They were Irish twins, separated by a mere 13 months and yet they had a relationship that could be candid. “He wasn’t ever afraid to tell me what he thought,” Alice Watford said of her brother, Mark. Alice and Mark loved Galveston, Mark maybe even more than Alice. When he was 11, he would hitchhike to Galveston from Bay City to spend the afternoon in the Strand doing pencil drawings of the magnificent Galvestonian architecture. It was the detail that drew him to these spectacular edifices that brought up so many questions as to how these buildings were erected.
In an era long before the convenience of modern machinery and the roar of combustible engines, these majestic structures emerged, each stone resonating with tales from a time now forgotten. Drawn from the distant quarries of Llano, Texas, the limestone was allegedly transported over miles of rugged terrain. Yet, as one gazes upon the intricate carvings and towering façades, a question lingers with an echo of mystery: How did hands of flesh and bone, unaided by the marvels of technology, bring such wonders into being? Who, or what, truly shaped these edifices that seem to defy the reasonable limits of their time?
Mark found himself captivated, drawn in by the intricate dance of questions that stirred the artist within him. As he guided his pencil across the page, each stroke became a journey towards answers that lingered somewhere in the shadows of his mind. Mark was an old soul with a heart forever tethered to Galveston. The Queen of the Gulf had sung to him since that first visit, when his mother, driven by love and desperation, brought him to this isle of whispering dreams in search of healing. She sought not just to mend his fragile body but to rekindle the fire of his spirit, hoping the salt air and sunlit shores would breathe life anew into her ailing son. And indeed, Mark fell under the island’s enchanting spell.
At the age of eleven, Mark began sketching a house, one that resided not in the world he knew but deep within his imagination. He had never seen this house, yet its presence felt as real as any memory. It beckoned him with an inexplicable familiarity, as if it were a fragment of another life calling him back. His sister Alice recounted how he completed this drawing, placing it in a space where it would live at the forefront of his dreams. There it stayed, a constant companion, as Mark gazed upon it with the hope that someday he would reside in the very home that had captured his youthful heart.
The journey of life often unfolds with twists and turns, and for Mark, the path did not originally lead to Galveston as a place of permanence. His years in San Francisco, shared with his partner Matt Hannon, were a vibrant chapter written against the backdrop of the city’s fog-kissed hills. Yet, the call of Galveston could not be silenced, and it resonated through his soul like a symphony demanding a return.
When destiny called, Mark found himself back on the island with a mission to discover a place where dreams could nest in the warm embrace of reality. Thus, his search for a sanctuary began, until he stumbled upon The Big House. It stood there, an echo of past grandeur, worn and weary from neglect. Mark felt its sadness, hesitated at the thought of making it their own.
In that pivotal moment, Alice stepped into her role as the catalyst, wielding the familial magic of prompting movement with a knowing smile. Her words cut through hesitation, infused with love yet carrying the bite of challenge: “Mark, if you don’t buy this house I will!”
With her prompting, a spark ignited within Mark, a flame of resolve that steered his hand to the checkbook. Fueled by the strength of family ties and dreams woven into every fiber of his being, he claimed The Big House—a sanctuary where he and Matt could breathe life into its storied walls with new chapters of love and aspiration.
Mark found his footing quickly in the vibrant art scene of Galveston, a world eager for his vision and skill. He poured his creative spirit into crafting commemorative pieces that celebrated the soul of the island—a Texas Hero’s Monument titled “A Tribute to Victory” and vivid portrayals of local color in works such as the 1992 Galveston Mardi Gras poster, “Masks,” and the 1995 Silk Stocking Ball poster. He even ventured into the whimsical realm of children’s stories with an unpublished book. Mark was a visionary, a creator whose eyes saw the world not in mere hues, but in the infinite spectrum of possibility, captured lovingly through the prism-colored lens of his imagination.
The Big House was Mark’s anchor in the ever-shifting sands of life. Often, he’d confide in Alice about the spirit that dwelled within its walls—a presence he conversed with beneath the quiet of starlit nights. Those who knew it could sense its power; Adi’s mom herself would reach across the miles to communicate with its essence whenever distance kept her from its embrace. Mark and Matt made this house their home, nurturing it with love and dedication until the day fate changed its course. After Mark’s untimely passing, claimed by the relentless grip of AIDS in 1996, Adi’s mom would inherit the safekeeping of its legacy.
For Mark and Matt, the Big House became a cherished endeavor, a true labor of love. Together, they breathed new life into its neglected splendor. Their dedication unveiled the grand staircase, which had long been concealed beneath layers of paint. With meticulous care, they stripped it back to its original majesty, revealing a beauty that rivaled any on the island.
The Big House, in its quiet grandeur, holds a spirit all its own. Unseen, it waits with patient purpose, capturing the hearts of those who enter, not releasing them until they’ve contributed their own chapter to its living story. Mark’s tale unfolds not only in memory but in the exquisite pencil sketches he left behind—a collection still vibrant and evocative.
This week, Alice, residing just three doors down and ever the proud sister, invited us to witness Mark’s legacy firsthand at his gallery showing during Galveston’s Art Week, hosted at ACCT on Tremont Street. In this way, Mark’s spirit continues to speak, drawing others into the world he so vividly brought to life.
Alice, steadfast in her devotion, has gathered every piece of Mark’s artwork she could find, each stroke a lifeline to the spirit that fueled his creative soul. On the opening day of his exhibit, Adi, Brennon (a name thus altered to guard his privacy), and I stepped into a world shaped by Mark’s vision. Up close, his work commanded attention, each detail painstakingly rendered, drawing intrigue and admiration. Mark’s essence poured from every line, imbued with a foresight that seemed to whisper of mysteries just beyond the grasp of ordinary understanding.
Among the collection, one piece captivated me entirely. It depicted a mermaid, her hand outstretched, as a dove soared toward a radiant light reminiscent of the sun. Adi’s mother, affectionately dubbed Morticia from the Addams Family, had always fancied herself a mermaid—a whimsical touch that echoed in the artwork before us. In fact, all through The Big House tributes to a mermaid life can be seen through this Old Lady.
As Adi we looking at the drawing, she reminded me of a sign her mom gave her, “When my mom passed, I told you that whenever I see a dove, it’s her way of urging me to look after the family’s well-being and health. I really feel my mom wants me to help Gomez and the sisters.” I certainly couldn’t deny this. I remember quite clearly her mentioning this sign soon after her mother passed. The memory surfaced, and I found myself contemplating the profound connection—a bridge between the ethereal and the tangible, shaped by love and legacy.
Alice, with a voice laced with memory, shared more of Mark’s story. Beneath the vivid imagery of the mermaid and the ascending dove, Mark had inscribed the names of friends who had ventured into the vast expanse beyond life—those that have passed to the Great Beyond. The first name on this poignant list was David. With a shiver of recognition, I saw the threads binding Mark’s visions: a mermaid, a dove, and the name I shared with his passed friend. Was it prescience, some deep intuition that guided Mark to foresee future custodians of the home? Was he leaving this message embedded in his art? Only Mark would truly know.
As we stood amidst the vivid echoes of Mark’s work, Alice revealed a discovery that shone with mystic brilliance. “You know,” she said, her eyes holding worlds, “I found the drawing Mark did when he was just eleven. It was the house of his dreams. When I looked at it, I knew instantly—it was The Big House.
Mark envisioned his future home years before he ever set eyes on it.” In this revelation, everything seemed to align, illuminating the profound depth of Mark’s connection to the universe’s mysteries. To know Mark was to understand that the power of manifestation dwelled within the mind’s quiet recesses.
I feel Mark in the house. I certainly feel Morticia. Their spirit pervades every pour of this house and their legacy lives on in the walls. This house, with its ancient soul, held a power Mark understood and Morticia not only understood but openly celebrated. As I tread the stairs of this home each day, I feel its whispers and its silent demand, “You are but a caretaker. One day your story will be etched here. What legacy do you choose to inscribe?”
Mark’s spirit is woven into his art, his legacy a living testament etched across canvas and stone. He passed the torch to Morticia, who transformed the home into a sanctuary of her artistic spirit, her unique vision adorning every curve and corner. In the lineage of this home’s guardians, I hold deep reverence for Mark and Matt, Morticia and Gomez and all those that have come before them—all stewards bestowed with the grace to dwell within its timeless embrace.
While we merely borrow our time upon history’s canvas, Adi and I carry our responsibility with sincere reverence. The house endures; its walls echo with memories, while its spirit persists eternal. Mark’s art tells a story—the chapter titled, “Mark and Matt, the Artist and the Craftsman.”
This immortal exhibit of Mark’s brilliance continues until January 12, 2025, at 707 23rd Street, Galveston, Texas. Come, and let his legacy stir your soul.