THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, June 25, 1995 TAG: 9506220216
SECTION: CAROLINA COAST PAGE: 34 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: Mary Ellen Riddle
LENGTH: Medium: 86 lines
Pat Eure's relationship with art is multifold.
As co-owner of the Ghost Fleet Gallery in Nags Head, she does everything from dealing with artists to selling art, hanging shows, paperwork and cleaning the gallery.
She helps her printmaker husband Glenn in his studio and works to bring to fruition the many ideas that flow from his effervescent mind.
Eure calls her duties nurturing and fondly dubs herself the ``gallery wife.'' But she says the lifestyle isn't for just anyone.
``It's not a relationship for somebody who wants to be the center of somebody's life,'' says the 53-year-old. ``Their artwork is the center of their life, and people who are involved in their lives are on the periphery.''
The periphery has always been a comfortable place for Eure. While other children were riding bikes or swimming, she was comforting the animals at a nearby livestock market or playing school with 16 cats. ``I've always been a coward,'' Eure claims. ``My sister always said I was afraid of my own shadow. I was just always afraid to try.''
Eure never did learn how to ride a bike or swim. She was even too fearful to attend school without her older sister, so they went together and sat side-by-side for years, despite being a year apart in age.
Eure's timidity relegated her to the role of an observer.
But knowing Eure causes one to redefine courage, because her reticent exterior contrasts sharply with an intellect that has always roamed free.
Her plan was to become a missionary until she began pondering the diversity inherent in theology. She found that the concept of God was very personal.
``I saw others' ways were right to them,'' she said. ``How could you put all this diversity into one thing? I wasn't a bit evangelistic.''
When she realized she wasn't cut out to persuade folks to turn their lives over to her Baptist God, she went to work full-time as a secretary.
For 20 years, Eure worked at the same company. She was content. She met many memorable folks, but one of her closest companions was a cat called Timothy.
``Timmy and I were companions for 19 years. She was a terror, sort of. She would bite you in a heartbeat. Everybody was really afraid of her. I think we had a very special relationship.''
Eure is so empathic that after reading a book about a cat getting lost, she closed the passage forever with a stapler.
Around the same time, while in her 20s, her feelings and thoughts took the form of poetry. She wrote of distances between people.
``I wrote four books of poems and just sort of put them away,'' Eure said.
Later in life, some of her most sensitive poems were written while tending to Pelekea, the Eures' Tibetan spaniel. A stroke left the dog an invalid.
Poetry was created during nocturnal nursings. ``We were up with her a lot,'' said Eure. ``I would write while we were up, things that turned out to be about her.''
Her pen spoke of parting when she wrote, ``I'm only dying and I will bring you secrets. The bark on that tree is my skin.''
For two years Eure has chaired the literary arts committee for the annual local ``Icarus'' poetry competition, held in conjunction with a visual art show honoring ``first flight.''
She's also an active member of the North Carolina Writers Network board of trustees and will be acting as a vice president this year.
``I don't know if I'm a writer or a reader or just a listener,'' she said.
Defining herself is not necessary. Eure would rather concentrate not on who she is, but on trying to understand just a part of what it means to be human.
These days she writes of a place called Brymouth Park.
``Brymouth Park is not a particular space in the world or anything,'' she said. ``It's mainly a joyous kind of place. If I keep writing toward it, I may understand it some day.''
Works composed in the Brymouth Park series will soon be illustrated by her husband's prints in a collaborative book the Eures plan to create.
Just as Eure has learned to look for her husband in his art, she can be found in her poetry.
``Like a thousand drops of water, these words pour out and fall down on top of each other,'' writes Eure. ``With so much noise how can the voice find its way?''
``Maybe that's what we're all doing here together,'' said Eure. ``Looking for each other.'' ILLUSTRATION: Photo by MARY ELLEN RIDDLE
At times, Pat Eure's poetry speaks of her profound love of animals.
Eure co-owns an art gallery with her husband, Glenn.
by CNB