought over her pal, Jodee Rupell, a “total badass” who had loads of remodeling experience. Jodee suggested not just renovating the kitchen, but moving it entirely. Jodee also pushed up her sleeves and got to work: “She was out here one day with her husband’s tractor and hedge clippers at 7 a.m.”

With a design of her own making in place, Jordan reached out to several general contractors for quotes. “And we ended up with the company that actually renovated the Hamilton Lakes house, Donny Root, Building Roots.” With a renovation loan secured, the bank allowed just six months for work to be completed, so Donny, his brother and his nephew worked on the house almost every day and became like family to the Lacenskis.

Jordan sourced materials herself for much of the renovation: tile from Floor & Decor, cabinets from Kitchen Cabinet Worx, light fixtures from “a smorgasbord of Wayfair and all that.”

Entering through the original double front doors, which the couple updated with paint, one of the first things you see is a disco ball hanging in between the entry and kitchen, which are now part of an open-concept central space. The family hung it for New Year’s, but loved it so much that it became a fixture. “At 1 or 1:30 p.m., it does its thing,” says Jordan.

“Only in the winter,” adds Evan, because of the sun’s placement.

Previously, the entry housed a dated grandfather clock where you’d expect to find a secret passage leading upstairs — just like the one in the 1980s sitcom Webster. Now, the wall is open and freshly updated with visible stair railings that have been given a modern look inspired by an image Jordan spied on Pinterest. Donny ran with it, Jordan says. “They just figured it out and they built that.”

The bright, modern kitchen now faces the backyard, where they extended the deck — the “brilliant idea” of Jordan’s mom, who let the family and their dogs crash with her during renovations. (Sandi, as it turns out, loves to spend time on that very deck, sitting by the pool in the summertime.) Light, warm wood cabinets pair with cool, gray, chevron backsplash tiles and white quartz countertops with gray veining. An island with a waterfall countertop offers seating for casual family meals.

Where the kitchen previously sat now serves as a playroom for the kids, complete with three Nugget play couches — “You can’t have enough Nuggets,” says Jordan. The family uses them to build forts, even opting to create “dinner forts,” where they sometimes eat meals.

Just off the playroom is the very thing that sealed the deal. “What sold me was all these windows,” she muses, gesturing to the home office’s wall of tall windows. These days, both she and Evan each work at home frequently, so they have their own desk spaces, with a small desk for Everett in-between the two. Jordan has taken on a new role as director of marketing for ExecBrand Authority, but she’s also pivoted SheWolf away from being a marketing collaborative, turning it into an inclusive space for women from all walks of life. Because she herself was seeking community, she decided to create a platform for it, offering outings, such as kayaking, watercolor lessons and Mahjong, plus opportunities to give back. “At the end of the day, every time I do something outside in community or adventurous in community or creative in community, I always leave happy at the end of it,” she says.

On another wall in the office, Jordan had hoped for builtins, but when the exterior landscaping cost more than she’d expected, some corners were cut. Instead, Jordan painted a series of three freestanding cabinets in a dark-green Annie Sloan chalk paint. Evan’s drum set and 3D printer also take up real estate. Evan, says Jordan, has multiple hobbies. His latest? Ice hockey.

On the opposite end of the main floor, the living room features a large, cushy sectional stuffed with pillows, perfect for cozying up and lounging. A soft, fuzzy, blanket on the sofa welcomes Bullet, the 115-pound gentle giant who serves as door greeter and crumb picker-upper. An array of art climbs the wall behind the couch, a collection of the family’s treasured pieces, including a watercolor painting of Evan and Everett by local artist Alisha Wielfaert. “Art is the way to my heart,” says Jordan.

Before, the room was still in its 1980s heyday, complete with a bar. “Cabinets came out to right here and ran the whole length to that window and in the corner there was a sink,” says Evan. “It was really weird.”

“Because people were partying!” quips Jordan. “At their houses!”

Just off the living room, the couple added a screened-in porch, where Evan’s cold plunge and sauna sit. Once that was constructed, less natural light flowed into the living room, so they brightened it up by painting the wood-paneled ceiling white.

Heading upstairs, another gallery wall, now visible from the home’s entry, adorns the wall. This one features family photos taken throughout the years, most by Winston-Salem photographer Jo Lindsay. “We just added photos of Austen,” says Jordan. “She’s officially part of the fam,” she adds with a laugh, noting that life with two young kids keeps one too busy to keep up with actually printing, framing and hanging said photos.

At the top of the landing, Jordan has assembled a smattering of Tin Nichos, whimsical, colorful 3D shadowboxes crafted by local maker Jayme White, to splash color onto the white wall. Jordan’s collection includes a “cereal killer” and a woman who inspires her, Lucille Ball.

While downstairs features a guest room, the family’s bedrooms are all upstairs. “And where we used to be on different floors, now we are all real close,” says Jordan.

Everett and Austen each have a playful mural in their bedrooms. Everett’s is a mountain scene in rich earth tones, cool gray-greens and tans that Jordan painted herself. And his dresser and nightstands are hand-me-downs from Dad, given a fresh look with chalk paint. “We just repurpose what we can, you know,” says Jordan.

Austen’s wall was a collaborative effort between Jordan and local artist Kara Lewis, a former art teacher at Greensboro Day School. Using “an old-school projector,” Kara painted the black flower outlines and Jordan added splashes of color. Jordan selected flowers that hold special meaning, including hydrangea for abundance, heartfelt emotion and gratitude, and ranunculus for charm, admiration and joy, among others.

In the primary bedroom, Jordan got a wild hair to paint the wall behind their bed. When Evan saw it finished, she recalls, “Evan said, ‘You just said you want to paint that 10 hours ago!’” In her own words, Jordan often takes an idea and runs with it from “zero to 100.” Now, the wall anchors the space in a warm rust, a mixture of two colors “because one was too red brick and one was too Arizona.”

On the opposite wall, next to a dresser Jordan scored at Red Collection, an array of hats surrounds an arched mirror, some from their time in Montana. “This one,” she says, “this is my pride and joy.” Even though there’s a Stetson in her collection, the hat she’s holding was crafted by the Montana Territory Hat company. Underneath its rim, it’s been branded with the word “howl,” a nod to SheWolf.

Of course, Everett saw his mom and her pal writing on the wall and wondered if he could join in the fun. So, on the space that hides behind his bedroom door when it’s open, Jordan wrote “Everett’s Wall” at the top and let him go to town on it. Now, “Everett is very proud of his room.”

The en suite bathroom was completely renovated. A new, modern tub was installed and long, wooden shelves built by local woodworker Amanda Marley float above it on the wall. But Jordan’s favorite added feature? A skylight just above the shower. “No one can see you except for the birds,” she says.

What was once an empty, dated house is now an inviting home filled with art and life, perfect for a modern family. In fact, Evan says, when they first bought it, they had it appraised. Two years later, they had it appraised again. Little did they know, they’d end up with the same appraiser. He called Evan afterwards to ask who had designed it so he could recommend them. “And I was like, ‘My wife did it,’” says Evan. “And he said, ‘That is literally one of the best renovations I have ever seen of an original home. Tell her that she should pursue a career in this.’”

Jordan lets out a squawk of a laugh. While reinventing herself as someone who updates and redesigns houses may not be in the cards, there’s no doubt that she’s made their New Irving Park fixer upper — and Greensboro — into a home she never wants to leave.

“We’ve seen a lot of the country, and we’re here, I think, longterm,” says Evan. Plus, every time he returns from travel, he finds himself saying, “I am happy to be back home.” 

I’ll Show You

I'LL SHOW YOU

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I'll Show You

The magical aspect — and real-life pressures — of live entertainment

By Cynthia Adams   •   Portraits by Liz Nemeth

Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom, which opened at the Little Theatre of Winston-Salem February of last year, is where set designer Fatima Njie discovered how much fun it was to be involved in a process she calls “world building.” She made a checklist and pinned it to a vision board, filling in the details to complete Ma Rainey’s world. 

Sometimes Njie’s best ideas come at 2 a.m. — which is exactly what happened when, as an undergrad at UNCG, she worked on Dontrell, Who Kissed the Sea. “At 1:46 a.m., while at the computer,” she says. “Suddenly, I thought, ah, this.” 

And sometimes inspiration finds her while she settles in with a coffee, observing, “being around people going about their day.” Often, that’s at Camino Bakery in Winston-Salem, “where I can people-watch in peace.”

Odd moments inspire her, so Njie (pronounced “Jie” with a silent “N”) keeps a notepad handy. 

In fact, such random moments influenced her work last spring on a bare-bones-budget, teen production of Twelfth Night for Creative Greensboro and Shared Radiance.

Under creative director Chappell Upper, she had creative carte blanche, which thrilled her.

The vision for her set designs occurred last spring during a fly-on-the-wall moment. 

Sitting beside two women lost in conversation, “I was eavesdropping,” she admits. “One of them had just gotten engaged. I got to hear all her wedding plans. She was really happy. How she met him — it was all so great.” Njie, meantime, flashed to Twelfth Night, naturally, a play “in which everyone gets married.” 

Inspired, she set to work designing heart-shaped walls (staged at the Hyers Theater). “A house over here, and a house over there,” Njie describes. “One of the houses looked like a broken heart. Another house was a full heart.”

Taking artistic license, she reimagined Shakespeare’s play through the pop-art lens of modern romantic comedy.

“Especially with Olivia, who has lost her brother and her heart is broken,” Njie explains. “I depicted her home/set as incomplete.” All of which, she confesses, grew from eavesdropping on strangers.

If you’re young, ambitious and making theater your life’s work, which Njie is, you must rise to the moment, no matter what — and quickly — using every single resource to create a convincing world.

Sometimes, armed with little more than fabric, a glue gun, some paint, wood, nails and her imagination, Njie needed to manifest the best possible set. Regardless of the budget or project, her vision had to support the plot and the characters. To Njie, it was just another challenge posed by working offstage instead of onstage. Having consciously chosen behind-the-scenes work over acting and modeling, Njie realized that working in tech and design was just as creatively appealing as acting but also practical. “It not only paid more, but it was in more demand.”

No auditions and less uncertainty, too.

Today, Njie is a working designer for sets and lighting at Creative Greensboro (which calls itself Greensboro’s “office for arts and culture”) and assistant technical director for lighting and sound at Temple Theatre in Sanford. She is a calm, collected and resourceful 20-something who dresses like the model she once was. 

Wearing her hair down in loose curls with a black ensemble, including a long duster/coat and high-heeled boots, she easily looks the part of a posh character herself, ready to walk onstage.

In fact, she is a sometimes actor, but she is an aesthete who has proven her skills wielding an array of creative tools. While her work won’t be celebrated at curtain call, Njie invests weeks before opening night working with props and the various tools of stagecraft and artifice that conspire to make a production believable. 

For Twelfth Night, she transformed a sad-looking chaise. “I made a chair to go with it . . . it wasn’t that good,” she insists. But it worked and was used in later productions. 

These are early days for her budding career, but Njie is one to watch, according to Sherri Raeford, head of performing arts company Shared Radiance, who has worked with Njie on at least five productions. 

“She’s one of the most versatile theater artists you could meet,” praises Raeford. “I’ve worked with her as an actor, a hair designer, a stylist — in so many capacities — and she always does quality work.”

While a teen in Durham, Njie first tried on the nickname “Jewels,” a name she ditched by the time she entered college, adopting Fatima, a version of her given name Fatou (a popular West African name derived from Fatimah).

For good measure, Njie exchanged her middle name, “Secka,” for “Venus.”

Njie is unashamedly ambitious for her future, having earned a degree in media studies and theater from UNCG in 2022. 

Raeford mentions Njie’s 2024 nomination for a Broadway-World Charlotte Award for set design. As for which production, Njie had to think, given she easily creates six or seven in a single year. 

“It was for Then There Were None, the Agatha Christie work.” 

But now, Njie still thinks her best work so far was seen in Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom, a 2025 production of the Little Theatre of Winston-Salem directed by Tomeka Allen.

“I think that was my best work since Dontrell, Who Kissed the Sea.” 

Each set differs vastly. Her work on Romeo and Juliet at the Stephen D. Hyers Theatre in the Greensboro Cultural Center required sets to be minimal, heavily relying upon Njie’s lighting skills.

“With Ma Rainey, there was a much bigger space.” Her designs reflected that.

A fondness for painting and skills in photography and video editing add to her versatility. After all, she’d always possessed the creativity required for that work. “I liked painting, and had been painting since I was 2 years old.”

Before she was born, Njie’s family immigrated from The Gambia, a place where her mother’s own ambitions were tamped down and she became a stay-at-home mom. Born near Atlanta in Fulton County, Ga., her family moved to North Carolina, living first in Farmville and then Wilson. By sixth grade, Njie was completely taken with the world of drama.

Her mother wanted her “to be successful, because . . . she did have dreams and goals, but never went after them.” But Njie had defined goals which her mother nurtured, moving so that her daughter could attend better schools, ultimately to Durham. “Durham has a big theater, an arts community. A lot bigger than Wilson would have had.” 

“Man, I really liked being on stage and making people laugh and smile — and, you know, making an impact. Live entertainment has some sort of magical aspect to me.” 

By high school she began modeling, already imagining an acting career.

She found work at the Durham Performance Arts Center and a second job at a diner nearby but was laid off from both during the pandemic. “I loved that job [at the diner], too,” she recalls wistfully.

“I didn’t love modeling,” she says flatly. She was appalled by the “ridiculous standards to keep up with and how dangerous it can be.”

Nowadays she might miss a meal or two during a theatrical deadline — but not to meet an agent’s demands to be skinnier, Njie stresses.

Njie moved from the Triangle to study theater at UNCG. 

“Nobody knew what was going to happen to live entertainment,” she says. She chose to concentrate her energies upon the technical aspects of drama and media studies.

It was a practical decision that allowed her to use her various talents.

At UNCG, freelance designer Tab May became Njie’s mentor after seeing her work in September 2022 for Dontrell, Who Kissed the Sea. “He saw the set and said, ‘Wow, this is gorgeous!’” Njie beams. She felt pride in what she had done, posting on Facebook, “The curtain closes on Dontrell, Who Kissed the Sea. I can say with confidence this was the best set design I’ve ever done, because it’s the first.”

“I didn’t eat for 26 hours trying to finish everything on time. I worked hard,” she says, putting every skill she had into bringing the story to life.

Later, May supported Njie’s interest in filling his old job at Creative Greensboro when he left to work in technical design in Winston-Salem, introducing her to Todd Fisher, performing arts coordinator at Creative Greensboro.

“I never had an interview,” recalls Njie. “I sent Tab my cover letter. A week later, I learned I was welcomed to the team.” May’s endorsement, it turns out, was enough.

The role at Creative Greensboro became Njie’s first “official” job in set designing. 

Young enough to understand the difficulty in getting a professional footing, Njie keeps close to other young theater hopefuls. She volunteers as a lead practitioner on workshops for teens interested in the arts, a joint project of Shared Radiance, which adapts and stages Shakespearian dramas for youth productions, and Creative Greensboro

“Pop art is fun,” Njie says. 

For many theater goers, the set itself becomes a leading character. She lights up at the idea. “That is a compliment!” 

At Temple, where she enjoys working with technical director Austin Hendrick, she’s gearing up for a spring show. “My next design will be Bright Star . . . kind of close to my heart. It made me cry and I’m not a crier,” she says. 

As always, Njie “will live and breathe that show until it is over. Theater is just like that.”

Each show teaches her something new, a trick, hack, or something they don’t tell you in school. Valuable information from “being in the real world, as they say.” 

As for her dreams, funnily, “they change a lot.” When “young-young,” Njie wanted to join a touring company. Or Saturday Night Live, but she decided she wasn’t funny enough.

“But now, I think I’m in the place where I have my support system. There’s something for me here,” she says happily. “Companies and people I like working with.”   

And she has added a new dream, “a grand dream of restoring Creative Greensboro to its former glory . . . pre-COVID.” Not single-handedly, she adds, but she wants to play a supportive part in a huge comeback. 

Meanwhile, Bright Star, written by Steve Martin and Edie Brickell, will open at the Temple in April.   

“The story is about family — and that is a subject that is close to my heart — set in two time periods. A woman having a child out of wedlock is looked down upon,” Njie continues. As with her other productions, Njie’s honing her craft. Her goal with this one — and with every subsequent show? “I want to not just be good, but be the best.” 

“I’ll show you, which is kind of how I approach it,” Njie says, rising up from her chair with a former model’s poise. 

Who would doubt her? 

Poem January 2026

POEM

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The Other Side of the Mirror

“Let’s pretend the glass has got all soft like gauze . . .
And certainly the glass was beginning to melt away,
just like a bright silvery mist.”

    — Lewis Caroll, Through the Looking Glass

 

There’s always a reason I’d rather stay home,

as I brush my hair, gaze into my reflection, sit

before the dresser where I combed my curls

as a girl, forever getting ready for the life

that hadn’t arrived yet. Mirrors remained

unfazed, as I exchanged one image for another,

changed my hairstyles and hats, traced fingers

along a scar, abandoned myself for imperfections.

I have come close to escaping into another world,

always about to leave or about to live, my eyes

child-like, clear as glass, considering what time

it must be . . . to keep from disappearing

into my own unbreakable stare.

— Linda Annas Ferguson

Dream Home

DREAM HOME

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Dream Home

A Loewenstein lives on in Irving Park

By Billy Ingram • Photographs by Amy Freeman

When newlyweds Daniel and Kathy Craft set out in search of their dream home, one both idealized yet narrowly defined, it may have seemed like that impossible dream enshrined in song. What they had in mind was a place that offered a warm hearth and an enriching environment where they could raise a family, but the type of home they desired wasn’t being built anymore, and the remaining ones were being eradicated at an alarming rate. They were longing for a Loewenstein.

In those rare instances when Triad realtors happen across a listing for a “Loewenstein,” the name is spoken in revered tones. There were other mid-century architects crafting magnificent homes locally and across the Southeast, celebrated artists held in just as high regard — Charles C. Hartmann and Harry Barton being obvious options — but for sweeping super-structures limited solely by one’s imagination and, only occasionally, the laws of gravity, Edward Loewenstein was, and remains, in a class unto himself.

The unfolding of the 1950s ushered in an era of unprecedented prosperity buoyed by an abundance of unrealized real estate, an atmosphere where there could be no greater testimony to a family’s success than the home they had designed and constructed for themselves. And no address came packaged with more prestige for platforming those affluent architectural assertions than a cautiously expanding Irving Park neighborhood street encircling the Greensboro Country Club, established in 1909.

A disciple of the Modernist movement typified by Frank Lloyd Wright, Richard Neutra and other avant-garde West Coast architects, Edward Loewenstein graduated from Chicago’s Deerfield Shields High School and MIT with a B.A. in architecture in 1935. He established his Greensboro architectural firm in 1946 after having served during WWII and marrying Francis Stern, stepdaughter to denim impresario Julius Cone. He was determined to break away from the Arts and Crafts, Mission Colonial and Tudor Revivals going up north of downtown.

After completing a dozen or so conventional dwellings, as luck would have it, he was approached in 1950 by a young couple, Wilbur and Martha Carter, who had three children and a hankering for a homestead that would instill an air of distinction on their heavily wooded, 1.28-acre lot facing Country Club Drive and extending back to Cornwallis.

Given a choice between two wildly divergent designs, one a Georgian Revival fitting snugly into the neighborhood’s stately but somewhat staid motif, the Carters chose the more radical schematic Loewenstein presented them with. “I think there were other houses in Greensboro that had Modernist tendencies, but it seemed he was the only one at the time that was [dedicated to] it,” says Patrick Lee Lucas, author of the definitive book on Greensboro’s Modernist maestro: Modernism at Home: Edward Loewenstein’s Mid-Century Architectural Innovation in the Civil Rights Era.

Following the precepts of international modern style, the Carters’ house was defined by a flat roof, an open floor plan, curtain windows and minimal ornamentation. Architects of the time were guided by the “rule” that “form follows function,” which prompted designers to consider what a building should achieve for the user before what it should look like. Blueprints called for a horizontal, L-shaped structure fronted with a low-pitched roof atop a screened (eventually glass) solarium, which featured bluestone flooring that stretched into the central living room. Obscuring an already sunken, single-leaf front door, an 8-foot-high brick wall extended from the front yard into the home for a short way to distinguish the bedroom corridor from communal space.

Toward the rear, hidden storage and built-in bookshelves abounded, and at the base of the windows inside the den a brick planter was enclosed. Back-to-back fireplaces were embedded in a load bearing wall facing both the living room and den. The spacious kitchen was floored in 9-by-9-inch, brown-and-marble-patterned, vinyl-asbestos tiles made by Armstrong. Employing industrial-use tiles and natural stone floors indoors were uncommon home accoutrement. The children’s rooms were connected via a Jack-and-Jill bathroom.

Rather than clearcutting, as was the custom, all of the imposing oaks on the property remained in place. “Loewenstein seemed particularly adept at using underutilized lots in Irving Park,” Lucas points out. “These were the tree lots that no one wanted or they were sold off from a bigger parcel as the neighborhood further subdivided.” Gravitating toward rugged grounds with unusual features, says Lucas, “Part of his goal, both from a Modernist sense but also from a sensitivity to the environment, was to build around the trees.”

“Of all the houses that he designed, it’s the most unusual in that it has two living rooms next to one another,” Lucas notes. “One was essentially an outdoor room, so it meant that there were times of the year it couldn’t be used because it was just so cold and hard to heat in the ’50s.” The resulting perception was an innate spaciousness that gave the sense of being outside while inside the home, its wide-open interiors defined not so much by walls as where people chose to congregate.

The Carter abode was such a radical departure from the norm it was practically an affront. “Some of the neighbors were like, what? And others were like, this is cool,” Lucas states. “So there was a little tug of war in that sense.” In correspondence concerning what he referred to as his “Dream Home,” Loewenstein lamented that he “received violent comments in both directions from neighbors and friends.” The Carters themselves were pleased as “they wanted it to be not something traditional,” Lucas reiterates.

Vindication arrived after the house won an American Institute of Architects North Carolina Design Award in 1951, was featured in Architectural Record in 1952, and then bestowed a 1955 Merit Award from Southern Architect magazine. Resistance to Loewenstein’s futuristic fancies melted as a subsequent Modernist home was taking shape on Princess Anne Street in nearby Kirkwood, where homeowners petitioned the Greensboro Zoning Commission to allow for a departure from the contemporary Cape Cod conformity sanctioned by its neighborhood planners.

From the beginning, Loewenstein was the first in North Carolina to hire Black architects. “Some had employed African American draftsmen before World War II, but he was the first to do it in a major way,” Lucas points out. Many, like Clinton Gravely and W. Edward Jenkins, went on to great acclaim in Greensboro with their own firms. “It was a form of protest or nonconformity in terms of the way that he operated, employing these guys who wouldn’t have an architecture firm to work for because there wasn’t one that would hire them.”

Lucas posits that marrying into the influential Cone family allowed Loewenstein to buck the system “and probably not suffer the consequences of other societal forces relative to how the rest of us had to operate.” Hailing from Chicago, where race relations were far less volatile, Lucas muses, “Maybe he was doing what he was doing and just let the chips fall where they may.” Or, perhaps, being the only prominent Jewish architect in North Carolina, it was a logical extension of his own status as an underdog.

With Loewenstein’s reputation and workload steadily growing across the Southeast he took on a partner, Robert A. Atkinson Jr. In 1950s in Irving Park alone, the firm of Loewenstein-Atkinson was responsible for ground-breaking Modernist designs such as the sumptuous Ceasar and Martha Cone house on Cornwallis (demolished for a cul-de-sac in 1994), the Sidney and Kay Stern residence at 1804 Nottingham, UNCG’s 1959 Commencement Home at 612 Rockford, the John and Evelyn Hyman home at 608 Kimberly Drive and the game-changing Robert and Bettie Chandgie hybrid two blocks away at 401 Kimberly.

Embracing Modernism allowed for a lessened emphasis on interior decoration. “What we’re going to do is just celebrate nature without having to actually reproduce it inside,” Lucas maintains about the minimalist philosophy, creating frameworks adaptable to any aesthetic. One can’t help but wonder what it was like back in the 1950s, before suburban street lamps dulled Irving Park’s nighttime skies, the warmth inside these homes contrasting with nature’s soaring flora bathed in moonlight refracted through panoramic glass apertures.

In 2004, with three kids in tow, the Crafts became only the second owners of Loewenstein’s self-described “Dream House” he had crafted for the Carters, but not without considerable effort. “We’d been looking for years,” Kathy recalls. The journey home began when they were newlyweds, but didn’t end until seven years later. “We were 28 years old and we just couldn’t turn around and buy a Loewenstein at that time.” Still, they researched, attended open houses and watched frustratingly as, one after another, Modernist monoliths fell out of favor and were leveled in favor of developing the land they occupied.

Fate stepped in after the Crafts met Lee Carter at what had been his childhood home. Kathy knew after just a few feet into the front door that this was the one. None the less, Carter wasn’t exactly a motivated seller. Witnessing what had happened to other comparable properties, he only, months later, made the decision to allow the family home to change hands, but with one stipulation — that it not be desecrated or demolished. “It was sort of destiny, it was the right timing and it was the right house,” Kathy says.

In the suitably spacious backyard, the Crafts discovered the Carters had installed a small horse stable and utility building. Structural alterations undertaken by the Carters decades earlier, overseen by Loewenstein, included decreasing the width of the wall alongside the front door while increasing the length of the roof covering the solarium. In the 1980s, brickwork inside and out was painted white. A pantry door off of the kitchen still retains the Carter family’s important names and contact information scrawled across it, reminders of a time when only five numbers were required to dial neighbors.

Foundational tweaks the Crafts have instituted are minimal. All of the window panes have been replaced and the vinyl-asbestos kitchen flooring was removed in favor of a terrazzo-like porcelain tile. After seven decades, a smattering of those old growth trees have been uprooted by necessity, flooding the home with natural light. “I never turn on a lamp until the sun goes down,” Kathy says.

In the early 2000s, Kathy owned the Eastern Standard Gallery located in downtown’s Southend community, where she showcased, among many other exemplary artists, her brother-in-law Michael Coté’s furniture. In fact, he constructed their intricately inlaid wood dinner table. “He was not trained, never schooled. He just picked up woodworking and made that table,” says Kathy. Redeploying the matching high back chairs for accents, the Crafts instead assembled table-side a half dozen transparent, Baroque-influenced Philippe Starck Ghost Chairs with curved armrests. As actress Katherine Hepburn famously attested, “Men are unhappy sitting at a dining room table if their chairs don’t have arms.”

Behind that table, imbuing an Asian influence, is an a four-panel vintage Baker Furniture screen that Douglas Freeman painted for Daniel’s birthday in 2010. A happy match with what the Carters had acquired in 1964 and left behind that adorns the den, a Japanese byōbu from MoMA depicting Heian-period courtiers leading a formal procession. “That is actually paper adhered to the wall, then framed,” Kathy explains.

The solarium is punctuated by a painting awash in muted tones, “an abstract of the marsh by Walter Greer,” says Kathy, “a well-known artist from Hilton Head Island. Dad loved his work.” Nearby are two Ludwig Mies van der Rohe Barcelona chairs and an ottoman, reflexively reflecting an overall retro sensibility to the decor, embellishments emblematic of a sense of playful permanence and space-age proportionality this home embodies.

The Crafts’ three children have graduated college and scattered to careers in various locales, but this in no way feels like an empty nest. If anything, a welcoming environment for a potential influx of grandkids.

The mid-century Modernist movement was, for many, an optimistic harbinger for the wondrous World of Tomorrow promised us by the 1939 World’s Fair, Disneyland and Reddy Kilowatt (“Live better electrically!”). Finished in 1954, Loewenstein’s own home on Granville Road features a driveway long and wide enough to land a flying car comfortably, should it come to that. 

In his waning days, Frank Lloyd Wright was quoted as saying, “The longer I live, the more beautiful life becomes. If you foolishly ignore beauty, you will soon find yourself without it. Your life will be impoverished. But if you invest in beauty, it will remain with you all the days of your life.” Loewenstein was more laconic: “Dedicated architects die unhappy. They never get to unleash creative juices because of pressure to please clients.” He gets right to the heart of what gives the Carter House its cultural significance, so cutting-edge for the period — nobody knew enough about the direction the upstart architect was headed to get in his way.

In the end, Loewenstein’s instinct for “bringing the outside inside” backfired in terms of longevity. Eventually, some would argue inevitably, the spacious landscaping these houses were integrated into far exceeded the commercial value of the structures.

“It used to be,” Lucas says, “if you were one of these Modernist houses designed by this weird guy, Loewenstein, no big deal. We’ll just tear it down and build something bigger there.” Now the name conveys a level of esteem in the way Rolex, Ferrari and Tiffany have become synonymous with style and stature. “Most of the calls I still get are from realtors trying to prop up their property with a Loewenstein connection. So it’s kind of moved on in that regard.”

As realtor Katie Redhead related to me a few years ago about the current marketplace mindset regarding Loewensteins, “We started seeing homes that were in Westerwood, a house on East Lake Drive — let me tell you, those houses went off the charts, people went nuts. Right now we’ve got such a high demand, if one did come on the market, I think it would be well received.  And I probably wouldn’t have said that 10 years ago.”

As for the Crafts, they won’t be selling any time soon.

Throwing Stones, Sweeping Ice

THROWING STONES, SWEEPING ICE

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Throwing Stones, Sweeping Ice

In the Gate City, curling is very cool

By Ross Howell Jr.  •  Photographs by Bert VanderVeen

Did you know you can hone your viewing skills for the 2026 Winter Olympics right in downtown Greensboro?

Most Tuesday evenings from November through January, you can bundle up and head out to LeBauer Park’s seasonal skating rink, where teams with monikers like Curl Jam, Of Ice and Men, Rolling Stones and Sultans of Sweep compete in the Greensboro Curling League.

I’m guessing that your experience with curling is like mine — you’ve watched it on TV every four years. Maybe this will help.

Think of playing cornhole on an ice rink, where you slide the bags instead of throwing them, mix in checkers or chess, where your opponent’s pieces can block your move, factor in the chance that you might slip and bust your butt, and you’ve pretty much got curling. Well, sort of.

Alternating individual players slide (“throw”) heavy, handled objects (“stones” or, familiarly, “rocks”) across the ice (“sheet” or “rink”) toward a ringed target (“house”), winning points for the stones that remain closest to the center (“button”). Teammates assist the throwing player by scrubbing (“sweeping”) the ice in front of the stone with brushes to influence its path and speed toward the house.

Got it?

To refine my vague understanding of the game, I drive over to Old Town Tavern on Spring Garden Street to meet the team that the tavern sponsors — Gate City Curling.

When I walk out on the patio, I’m greeted by Chris “Skipper” Ratliff, the team captain, who works in the financial aid and scholarships office at UNCG.

Turns out, Gate City Curling is one of the original teams in the Greensboro Curling League.

Around the time of the 2018 Winter Olympics in South Korea, Chuck Burch, manager of the Greensboro Ice House, an indoor skating facility on Landmark Center Boulevard that features two National Hockey League-size ice rinks, put out a call on Facebook for people who might be interested in seeing a demonstration about curling.

Ratliff saw it and convinced his friend, coworker in financial aid and now teammate, Spencer “Wildcard” Smith, to join him at that first session.

“We go, they do a brief demonstration and ask, ‘Who’s interested?’” Ratliff says.

“Spencer’s and my arms shot straight up,” he continues. “We started the team from that.”

Initially, there were just six teams that played a couple of matches during the season.

Teammate Raina “Queen” Barnett, who works in the registrar’s office at UNCG, recalls the humble beginnings of the league.

“The stones were actually stainless-steel salad bowls filled with concrete,” she says. One bowl was inverted over the other and joined at the seam with layers of painter’s tape.

“The handle was PVC pipe,” she adds. “It was all very backyard. We’d get brushes for sweeping the ice from Home Depot.”

“Yeah, you could break the handles putting too much force on them,” quips team member Angel “Viking” Fuentes, a general contractor who’s a native of Mexico City.

“And we still use Sharpies to draw the circle targets on the ice,” Barnett adds.

Backyard? I’ll say.

An Olympics-grade curling stone made of the rare, quartz-free granite found in only two quarries in the world — in Scotland and Wales — will carry a 5-figure price tag.

But, despite its salad bowl origins, the sport has caught on.

For the 2025-2026 season, the Greensboro Curling League boasts 16 teams of four to five players each. The season lasts for weeks and culminates with a two-day tournament, where the championship team is awarded the Mitchell/Walden Memorial Cup, named in honor of the late Katelyn Mitchell and Rob Walden, who were original members of the league. The winning team’s name is inscribed on the cup and the members hold it for a year, much like the Stanley Cup in professional hockey.

And the stones these days are greatly improved, thanks to a grant from the Community Foundation of Greater Greensboro.

“Ours are recreational league stones like they have in Canada,” Ratliff says. And these stones aren’t cheap, either. They’re priced at around $500 apiece.

While they enjoy the new trappings, both Ratliff and Smith emphasize that their matches are not like what you see on TV.

For example, Gate City Curling has never competed inside a covered facility, not even the Greensboro Ice House. In fact, the team relishes the special challenges that curling outdoors presents.

“Charlotte has a curling league, but they’re all indoor like you see in the Olympics,” Ratliff says. “That’s just not how we do it,” he continues. “We battle the elements. It’s a lot more exciting.”

“The ice changes constantly, throughout the night,” Ratliff adds. “It really comes down to which team can adapt first.”

Teammate Kevin “Hammer” Shoffner, who’s the marketing manager for Habitat for Humanity, chimes in.

“It might be 60 degrees one week,” he says. “Then, all of a sudden, we’re back to freezing.”

“One thing we’ve learned is that you can’t curl in the rain,” Ratliff adds. That’s because there’s no grain on the ice to slow the stone.

“And you cannot curl in the snow,” says Barnett. Its accumulation impedes the glide of the stone.

“A heavy snow we had years ago was terrible for curling,” Shoffner says.

“The stone wouldn’t go five feet,” Ratliff remembers.

As locals know, snow in the Piedmont often turns to slush: “It was like throwing on cat food!” Smith laughs.

“That’s what’s unbelievable,” says Fuentes.

“Even in the worst conditions,” he continues, “you just get out there and think, ‘Oh, yeah, I’m doing this!’ The weather doesn’t matter.”

Another attraction for Gate City Curling members is the sense of community they feel participating in the league.

“It takes a unique person to go outside at 9:30 at night in 30-degree temperatures and stand on ice,” says Ratliff.

“You play other sports, people can be hyper competitive,” Shoffner comments. “But this is organic. It’s not super pressure, we’re out there having fun.”

Fuentes offers a different take on this quirky community.

“What I get the most fun out of is telling people that I play curling,” he laughs. “And people go, ‘What? Curling? No, really, that can’t be real.’”

“There’s definitely shock value,” says Barnett. “People say, ‘What? Curling? In Greensboro?’”

While the teammates enjoy the notoriety and the relatively laidback competition, they’re still in it to win it.

Shoffner is known for his powerful throw and is usually designated to throw the all-important last stone, called the “hammer,” which can displace all the stones in the house.

Smith is the team’s rock, paper, scissors champion, the game by which the team determines the order in which individual members throw their stones and what color stones the team plays with.

Barnett has perfected the crucial first throw, reliably placing a stone to set up the team for a potential point.

Fuentes is the team’s finesse guy, known for finding his way to the button.

Ratliff handles the team’s promotion while consistently ranking among the top three sweepers in the league.

“We’re a pretty well-oiled machine because we’ve been doing this for seven years,” Ratliff explains.

“If we get that win on a Tuesday night, I got a little spring in my step on Wednesday,” says Fuentes.

“I may be the most competitive on the team,” Ratliff says. Since he’s captain, you’d expect that.

“I don’t know anybody who goes onto the ice and doesn’t want to win,” Barnett claims. “We still have that drive, but it’s not so competitive that it sucks all the fun out.”

“Friendly rivalry,” Smith concludes.

In competition, there are nuances that are missed by the uninitiated. Most of us would note the loudly barked directions and sometimes frantic sweeping, but we would probably miss the hand signals teammates use.

“There’s a lot of noise out on the ice at any given time,” Shoffner says.

Not only is the outside lighting dim, the Sharpie-drawn house is barely discernible from the thrower’s position. So hand signals can be critically important.

“Sometimes, you throw it and you think you’ve got it in the house, and you’re like, ‘Yeah, I’m on the button!’” says Smith. “And your teammates are like, ‘Dude, you’re 5 feet away, what are you talking about?’”

“You cannot do it by yourself,” Barnett emphasizes. “Even if your eyesight is perfect, you cannot see.”

“If you’re the one throwing and your teammate is sweeping,” she continues, “it’s like an optical illusion.”

“Your teammates are really your eyes and ears,” Barnett concludes.

So what’s the future look like for Gate City Curling?

Already, Monday nights on the rink have been set for novices to try their skills and maybe develop new teams for the Tuesday-night league.

“What I’d like the community to know is the Greensboro Curling League is a thing,” Ratliff says. “It’s been run by some really cool, independent and dedicated people who came together, created it and have run it successfully for seven years.”

“For me, seeing curling growing and having ice hockey come back to Greensboro is exciting,” Shoffner says. “It’s not exactly a movement, but there’s a rise in winter sports.”

“It’d be great if the Gargoyles had us out for a little curling exposition on the ice at half time,” says Smith.

“News 2 did a live feed of the tournament one year; maybe they’d do it again,” Ratliff muses.

“We already do one,” Smith says. “It’s just a tripod and a camera, right?”

“Yeah,” Ratliff answers. “I slipped on the ice and broke my tripod.”

Smith grins.

“I’d forgotten you fell,” he says. “Thanks for reminding us.”

“Breaking a tripod instead of a collar bone, that’s better,” Fuentes says with a laugh.

Curling in downtown Greensboro may not be the Olympics. But it’s plenty entertaining. And if you show up on a wintry Monday night to give it a try, or on a Tuesday just to hang out by the rink and watch, you’ll warm the hearts of some very dedicated people.