I was in search of a photo column, and was given a tip to check out these huge grasshoppers that only populated the 16th tee at one of our local golf courses. These eastern lubber grasshoppers, were quite an awkward bunch. They can’t fly and have a habit of leaping off balance, but people seem to love them anyway.
Blake Millard used to drive his teachers in high school crazy with his artwork. It wasn’t because the drawings were crude or lacked effort. It’s because they were scrawled on the surface of his desk — during class.
Millard has been into art as long as he can remember. He is now the museum preparator for the Naples Museum of Art.
In an afternoon inside the museum, Millard is balancing on scaffolding, helping install the latest exhibit from Dale Chihuly, a world renowned glass sculptor. Chihuly was one of the original artists on display when the museum first opened its doors in 2000.
Millard stands on the balls of his feet, extending his arm with a spotlight cupped in his palm directly above a mirrored glass piece sitting on a white table. Any error could end in catastrophe. But Millard by this point has installed thousands of lights and he gently snaps the track fixture into place. With the help of Chihuly art handlers, the light is angled onto the sculpture, and it comes to life with detail. Millard’s years of experience has helped him be quick yet careful in his work.
“You’re going to start to feel comfortable even with handling Chihulys after you handled you know, a hundred of them,” Millard said. “You get comfortable you don’t think about breaking it.”
Millard has overseen hundreds of exhibits in the Naples Museum, he’s hung more than 20,000 prints on the walls of the galleries, but Millard says the last thing he wants when someone comes to an exhibit is to be thinking about what he did.
“I just want to make a nice presentation, I want people to experience the artwork,” Millard said. “I want people to come in and see the art, I don’t want them to notice the lighting.”
In an adjoining room, Scott Leen, the lead photographer for Chihuly, has a pair of white gloves on and is busy finishing dusting a room full of towering and intricate glass sculptures. He steadies the sculpture with one hand and lightly guides a cloth over the work. Leen says daily maintenance of glass sculptures is necessary because of how they interact with light.
“The sole purpose of glass is to collect and transmit light,” Leen said. “In lighting something that is a receptive to light, it makes it very unique. You don’t get light that is just reflected off of the surface, it also transmits the light.”
For Millard, that means getting the lighting right for the glass exhibit is the most important part.
“It’s all about presentation,” Millard said. “Because you’re showing this art to the public, and you want to knock their socks off.”
Back on the ground, and now also wearing white gloves, Millard runs his hand along the top ridge of a frame, clearing it of dust. Using only tape measure and a pencil, Millard marks the spot where the charcoal sketch will hang. In less than a minute, the artwork is ready for display and Millard is already measuring the next piece.
“You just try to make these look as good as you can,” Millard said.
Most of Ilene Backsman’s life is lived within a 11-foot by 12-foot room.
At 94 years old, Backsman, who has cancer, faces her own mortality every day.
She can no longer walk on her own, instead needing the aid of a cane, to carefully move from her reading chair to her bed, two feet away. She said she used to weigh a healthy 170 pounds, but because she has a tough time eating, now weighs a fragile 98 pounds. Backsman is constantly connected via clear tubes to an oxygen tank which emits a low buzz from the corner of the room to help her breathe easier.
But Backsman is not troubled.
She is content with her life.
“I’ve been out (in the world) for many years, so now I’m in for a few,” Backsman said as she laughed.
One of those times “out” was in 1936 when she traveled from her home in Kentucky to New York City to experience New Year’s Eve in Times Square. “It was the highlight of my life,” Backsman said. She so enjoyed being around many people celebrating the start of a fresh year.
To this day, she still watches the ball drop, only Backsman sees it the next morning because she goes to bed about 10 p.m. For her, New Year’s Eve is for a younger generation and those who are still in their dating years.
Backsman relocated to Naples in 1958 after her husband at the time, Raymond Gilb, suggested they see what the up-and-coming city was all about. Backsman initially didn’t want to move, but the self-described traveler couldn’t resist the adventure. The family moved several times within the city limits through the years, but never left after arriving.
“I’ve lived in every place in Naples except for Port Royal,” Backsman joked.
For a time, Backsman worked as a proofreader at the Naples Daily News, when it was located in Crayton Cove before moving in 1969 to Central Avenue.
“Everyday was something different,” Backsman said. “And I only sat in the office.”
But despite switching jobs and homes, Backsman has planted roots in the city, with two kids, five grandkids and 12 great gran
dkids. She lives with one of her daughters, Melinda Beatty, and most of her extended family still lives within driving distance.
“I think that’s why I was made to live so long,” Backsman said. “To love all my kids.”
Beatty backs up that sentiment. “She’s always been supportive of her family,” Beatty said.
But as Backsman took care of Beatty when she was a child, Beatty now has the opportunity to show her mother the same kind of regard she received.
“The roles have been reversed over the last couple years,” Beatty said. “I think that she deserves this. She’s been a good mom, she’s helped us all along and watched out for us and now it’s our turn to look out for her.”
In her dim
ly lit room, Backsman sits on the edge of her bed, her hands pressed against the worn fabric of an old flower print quilt. She wears a red sweater and has her hair neatly brushed. Next to her, AVOW Hospice Reiki Master and massage therapist Rosemary Lowe lightly rubs Backsman’s shoulder and back, working out tightness. It’s some of the most exercise Backsman gets now.
The only traveling Backsman does is through the fictional characters in her novels. It isn’t lonely, just more secluded. She doesn’t like to reflect too much, not because it bothers her, but because she’s focused on her next daily task. She still has her morning coffee with her daughter and a chat about the topic of the day.
“I never expected to live so long, I didn’t want to live this long,” Backsman said. “But altogether I’d say I’ve lived a pretty great life.”
