The juried “Storm Stories” art exhibition at Alliance for the Arts in Fort Myers is on view September 1st through 30th. This exhibition which, was a year in the making, consists of Hurricane Ian inspired artwork by a multitude of talented local artists and is presented in conjunction with their oral history project, “Storm Stories.”
One of the artworks being shown in “Storm Stories” is “hurricane ian. sanibel island, florida.” by Southwest Florida artist, Eric J. Taubert. This piece of art depicts imagery from Taubert’s personal storm experience and his journey back to Sanibel Island, as well as Sanibel’s own journey towards a new normal, after Hurricane Ian.
We decided to corner Taubert and get him to talk about some of the building blocks of imagery that he used to create his artwork, “hurricane ian. sanibel island, florida.”
CONTINUE READING BELOW FOR MORE INFORMATION AND A BETTER LOOK AT THE ART…
RELATED: CALL FOR ART: Attention Artists from (or inspired by) Sanibel, Captiva, Fort Myers, Fort Myers Beach, Pine Island, Cape Coral, Bonita Springs, and Southwest Florida. Sanibel Art Colony is seeking artists to submit art inspired by the impact of Hurricane Ian to their digital-only exhibition, “There’s Calm In Your Eye”. NO ENTRY FEE! Submission Deadline: September 23, 2023. CLICK HERE TO ENTER NOW: sanibelartcolony.com/hurricane-ian-call-for-art
Here is an interview we had with Taubert about what inspired “hurricane ian. sanibel island, florida.”:
Can you tell us a little bit about who you are and the body of work you’re currently creating?
My name is Eric J. Taubert and I’m an artist, fine art photographer, and writer living in Southwest Florida. My work is created through the process of a slow, deliberate, and mindful look at the interaction of places near the ocean with the human-made stuff found along these coastline areas.
I’m interested in exploring how the sun, and the storms, and the salt water have an impact on the dwellings, signs, tools, boats, docks, fishing gear, and gathering places of the people who live in proximity to them. I’m searching for truths revealed through the eclectic encounters that occur in these delicate ecotones where complex tourism-economy pressures ceaselessly collide with the fragile habitats of the native species and day-to-day lives of those who call these heavily-marketed destinations home.
The body of work I’m currently creating involves digital collages constructed solely from elements extracted from original photographs I’ve taken. Each piece is limited to 10 high-quality archival prints.
A piece of art you recently created, “hurricane ian. sanibel island, fl.” was juried into the Storm Stories exhibition at the Alliance for the Arts in Fort Myers. Could you share the inspiration behind this artwork and its significance to you?
This artwork, “hurricane ian. sanibel island, fl,” is meaningful to me. It’s almost like a few pages pulled from a visual diary of my personal experience before, during, and after Hurricane Ian. It resonates with the emotional charge and recurring echo of flashbulb memories — evoking the impact, and aftermath of the hurricane. It chronicles pieces of my own Hurricane Ian journey, which I’m certain will look very familiar to others who were navigating similar challenges on Sanibel Island through those turbulent times.
ARTWORK: Eric J. Taubert; hurricane ian. sanibel island, florida.; Aluminum Archival Dye Sublimation (Matte) Print (signed, limited 1/10); 24×24. ACQUIRE NOW (Alliance for the Arts): 239-939-2787
As you look at “hurricane ian. sanibel island, fl.” what emotions or memories does it evoke for you personally?
As my eyes move across this piece, I’m reminded of how quickly and completely the impact from a direct hit by a major hurricane can impact the normal flow of life in a community. It’s about the feelings that surface during those ominous days when you come to learn that one of the most powerful storms in recorded history is on a collision course with your home, your belongings, your loved ones, your neighborhood — basically, your entire reality. How it feels as the onslaught of increasingly alarming hurricane warnings grow more dire as the hours to landfall continue to tick down. The powerlessness of seeing friends lose homes, cars, and jobs. What it’s like to realize that the entire business community, economy, and recognizable identity of a place that intersects with your life in very meaningful ways has been swept away by a natural disaster. It evokes the scope and scale of the challenging journey back to a new normal on Sanibel post-storm.
One striking piece of imagery in this artwork is the black and white coastline with a boat anchored between two storm battered palm trees. Can you tell us more about what we’re looking at…
To me, that depiction is the distillation of my first visit back to Sanibel Island after Hurricane Ian. As you know, the storm damaged the causeway leaving the island inaccessible to cars. With the level of destruction on the island, and having many of the homes and businesses both unoccupied and ripped open to the elements, looting became an issue. Plus there were search and rescue missions and a massive effort of urgent helicopter rescues for people who rode out the storm on the island and were now cut off from the mainland. It took several days for local and national authorities to gain some level of order around the scene. During that time-frame, no one was allowed to return to the island.
When the officials finally allowed residents and business owners to boat to the island, a call to an old friend of mine landed me on a boat with Captain Billy Norris of Pale Horse Fishing Charters. Motoring through the debris-filled Bonita Springs waterways on our way to the Gulf of Mexico and witnessing the extent of the damage was both surreal and emotional. The mangroves and canals were littered with everything: boats, cars, clothes, appliances, doors, a king sized mattress, a laundry basket, an entire hot tub, stand up paddle boards, you name it.
When we eventually arrived at the water surrounding Sanibel, it was like some type of big budget disaster movie. Helicopters overhead. Barges delivering heavy equipment. Boats full of home and business owners desperate to take stock of what had actually happened to their places and belongings on the island. Police teams patrolling.
The reason I was heading over to Sanibel was to take some photos of The Blue Dolphin, a small beach cottage resort, where my wife Charlene is the General Manager, located on a secluded stretch of West Gulf Drive.
We passed by Sanibel Island Light, which still stood proudly despite losing the lighthouse keeper’s quarters and one of its legs in the storm. Along the way, we witnessed the unimaginable devastation suffered by the beachfront resorts.
When we arrived at our destination, the stretch of beach was almost unrecognizable. All of the lush tropical landscaping, dune-line vegetation, and trees were gone. Nowhere to be found. The Blue Dolphin, built in 1958 – before the causeway was even constructed, was now just a pile of rubble.
I stood in silence on the boat for a moment, gazing out at the wreckage before plunging into shoulder-deep, toxic, debris-filled waters with a camera bag over my head. The thwup-thwup-thwup of news and rescue helicopters filled the sky. It felt like I was some type of National Geographic war correspondent, wading ashore.
That imagery you’re asking about is the first image I captured, standing on the beach, looking back at Captain Billy’s Pale Horse Fishing Charters boat; before I turned around and ventured into the perilous debris-strewn terrain. There’s something calm, but also vaguely apocalyptic about that image. This was how I returned to Sanibel Island after Hurricane Ian.
PHOTO: Eric J. Taubert; pale horse: post hurricane ian charter | blue dolphin, sanibel island, florida
PHOTO: Eric J. Taubert; sanibel island light after hurricane ian.
Why did you decide to include this old Sanibel ferry schedule as part of the piece?
This pre-causeway Sanibel Island Ferry Schedule was something I found in the wreckage at the scene of the Blue Dolphin during my first trip back to Sanibel. Odd to find such a completely unexpected, and poignantly apropos, piece of vintage ephemera seemingly placed for me to discover amidst the rubble of one of Sanibel’s original cottage resorts. Remember, Hurricane Ian had washed away parts of the causeway and this was the first time since the Causeway had been built that it was necessary to ferry over by boat once again as the only means to access the island.
This is one of those happenings that always seem to take place after a hurricane, the serendipitous discovery of something profoundly meaningful among the storm debris. It hints at an order underlying the chaos of the moment.
For those who weren’t on Sanibel after Hurricane Ian, can you discuss these sentences you’ve included as part of the composition of “hurricane ian. sanibel island, fl.”
Yes, this piece also pulls us through those post Hurricane Ian days, once the causeway had temporary repairs in place, when residents and business-owners were finally able to drive through the checkpoints and back to the island as long as we had City of Sanibel issued Hurricane passes hanging from our rear-view mirrors.
I’m not certain who did it, but all across Sanibel there were spray-painted messages of hope written on large pieces of debris. They all appeared to have been painted by the same hand. Standing on an island, surrounded by decimation, those positive affirmations were like glimmers of healing light. I took photographs of some of those messages and integrated them here.
These were also the days of the huge debris piles, 10 and 15 feet high lining every single major road on Sanibel. At the time, it seemed impossible that it could ever be cleaned up. In the bottom right corner, you can see part of the area at Periwinkle Way and Purdy Drive where they brought much of the debris to be stored and moved around by construction vehicles before it was all taken off-island.
PHOTO: Eric J. Taubert; hurricane ian debris pile. periwinkle way and purdy drive, sanibel island, florida.
Through your artwork, you’ve documented a pivotal moment in Sanibel’s history. How do you hope your audience will engage with and respond to “hurricane ian. sanibel island, fl”?
I always feel compelled to create. There’s an inner urge leaving me no choice but to document my experiences and my perspective in creative ways. Something impels me to conjure enduring records of moments I witness.
Hurricane Ian changed the landscape of my community, my day–to-day activities, and my thoughts in immeasurable ways. It’s not over yet. This storm has changed places and people for decades. For lifetimes. It’s inevitable that these moments will find their way into my work.
To me, Sanibel Island is an alluring paradox. A primordial landscape, buzzing with tourists. A tropical hideaway where storybook sunsets heal souls, and violent hurricanes destroy property. A cherished corner of Old Florida, in the midst of a modernizing metamorphosis. Where unfettered wildness thrives, even as ecological challenges mount. A dream place where I can explore the boundaries between coastal textures, the rhythm of nature, and the stuff of humankind; and create art that is honest and authentic.
Honestly, I’d be creating this art, even if there was no audience to see it. This is what I do.
For Additional Information
Learn more about Alliance for the Arts: artinlee.org
Learn more about artist Eric J. Taubert: taubertgallery.com
RELATED: Join our BRAND NEW Sanibel + Captiva Island Art + Photography Group
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