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In Outer Banks Restaurants
by Lisa Loy
The bathroom can be a great place for inspiration, or so the great thinker Martin Luther believed. And so it was for me in the ladies room one morning at Sam On Omie's Restaurant in Nags Head. I'd taken a spill while kayaking with my brother Kevin and his wife, and was trying rather unsuccessfully to make myself presentable for breakfast. I knew I would be teased for being in the bathroom so long, brothers being relentless experts at embarrassing sisters. Then I saw it. On the wall, one of Ray Matthews' wonderful photographs was displayed, and I knew I had the perfect retort for Kevin. I was in the restroom for a long time because I was admiring the art!
As I thought more about it, and contrary to popular belief, I came to realize we women haven't been unduly primping as we spend long periods of time behind closed doors. Why, the restrooms of the many restaurants here on the beach contain a veritable treasure trove of paintings, photography, murals and mixed media. Wow! I knew I was on to something. As soon as I returned home, I began calling restaurants. "Yes, hello, may I please speak to the Curator of Bathroom Art?"
hat didn't sound quite right and it obviously wasn't, as confirmed by dial tone on the other end of the line. I decided it might be best to go undercover with this story. The new Hidden Creek Grill in Colington was first on my list. With my camera bag hoisted on my shoulder, I walked in, cleverly disguised as a mother out to dinner with her family. After we had placed our orders I started to rise from the table, only to realize that it might appear strange to the other diners to see a woman walking into the restroom with a camera. In my head, I imagined the comments.
"What's that woman doing?" "Is she from the Health Department?"
"Pervert!" I sat back down and promptly did what any self-respecting mother would do. I handed the camera to my 14-year old son and sent him off to the men's room; unaware as I was that a charcoal nude was in residence. He returned a few minutes later, gave me a good-natured wink, and described the work in more detail than I wanted him to know.
Bolstered by his humor, I ventured into the ladies room to discover that the only work of art on the wall was me! My reflection in a mirror, set off by a lovely frame with hand-painted birds and blossoms. Hence, my self-indulgent, self-portrait. Later, when co-owner Deanna Matthews stepped over to visit our table, we asked her about the nude. She laughed.
"I don't know its origin," she said. "It was here when we moved in, and I could not get it off the wall. Tommy and I both tried, and we finally gave up." Deanna's experience led my thoughts to the Rundown Cafe in Kitty Hawk. They too have a security system in place safeguarding their bathroom art. Deceptively simple and economic, yet so appropriate for an establishment bearing the name, Rundown Caribbean works of art have been screwed to the wall, right through the frames. It demonstrates just the right touch of the primitive to punctuate the island decor. Best of all, these splendid works of art are protected in perpetuity for generations of art aficionados to come. During the next few days we lunched at two Kill Devil Hills restaurants favored by the local business community for their snappy service and fine food. The latest artful offering to catch my eye at Chili Peppers has been applied to the outside of the door to the men's room. Local graphic designer Adam Baldwin, and his lovely wife Cathy, have recently ventured into sprayable metal. They say they're still experimenting with it, but their work has added a very cool dimension to the door. And at Mama Kwan's, the restroom doors have been playfully painted by artist Richard Byrd to fool the eye with a vivid coastal camouflage. It always takes me a few moments locate the door-latch. Funny thing though, once inside there's not a thing on the walls except a sign threatening employees to wash their hands. It is colorfully presented however, so I'll categorize it as literary art. With the magazine's deadline looming, I knew I had to step up the pace and tour several restaurants at once. My dear husband devised a plan whereby we would enjoy an appetizer, a drink, and a bit of socialization at several restaurants, all in one night. I said I'd be the designated driver, working as I was. But it didn't feel like work, it had all the makings of a great date. I highly recommend a multi-restaurant tour, especially now that we have so many splendid establishments that not only see food as art, they see art as art.
Our first call that evening was made to Meridian 42 in Southern Shores. At the bar we devoured the olives, crusty bread and an asparagus bisque with luscious lumps of crab. We were tempted to abort the mission and spend the entire evening there. But resolute, I slid off the bar stool and headed toward the head. The warmth of the Mediterranean sun accentuating Meridian's decor doesn't fade away in the ladies room where still life has been conjured with earthen pastels into pitchers and pots that bake on the walls. Inspired, I was back on track and ready to take in all the bathroom art our restaurants have to offer.
Just south on the Beach Road, the Dons of Ocean Blvd. have displayed some fine examples of winery posters. Although these interesting works give one cause for pause in the upstairs restrooms, especially the Picasso-ish expression of good living produced by Chateau St. Michelle, it was in the ground level, handicapped accessible restroom that I was most affected. Just beyond an unmarked door, a vivid watercolor depicting row upon row of theater masks behind bars made me feel as if all eyes were on me. Any Catholic schoolgirl, me for example, would feel her modesty compromised. Curious, I approached the General Manager, Chris Straub, who said the painting was left behind by the previous owners, John Power and Sam McGann. His response to the painting intensified recently when he discovered, within the menagerie, a tiny masked man! The mysterious object he holds up in his hands probably affected Sam and John too. Perhaps that's why they left it behind. Perhaps they too are Catholic.
Last stop, a visit to Flying Fish Cafe in Kill Devil Hills where we ordered oysters, artfully tossed over spinach pie and remoulade. From previous visits, I already knew I wanted to photograph the wine cork tiled door inside the ladies room (one could spend hours contemplating the array, a testimonial to the extensive wine selection at Flying Fish), but it was the first time I fully appreciated the photograph on the wall, the shadow of a cafe chair. A bit later, when proprietor George Price, a world-traveling soul surfer, joined us at the bar, I asked him about it.
"It's my work," he said. "I was an art major in school. Have you seen the men's room?" Always the perfect host, George indulged me with a personal tour of the men's water closet. I was beyond caring how I might appear to the other diners as I walked into the restroom with a man and a camera. Oh boy, this room is all boy. Several powerful images were captured by George's lens. Most notably, I was drawn to Sebby the Great, a pit bull from Playa Bonita in Costa Rica, who according to George could crush a basketball in ten seconds, and an almost three dimensional effect was created with the photograph of an Israeli surfer's tattooed elbow taken in Hermosa. Hermosa, by the way, means beautiful.
As you can see, I could run on about this topic endlessly, like a leaky tank in need of a new ball stopper. So I'll end it, but with an invitation to let yourself go, literally. The next time you dine out, open the door to the pleasures and inspiration you'll find behind closed doors.
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