Charmed by Eccentricity
Ocean Springs, Mississippi, is everything you’d expect of a quaint southern town, and lots of things you wouldn’t, thanks to its passionate embrace of the arts
Embedded along the Biloxi- Ocean Springs Bridge walkway in Mississippi are 18 reproductions of famous artwork, each created by an Ocean Springs artist. “Art permeates everything we do,” says my guide, Margaret Miller.
Ocean Springs is teeming with chic, one- of- a- kind shops, indulgent spas and down- home cooking that reflects all the surrounding influences, from Cajun and French to Gulf Coast seafood and barbeque, but art is the Biloxi Bay– side town’s driving force. Walter Anderson, a prolific artist who lived from 1903 to 1965, is largely responsible for that. The contents of the tiny room within which he lived and did much of his painting were transplanted to the Walter Anderson Museum of Art, which opened on Washington Avenue in 1991 . It also features the pottery of his brother, Peter Anderson, and the ceramics and paintings of his other brother, James McConnell Anderson. A wooden chest bulges with Walter’s Impressionistic paintings, and his murals span the walls.
Anderson’s depictions of local life— its people, animals and plants— put Ocean Springs on the map. But he was a bit off- kilter. As the story goes, he often rowed the 12 miles to Horn Island, where he’d stay for weeks, with only his boat for shelter. His was a white- hot passion tinged with mental illness. He was institutionalized several times when the balance skewed. Anderson’s determination was so strong, though, that once, as he escaped on a rope of tied- together sheets, he painted on the institution’s walls.
“In the south, we embrace our eccentrics,” Miller says.
Anderson’s 1934 mural, “Ocean Springs Past and Present,” stretches across what
SURVEYING THE OTHER GALLERIES THROUGHOUT OCEAN SPRINGS IS AN ACT BEST SAVORED THROUGH A LEISURELY STROLL.
was the auditorium of the town’s high school. Today, it’s the Mary C. O’Keefe Cultural Center of Arts and Education, which houses studios for visual and performing arts classes, along with a café manned by aspiring chefs.
Surveying the other galleries throughout Ocean Springs is an act best savored through a leisurely stroll. Old, leafy oaks that line the quiet streets provide just the right amount of shade. Here, creativity extends well beyond the conventional confines. I stop at The Red Lily Spa Naturelle for a pedicure and learn that Shelly Dennis, my manicurist, also makes mint and lime soap, as well as her own exfoliates from raw sugar, extra- virgin olive oil and pure glycerin.
The neon sign that announces Lovelace Drugs to Washington Avenue is a portal straight back to the fifties. Elvis used to hang out at the soda fountain when he came to town to visit a girlfriend, according to the legend. Nothing about the milkshakes has changed in the decades since.
Over on Government Street, F. A. B. America stands out without the aid of a loud vintage sign. The exterior’s decorated in red, white and blue. Inside, the entire inventory is comprised of products made in America. The owner, however, is South African.
Jubilee Boutique, back on Washington Avenue, is less explicit in its patriotism. There, I’m drawn to a collection of early-
OCEAN SPRINGS IS TEEMING WITH CHIC, ONE- OFA- KIND SHOPS, INDULGENT SPAS AND DOWN- HOME COOKING THAT REFLECTS ALL THE SURROUNDING INFLUENCES, FROM CAJUN AND FRENCH TO GULF COAST SEAFOOD AND BARBEQUE, BUT ART IS THE BILOXI BAY– SIDE TOWN’S DRIVING FORCE.
20th- century baubles that were made from French- crafted molds. They’re the perfect accessories for the outfits I bought at Bayou Belle and Lee Tracy.
All that shopping and art- hunting required sustenance, and lots of it. Phoenicia Gourmet Restaurant fueled my mornings, between the eggs benedict, the crawfish omelette ( which is also served with hollandaise sauce) and the crepe- style pancakes.
The back patio at Maison de Lu, beneath the canopy of the oak trees, was an ideal lunch spot, and the Frenchtown Inn salad, an ideal lunch: cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, bacon and goat cheese over a fluffy pile of fresh greens, topped with two piping- hot apple beignets.
It’d be criminal to visit Mississippi and bypass the barbeque, so I sought out The Shed Barbeque & Blues Joint, where two well- dressed, elderly gentlemen man the door as greeters. The juxtaposition is kind of funny. See, The Shed is housed in an actual shed.
“We wanted a juke joint atmosphere,” says Brooke Lewis, one of the owners.
Hanging from the rafters is a sign that reads, “If you are not in a good mood, do not enter.” Diners sit at picnic tables, gnawing on ribs and chicken, sucking the scratch-made sauce from their sticky fingers. At some point, for everyone, appetites take over, and dignity is dispensed among a dozen dirty paper napkins. It’s one of the qualities I love best about small southern towns like Ocean Springs: During such moments, there’s only camaraderie.