Lendon Noe: The Process of Becoming

Written by Trista Havner
Photographed by Cari Griffith

I have been enamored by trees for as long as I can remember. The weeping willow in our yard that sheltered me from the sun as I devoured Judy Bloom novels. The big maple tree in my neighbor’s yard that saw me swing from its flexible branches and break my fall with my right shoulder, landing me in a cast for most of second grade. The canopy of tree branches from so many old and beautiful trees that covered my husband and me as we said our vows to each other on the lawn of First Presbyterian Church. Recently, I was given a book all about trees, redwoods in particular. I learned that trees are vastly more intelligent than most humans understand and that they have a whole life beneath the earth that we likely never consider. We enjoy their fruit but often forget the work it takes to grow. I found myself wondering how small I’d feel standing under the shade of a redwood. Tennessee has no redwoods, but we do have oak trees. Tall and wide with vast root systems that dig deep into the earth, oak trees have long been a symbol of resilience and strength as they withstand weather and time. As I considered the oak tree, I began to see why I was so captivated by them. This tree, with its tendency for growth and strength and protection, reminded me of a woman I know. 

Most oak trees have a nine hundred year life span — three hundred years to grow, three hundred years to live, and three hundred years to mature. In that life cycle, the bark of the oak adapts to the needs of the tree in those three phases of life. The bark starts smooth as the young tree shoots up and grows, laying the foundation for new bark. In the second phase, the bark becomes rough and thickens to protect the tree from the elements and any outside forces that might damage the tree. In its final stages, the tree bark loosens and opens, allowing wildlife to shelter and feed in its crevices. As I was tasked to write an article for this particular journal with the theme of “enduring” in mind, I thought of no better person to feature than Lendon Noe. And I could think of no better metaphor to describe the full and abundant and hard and beautiful life that Lendon is living than the mighty and enduring oak tree. 

As a native Jacksonian, I have known who Lendon Noe is for a long time. I admired her work and commissioned her art for my own home long before I really knew her. After Havner’s moved downtown and added the gallery, Lendon started popping up in my shop and in my life more and more. We have shared conversations over meals and while she painted in the shop, and each time I left her I would always think to myself, “That is a conversation I will remember.” She thinks deeply, takes in every idea and turns it over in her mind until she understands it. She listens well and tells stories that highlight the people and the places that have made her. She speaks kindly and carefully but never takes herself too seriously. I met her over lunch (well, two lunches because neither of us are short on words) to ask her questions about her life, the highs and lows and the ways in which she felt her legacy would be remembered. I wrote it all down and left her, terrified to write this piece because how do you convey enduring qualities about someone you regard so highly? 

Every idea felt too small. And then it hit me: Lendon is an oak tree. 

Lendon’s smooth bark years, the years of her childhood and early adult life, were spent in search — of inspiration, of knowledge, and of a way to reckon with the way the world was changing around her. Lendon grew up in Jackson, in a house her family built on Arlington Avenue between Lambuth Boulevard and Hollywood Drive. At that time, Arlington was a wide expanse of land hosting her family’s house and nothing more. As a child, Lendon leaned more in the direction of a “tomboy” than a southern belle, and her mother encouraged her to be authentically herself. She was multi-faceted and had varying interests and abilities, including basketball and music and reading, always reading. She did not conform to the societal norm of the traditional 1950s, and literature and her love of folk music (which centered around the counterculture movement of the 1960s) further impressed upon her ideals of independence and intellectualism.  She found that she was artistically inclined at an early age and loved pouring over Mad and Life magazines as inspiration for her art, finding the most inspiration in cartoons and advertisements. (She attributes her use of negative space in her art to a specific Volkswagen Beetle advertisement in a Life Magazine.) Despite there being no art program in K-12 schools in Jackson at the time, she entered and won every poster design contest and grew her artistic skills.

After her high school graduation, she left Jackson for Winter Park, Florida, to attend Rollins College and major in English Literature. She loved the proximity to the coast and the interdisciplinary nature of the program. It was at Rollins that Lendon began to see connections between previously unrelated ideas, and her brain began to hardwire that ability to find relationship. Her college years were colored by the Vietnam War and the protests of the counterculture movement, and those feelings she felt as a girl of resistance began to find a home and left a lasting impact on her thinking about education and art. Lendon would graduate from Rollins in 1972 with a degree in English Literature and Art, spend a year at a fabulous program in Denver where she studied live models and the human form, and earn a master’s degree in Art Education from the University of Tennessee at Knoxville before coming back to Jackson to teach art at the Old Hickory Academy.

These smooth bark years of growth and personal discovery allowed Lendon to build a foundation of deep knowing of herself, letting what she did not need slide off and laying the bedrock for new bark.

Lendon never intended to stay in Jackson. But an opportunity came along to be the first paid Executive Director of the Jackson Arts Council, and she simply could not pass it up. That, coupled with getting married and having a son and aging parents who were still in Jackson, kept Lendon home. These were her rough bark years. As she navigated her professional and personal life, she began to form tough bark that protected and insulated her from the hardships of adult life. There were untold moments of joy, but life has a way of hardening our bark, and Lendon is no exception. 

After stepping down from her director position with the arts council after the birth of her son, Lendon worked in the schools as a K-6 art teacher before joining the staff at Lambuth University in the art department full-time in 1985. There, she created curriculum heavily influenced by her days at Rollins in interdisciplinary studies, and pioneered many new courses and opportunities for her students, including graphic design by introducing the first computer in the department and creating junior and senior courses centered around problem-solving through reading, writing, and art. Lendon pushed her students to develop their own ideas and interpretations, to distinguish fact from opinion and to recognize bias, all skills she is artful at herself. She also earned a Master of Fine Arts in painting and mixed media, which heavily influenced her own art and teaching as she learned from artists from programs all over the country. She taught painting and drawing and was a pillar of the department. 

As I sat and listened to her recount her days at Lambuth, I could feel her love and sincerity. She still feels a connection to the place and the people that is real and deep. As I listened to her explain the years after Lambuth closed, the contrast was stark. She grieved the loss of this time and space, calling this period in her life the “saddest she has ever experienced.” She poured so much of herself into those years and suddenly losing a place she loved so dearly caused her bark to form thick and rough. Her tree had grown, its core strong and roots deep, but her bark served as a protection from forces beyond her control.

But Lendon was resilient. In those years post-Lambuth, as she had to find ways to survive as an aging artist, she entered into her mature bark years — still rough and thick, but loosening. After losing her studio at Lambuth in 2011, Lendon was offered a studio in the old Griffin funeral home, which she gladly accepted. She worked from that studio until 2018, when she began to build her own home studio, which she operates out of currently. All the while, she taught workshops and made art while she pieced together what she wanted this next chapter in her life to look like. She attributes the Jackson community for literally helping her survive those early post-Lambuth years through signing up for workshops, offering her space to work, commissioning art, and hosting shows for her. Again, I could sense the sincerity in her voice when she explained that “the community truly kept (her) afloat and stepped up to help when (she) was struggling most.”

Because of this support, she has created meaningful bodies of work in this last decade and a half, through her work for the bicentennial and the Rockabilly portraits that our community will forever cherish. Though not in a classroom, Lendon is always teaching and offering pieces of herself, and her art beckons that her audience look and really see. And that is what loose bark of an oak tree does! In its maturing, it loosens and cracks wider to allow wildlife to nest and feed in its bark, protected from whatever hopes to harm it. The bark offers respite and care and a safe space to rest. If you know Lendon, this could not be more true of her. She has offered me, time and time again, a safe space to open and marvel and question with no fear of judgment. Her loose bark is a beautiful outward sign of the work and growth that has taken place within.

As I wrapped up our two-part interview, I asked Lendon what she hoped her legacy would be. How would she want to be remembered? She struggled to give an answer to such a complex and comprehensive question. How do you sum up a lifetime of being and doing? Again, Lendon is like the mighty oak. Does an oak tree know that its branches will provide shade to generations? Does it know that its wood is the perfect building material, strong and lasting, even after it falls? No. But it is compelled to keep growing. This is the part of the metaphor that rings the most true for Lendon. She is compelled to grow, committed to the process of becoming. Her legacy is one of enduring things, and it will echo for many Jackson generations through our ability to see and question and respond with care, skills she has taught and modeled her entire life. She has continued to reach towards the light and dig roots deep into our community, and in doing so, has created a haven for discovery and reflection, the very concepts that propel communities toward necessary change that make a place more inclusive and thoughtful. Like an oak, she has quietly grown tall and strong, and we will sit under her shade for generations.