Self-taught artists tell stories

• By ROBIN MILLER
• Arts writer
• Published: May 11, 2008 - UPDATED: 12:05 a.m.

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This one is Sandy Dokka’s favorite, the one showing the man in the choir robe playing the upright piano.

The painting is small, but big enough to contain the large woman standing behind the pianist. She’s singing, it’s obvious.

“When I look at this, I can hear her singing,” Dokka said. “Her voice is deep.”

And the piano is slightly out of key, but not so much as to hinder the song. It’s one of those situations where the flaw adds to the ambiance.

Because a perfectly tuned piano just wouldn’t fit into this setting where the wood frame church is heated by a potbellied stove in the winter, where humidity is thick in the summer.

Those conditions will force a piano out of tune really fast. And besides, this isn’t Hollywood, where everything is perfect. It’s the world of Alvin Batiste, where stories are told in the bright colors of his imagination.

Most are stories told by his mother about the way things used to be, some of them stories that were told to her.

But Batiste wasn’t standing beside Dokka last week when she paused in front of his painting “That Boy Sure Can Play.” Now, he was present when she hung the exhibit. It’s her first as a curator for the Arts Council of Greater Baton Rouge, and Batiste presented her with some of his favorite works for the council’s current show, Folkways.

The show features contemporary folk art not only by Batiste but also by quilter Anna Williams and toothpick sculptor Michael Smith. Smith’s work is probably the first piece that grabs visitors’ attention upon entering the arts council’s community gallery.

And don’t assume that the alligator is fragile just because he’s made of some 3 million toothpicks. Yes, you heard right – that’s 3 million, which adds up to some 15 feet and 350 pounds.

Dokka will describe how she stood in shock when Smith stepped atop the alligator after it was unloaded into the gallery. Unloaded is the correct word here, because the ’gator had to be transported from first floor to second by way of a lift.

“And then it usually takes six men to lift it,” Smith will say.

But that’s later.