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Monday, June 13


Yes,I know. I promised to blog again. I blame Facebook. There is instant gratification in the immediacy of sharing your wisdom with your community in a nanosecond. But I have been moved now by Lin-Manuel Miranda and his sonnet about the Orlando shootings. And I am also moved by the people that touch my heart while I am being an artist in my little tent on a street near you.
 I thought that a good way to breathe life into my art show blog would be to feature my favorite encounter, buyer or browser or schmoozer, from each show. It would be sort of a kick starter, get me writing again.

 I did a Spring show in East Aurora, a well off, historic, art friendly suburb. The show was held in the Knox mansion, and we all set up in the different rooms of this amazing estate that is now a State Park. I was in the master bedroom, in front of the massive fireplace, right near a door that was a moveable bookcase.

Pretty cool. I don't expect much of Spring shows. They are primarily a way to get the kinks out, remember how it all works, get the juices flowing, maybe try out a new widget. I had friends in the room with me, and many others in the halls and bedrooms and kitchen of the mansion. I was content to be there, loving the surroundings, not expecting much.

 Then a lady came up to me, holding one of my new collages. It had a quote worked into it that read "Life takes us to many places, love brings us home". She was a tiny thing, probably no more than 4'11" tops. She was wearing a beautifully tailored tomato red wool jacket that was great with her silver hair. Turns out she had decided, at the age of 82, to sell her long time home and move back to the small town where she was born. Her husband was gone, kids lived in other places, her friends were starting to fade away and she wanted no part of that. So, she grabbed her life by the neck and took control of it. There were few people she knew left in that small town, but it didn't matter. "I'll make friends", she said with a soft smile and shiny eyes.

 I told her I was amazed by her courage, that I could not imagine leaving everything I knew and starting again. "But life is all about starting again" she assured me. And she loved my collage which would hang in her new home.

 Every so often, usually after a long night of finishing work at the last minute for a show the next morning, or after struggling with the heavy steel poles of our tent, I think "why in the name of God am I doing this?" Sometimes the answer comes from a nice profit, or a ribbon. Sometimes the answer is in the vision of a tiny silver haired lady in a bright red jacket hanging one of my pieces on the wall of her new life. It is enough. It is more than enough.