Survivors of the Flood During the weekend of May 1st, 2010, Nashville, Tennessee was hit by the worst flooding in living memory. I've been a veteran of basement floods for 15 years, experiencing over 5 feet of water in our finished basement, which for many years served as my art studio. But nothing could have prepared me for the devastation that was waiting for me at my current studio, my live/work space, which was located on Second Avenue and Demonbreun Street in downtown Nashville. The flood waters downtown, largely comprised of sewer water and river water, entered the apartment complex Sunday afternoon. I was out of town, in Arizona, doing Herman related book events with Jamina. My wonderful neighbor, Harold, called me and asked if there was anything he could do for me. The only thing I could think to tell him was that the original paintings for Herman were on the floor, in a box labeled Herman's Journey. I asked him to put the box on my sofa, to keep it from getting wet. No one expected the trickle to turn into a deluge. But less than an hour later, residents were evacuated from waist-deep water. The flooding continued throughout the night, and by morning, over six feet of water stood in the building, the parking lot and the surrounding neighborhood.



I returned Monday afternoon and drove downtown, anxious beyond words. Many streets were blocked and I parked blocks away and walked towards the studio. I couldn't get my bearings as I approached my neighborhood - there were no streets, only water. I sat at the edge of this lake and gazed at my studio window three blocks away. It was awesome, devastating and overwhelming. I realized that my life as I knew it had been irrevocably altered. My home, my office, my art, my life existed in that space and had for the past seven years. I loved my studio, and I've never felt so at home, or at peace, anywhere else. Although recent changes (like a huge skyscraper outside my window) had impacted my light and my view and had caused me to consider a change, whenever I thought about moving, I considered how much stuff I had and how difficult it would be to move it all - and who enjoys moving, even under the best of circumstances.

The deep water downtown persisted for five days; five hot, sunny days. No one could get near Market Street Apartments and there was no way to check on the status of things left behind. I was certain that nothing had much of a chance, especially the delicate watercolor originals. Six feet of water would have submerged the sofa, causing the paint to slide off the paper which would disintegrate into a pulpy mush.

Finally, on Friday, May 7th, we were able to get into the building. My amazing friend and student, Bud Wynn, insisted on coming to help me, bringing his trailer, waders, boots and an attitude of "we'll get through this, and it's going to be hard, but you will be ok." It was hugely comforting and just thinking of his kindness brings tears to my eyes. My brother, David, agreed to come and be the official photographer. I got to the space first and donned mask and gloves and went in.

I couldn't believe the destruction. There was no electricity and the entry to my studio is windowless and dark. As I opened the door, I saw debris everywhere. The refrigerator had toppled over, it's contents scattered throughout the hallway. The stench was overwhelming - five days of stewed sewage. I made my way through the muck and the mess, into the main area. This has always been something of a joy, emerging from the dark hallway into my light-filled studio, with 9 foot windows and 15 foot ceilings. Once more I felt joy at the light, but the chaos and displacement were disorienting. The sofa was across the room from it's previous spot, the flat files were standing at a precarious angle, having landed on top of a step stool. Paper, paint, supplies, books - everything was wet, dirty and stinky. But there was a miracle, actually several miracles, awaiting me.

Sitting on the sofa was the Herman's Journey box. I picked it up and gingerly opened it. The cardboard box fell apart in my hands, but inside, the paintings were nestled in their folder, and the edges were barely damp. I couldn't believe it; I was amazed. How did they survive? The sofa must have floated, and absorbed much of the water. The box took the brunt, but the paintings were fine.

The second miracle was sitting on the flat file, poised at an angle. My prayerbook, the one I've used to create all my prayer paintings and the one from which we delivered Herman's prayer, was sitting on the corner, completely dry, along with a sketchbook with the mourner's kaddish clipped to the front.

The third miracle was hanging on the back of my closet. The day before I left for Arizona, I bought two new tops, one white and one in Herman green. I was sure they would be ruined, as my bedroom was also submerged. They were still in the plastic bag. I carefully lifted the bag, which had a visible mud line. The tops were clean and dry. Absolutely impossible, but they were.

The salvage and rescue operation took three trips over the next four days, and my angels were out in full force. Bud led the pack, coming Friday and Saturday; Lita and Mike, Beverly and Kelly, Eva, Russ and Thomas, all pitched in with strong hands, big hearts and shining souls to pull what they could from the wreckage. I felt surrounded, supported, enveloped, by love. I have never been so grateful for the gift of friends. Laura, Michelle, Wallace and Rachel pitched in on Sunday to sanitize, clean and sort the artwork I was able to salvage. I cannot express my gratitude for all of these people, as well as the many people who called, emailed, and checked in with me to see how I was doing and to offer help, solace and resources.

I am doing fine. In fact, better than fine. Although challenging, this has been one of the best two weeks of my life. The miracles, the gifts of love, the outpouring of support and the connection between people has made the challenges far less overwhelming. I feel buoyed by love, swept along in the current of human kindness. I lost so many of my material possessions, but gained a renewed faith in the universe, in the divine nature of all things. I am grateful beyond measure. I will begin my life anew, with less stuff, but more life.

sending all of you infinite love, boundless blessings and supreme gratitude,
Kaaren

p.s. I'll keep you posted on where I will be next. For now, you can reach me on my cell phone (615) 943-155 or by email kaaren@kaarenengel.com

more images can be viewed in the About section, under studio.