Carole Harris, interior designer, artist, collector and self-described
sports junkie, sits across from me at
Twingo's, one of her favorite
neighborhood haunts, explaining in no uncertain terms why a good meal
at an affordable restaurant is such a crucial part of her existence. "I
do not cook," she says.
Harris and her husband, Bill Harris, a creative writing professor at
Wayne State, are regulars at a handful of restaurants—
Traffic Jam & Snug,
The Majestic and
Union Street in Midtown,
Slow's in Corktown, Ghandi
in Hamtramack.
A lifelong resident of Detroit, Harris is thrilled to have so many
options (though we spend a few minutes lamenting the difficulty of
eating healthy in this city). Raised on the West Side, she remembers
when going out to dinner meant dressing up, like you're going to a
concert, just to find a diner to eat dinner at. And back in the early
'70s, when she and her husband were working on a section of an
entertainment city guide, it was nearly impossible to find anything to
fill the pages. No shops, no restaurants, no reasons to come downtown.
"People wouldn't come near Detroit back then, so I'm happy to see all
the action. It's not nearly enough or soon enough, but it's happening,"
she says.
This from a decidedly chic woman—clad in black cashmere and dripping
with chunky silver jewelry—who calls herself the ultimate Detroit
booster. She has lived through the bad-mouthing, the riots, a lot of
false starts—and she's still proud to call Detroit her home. It's not
like she hasn't had the opportunity to split when things got
particularly ugly. Twenty years ago her husband moved to Manhattan for
eight years to pursue his passions as an aspiring poet, playwright and
novelist. But Harris just couldn't part with Detroit. She stayed back,
instead visiting Manhattan, which became her second home, at least a
couple times a month
We each sip a glass of red wine, trying to decide what to order. Last
time, she says, she went with the steak au poivre—"the best meal I've
had in Detroit in a very long time." In the meantime, I learn that her
interior design company,
Harris Design Group, is responsible for
high-profile projects, like
The Vu at Cobo Center, suites at Ford Field,
and five elementary schools in the Detroit Public Schools. Currently,
they're working on the MGM Grand Casino and the
Book Cadillac.
It's hard to believe that back in the early '90s business was so slow
that she had to let all her employees go. She temporarily turned part of her office
into a gallery/shop on the 22nd floor of the David Stott Building — an
unlikely spot for buying one-of-a-kind jewelry and artifacts. "I was
trying to expose people to museum-quality artifacts. I'm interested in
the crafts and artifacts of other cultures. I introduced rain sticks
to the area." Plus, she was paying for the space — and she couldn't
handle just sitting around.
Midway through our conversation, I realize this is a recurring theme: I
don't think Harris ever spends much time "just sitting around." Turns
out, she's also a prolific fiber artist, her nationally recognized
quilts making appearances in traveling exhibits and textile shows
across the country. "They're not like Grandma's," she says. Instead,
Harris's quilts are magnificent works of modern art, set apart by bold
color, unconventional patterns and innovative design.
Her mother taught her how to embroider when she was 6-years-old, and
she learned how to sew in junior high. Growing up, she made all her own
clothes. She became very skilled, although she admits it doesn't really
help her quilting. "If you know how to do a running stitch, you can
make a quilt," she says. "I incorporate all the needlework I learned
throughout the years."
"I like the colors, the feel of cloth in my hand. It was a way to use
up the extra fabric I had in a creative way," she explains. "You have
to remember: I am an artist first." She studied painting in art school
at Wayne State, but was never truly satisfied with the work she was
doing. And towards the end of her schooling, she realized that she
would need to make a living ("hence the degree in interior design").
"I made several quilts before I realized that I was making art," she
says. And it was another ten years before she exhibited one. Now, 17
years later, her quilts have graced the walls of big-name museums like
the Museum of American Folk Art in New York and Washington, D.C.'s Renwick
Gallery—and she was even asked to make a fiber ornament for the White
House Christmas tree during the Clinton administration. ("It looked
like a voodoo doll," she laughs.)
We are finishing dinner (me, the angus burger; Harris, the chicken
confit wraps), when her husband strolls in to see what we're up to. He
orders a cup of gazpacho, and as he enlightens me with his favorite
thing about the city (answer: her), I begin to understand their charmed
life. They both went to Cass Tech High School but didn't know each
other. He wanted to be an artist, she a journalist—but their ambitions
flip-flopped by the time they were both enrolled at Highland Park
Community College, where they eventually met and fell in love. "That's
why I'm her biggest critic and she's my best editor," he says.
Currently living in an Arts and Crafts house in New Center, they're
soon moving to the Park Shelton. They didn't want to leave the
neighborhood, and they'll still be perfectly situated within walking distance to all the
culture they love so much: the DIA, the Detroit Public Library, George
N'Namdi Gallery, and the new MOCAD.
The biggest hurdle of their move will be figuring out how to
transport—and where to put—their impressive art collection. She
collects jewelry, artifacts and boxes; together they have been amassing
works on paper, paintings and textiles, mostly by local artists, for
more than 40 years. They have works by Allie McGhee, Sonya Clark, Brady
Jones, Roman Sanders, a couple paintings and drawings by Charles McGee,
and one of their most prized possessions, a letter and sketch from
Romare Bearden, one of the country's most revered African-American
artists.
They've traveled the country over, eating great food and looking at art (the High
Museum in Atlanta, the Telfair in Savannah, and the de Young in San
Francisco). But when they celebrated their anniversary last year, they
didn't need to go any farther than the Ren Cen, where they stayed the
night, acted like tourists, and celebrated with dinner at
Coach Insignia. After all, says Harris: "There's no place I'd rather be than
right here."
Photos:
Carole Harris
Traffic Jam & Snug
Carole Harris
Wayne State University
Park Shelton
All Photographs Copyright Dave Krieger