Second helpings in Bell Buckle
More art, more stories, and one unforgettable lunch
Last time, I left you in Bell Buckle, where my Pinterest-fueled birthday bash was popping off. My mom squad, nine moms bonded by our twenty-something kids, was jonesing for coffee, trading quips with llama-trekking Bay Boys, and fan-girling over Tennessee’s poet laureate.
Buckle up for part two: antebellum shops, art that broke us, food that sang, and a statue that looked right through us.
We spilled from the coffee shop to Bell Buckle’s antebellum antique stores, swooning over retro treasures like kids at a bounce house. I’d trade my soul to own one, y’all. Those shops are Pinterest boards come to life. Jennifer, our quilting-sewing-crocheting-knitting-costuming queen, was in heaven, eyeing vintage fabrics.
We bounced between stores, cackling like we’d raided the Moon Pie stash, when the Bay Boys (Legionnaires? Deadheads? Now claiming a competitive yodeling camp, or maybe a pirate-themed escape room) pointed us to Russ Faxon’s studio across the tracks.
Sculpting stories in Russ Faxon’s modern art studio
Stepping into Russell Faxon’s studio in Bell Buckle, Tennessee, felt like a SoHo gallery had landed in the heart of Moon Pie country. The circa 1900’s building, with its 14-foot ceilings, bronze sculptures on pedestals, and light streaming through tall, railroad-era windows, hummed with creative energy. Faxon, born in Independence, Missouri and raised in Bowling Green, Kentucky, welcomed us with a warmth that made the space feel like home.
His storytelling drew us in. After earning a B.A. in art education from Western Kentucky University in 1973, following a football scholarship at Memphis State, Faxon taught in Nashville schools from 1974 to 1976. But his passion lay elsewhere.
He spent months in Italy sculpting at the Mariani Foundry in Pietrasanta, mastering the “lost wax” bronze casting process and soaking in the work of the Masters. Those experiences deeply shaped his craft. Back in the U.S., he exhibited widely before settling in Bell Buckle in 1979 as the Webb School’s resident artist.
Faxon’s creative process blends precision and soul. From sketching and molding clay models to guiding each piece through lost wax casting, he crafts everything from tabletop figures to monumental sculptures.
His sculptures, like the Minnie Pearl and Roy Acuff statues for the Ryman Auditorium, or the life-sized Chet Atkins outside the Bank of America building, capture the essence of their subjects. His art graces collections across the U.S. and Europe, from the Green Hills Library and Tennessee Performing Arts Center to corporate giants like Lloyds of London and Cracker Barrel Inc., as well as public works like the Korean War Memorial of Tennessee.
But it was Faxon’s kindness that stole the day. As we posed for a group photo, he slipped into his office and returned with a small jewelry box. Inside was a silver dancer pendant necklace, a miniature of one of his sculptures. Without fanfare, he placed it in my hand—a gesture so generous, so understated, it left me speechless. That tiny pendant, a token of his art and heart, was the highlight of my day.
Since then, every glimpse of Faxon’s work around Nashville whether at the Ryman or the library, sparks a photo snapped for our group chat, a nod to that day and the sculptor who shared his world with us.
Pull up a chair and pass the hoecakes
Lucky for us, we’d unofficially saved a spot for our crew of nine or ten, which is no small feat at a famous spot like this.
Lunch at the famous Bell Buckle Cafe was a madhouse, but chef’s kiss. I scarfed fried okra, lima beans, cranberry congealed salad, hoecakes, and chicken pot pie. Others got meatloaf and catfish, but the dessert?
THE grits cake, people! Creamy, sweet, with cool whip and strawberries, it’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten. I’d sell my car for another bite. Here’s the recipe.
What possibly more could we do?
Well, we chased another Bay-boy tip to a mosaic house in the countryside. The owner, a retired Nashville teacher, built it through breast cancer and losing two adult kids. Every inch sparkled—a Pinterest board called “Guts.” It’s for sale, if you’re artsy.
We wrapped at the Webb School, Tennessee’s oldest boarding school, where I’d cheered my son’s lacrosse games back when. Goldenrod fields glowed like a Pinterest fever dream, and we found a few brick beauties, antebellum buildings whispering 1870s vibes. Then we saw Russ’s statue of Mr. Webb. Those bronze eyes were so real, we froze.
Is he… staring at us?
Every mom gasped: “How is Russ this good?” It wasn’t creepy but just so lifelike, the sculpture felt in on the joke. Like he’d been listening to us cackle all day.
Happy endings and plenty more to come
So yes, we made it eventually to Bell Buckle. Full of charm, fried pies, porch-sitting wisdom, and the kind of laughter only old friends and group texts gone rogue can deliver. It was everything I didn’t know I needed.
And to think, it all started with a few Bay Boys tossing out sightseeing recommendations like it was no big deal (but we all know better).
The birthday ripples reached farther than expected. One name popped up… then vanished like a typo. Time stamp noted. Maybe the Bay Boys will have a rec for next year’s adventure. We’re all ears.
It was the artist Michael Bush already looking forward to your visit. He is a renowned artist and has a studio where he paints and a barn full of art and his walls are floor to ceiling a fantastic art collection in his rustic home. You are a fantastic writer. Thanks for the memories.
I had no idea how fun Bell Buckle could be - you make it look so interesting! Love the photos and the art, so now I've got to go see the beautiful sculptures and mosaic house for myself one day soon.