All of the animals left the inferno and retreated to a safe place to watch. They were transfixed. They stood and felt helpless as they watched their forest burning.
Except for a hummingbird. Hummingbirds are tiny creatures, but this one was exceptionally small. The hummingbird watched the fire and said to herself, "I am going to do something about this terrible thing." So, she flew to a nearby stream, chose a slow-moving area near the shore and scooped up a small drop of water in her beak. Then she flew to the burning forest and dropped her small drop of water onto the flames and flew back to the stream, where she scooped up another small drop of water and flew back to the fire, dropped her small drop of water on the flames and flew back to the stream. She flew back and forth as fast as she could.
The other animals stood by in amazement, as they watched her fly to the fire with her small drop of water and go back to the stream for more. Still, the animals watched the fire, and they watched the hummingbird as she flew back and forth and back and forth, over and over again, even the pelicans with their fleshy beak pouches and the kangaroos with their belly pouches and the flying squirrels with their leggy pouches. Even the elephant with his trunk.
And, eventually, they said to the hummingbird, "You are so small and your drops of water are so small and what do you think that you are doing and what do you think that you can do? The fire is so big and you are so small."
And, the hummingbird barely paused in flying to the stream and scooping up her small drop of water and replied to the other animals, "I am doing the best I can."
The exhibit opened on Friday and it was the uneven success that those things always are. The visitors to the gallery are there because they are invested in the art community or are interested in art in general or they know one of the exhibiting artists, or various combinations of those. As co-curator of this show, part of my responsibility was to greet people, share information about the artists and their work, and assist them in viewing the pieces if that is what they wanted. Quite frankly, I did a fine damn job of it. The building is for sale and when anyone expressed admiration for that 115-year-old space I asked them if they were interested in living downtown. It turned out to be my own, personal amusement for the evening and I had some truly wonderful conversations as a result of that sassy question.
I received lots of nice feedback on my pieces, and the people who hated my stuff or found it ridiculous were nice enough to keep it to themselves. Bless their hearts. Saturday brought a conversation with someone I really respect, one of the best artists that I know. She has known me since before I started exhibiting and she told me that she likes the new direction my work has taken. What she does not know is that I have no new direction, that this is an entirely scratch start for me. I left all that other stuff behind, just as if it was a previous life. At first, I did not know what she meant, because I feel disconnected from that older work. I am guessing that the people who collected that stuff might not be so thrilled to hear that I feel that way, but it is what it is.
A few friends surprised me by stopping by and my daughter came down from her northerly city. We did not run out of food or beverages, although person #1 allowed the under-age friends of his children to drink alcohol, which I did not discover until the evening was over. Good fucking grief. Even better is that Person # 2 disappeared halfway through the evening with person #3, and all three of them had more responsibility for the running of the opening than I did, yet felt perfectly comfortable doing whatever the hell they wanted to do. There seems to be some kind of new rulebook for artists since I was last part of the scene. I do not know, maybe the ones about how you can do whatever you like without regard to other people have always been a part of this. Perhaps it is like that for everyone, and just not the people that I have been around lately. Do I live such a small life that I do not already know about this? Well, I kind of know it now. It also kind of bugs me that people who should be setting the standards for behavior have no apparent sense of responsibility. That is too freaking disturbing to me.
Apparently I am a clueless babe-in-the-woods, because person #2 informed me yesterday that he does this sort of thing all the time, that the marital status of either party is irrelevant if the 'encounter' is kept casual and only extends to drinks and lengthy, meaningful conversation and breathlessly fond glances, all of which he had enjoyed the evening before. I wonder how his wife and her husband would feel about that. Anyway, he and she turned up one full hour past closing time, whilst I was babysitting person #3’s older sister. I was not amused, but she, the sister, was totally pissed. I have to say that despite my advanced age, there is a world of things about the world and its people about which I know nothing. Yes, that is me...clueless...and not sure exactly how I feel about that. I mean, I had the notion that most of the people in this rarefied atmosphere wanted to feel sophisticated or hip or cool and groovy or something. Not me, I guess. Or maybe it is just those men of a certain age and association with the arts, guitars and wives that are as clueless as I am. All I know is that it makes me feel funny in my tummy and all that jazz.
Making the art was divine. To be lost in that pleasure is, gosh, it is so wonderful. Beginning begins with thinking about what I want to do, and that can take a stunningly long time, just for the ideas to percolate and take some kind of doable advance form, and the piece actually begins in that moment when the idea is born. Then the gathering of materials and I just plunge in and allow the piece to go where it is supposed to go, and when I reach that point, I simply go along for the ride until the work informs me that it is finished. So it was for these pieces.
Maybe only a single percent of the work I begin ends up completely different from my original thoughts. It is the fire in my belly that creates the road, where a stream runs alongside. That is on the wordy, goofy and pretentious side of metaphor, but I actually saw it. I was so far up and I looked down and saw that I was moving above a macadam road, trees sparsely peppering the sides and the narrow, vaguely shimmering water, straight, both road and stream running true to my path, like fellow travelers, joining forces for some distant thing. Someday I will hold that image in my hand as well as my heart. Until then, I just have to close my eyes.
I may have shared that I have not exhibited in at least six years. I have an excellent memory, and I do remember feeling weird and excited and maybe a little fearful prior to my first show, but I do not remember a crash afterwards. And, I sort of had that this time. Because of the horndog person #2, I arrived home too late to get any decent sleep and awoke still needing sleep, but I went to Saturday coffee anyway. The breakfast was so-so, not horrible, but I still should have stayed home because I was snippy with one of the coffee babes. Crap. These are my friends and I was snippy. I suck. I do not even want to see them next time, I am too ashamed.
So, anyway, I will be making more art and am hoping to have enough for another exhibit this year, at lease a dozen pieces. I can do it in relative isolation, the only other person here, where I live, does not talk to me.
Do the thing that scares you. The chances are that no one else will get it.
So be it.
With spades.
Anyway, this is my attempt to insert photographs into a posting. Here goes. These are the four pieces that I had in the show.
Ooops, I have to edit here because I did not title these or say anything about them.
Rumors
Your art is absolutely intriguing -- very eclectic!
ReplyDeleteThanks. It keeps me out of trouble. Sometimes.
ReplyDelete