The art show went well - all things considered - but it was a lot of work. I greatly appreciate all the ones who pitched in and helped with set up, hanging, sales, etc. At show close yesterday, one wonderful man took down and stacked all the panels and pedestals, maybe a hundred of them. He carefully put all the hardware parts in the correct bags to be ready the next time they are used. What a "prince of a fellow."
All the artists were supposed to have checked out their unsold pieces by 4 pm, but as usual there were a couple who didn't get the memo - as they say. The ones not picked up are now in my studio. A seventyish year old woman who came in today to pick up hers was one I had a conversation with during the show. She told me the history of her nicely rendered pencil drawing. It was from an old photograph, one of her mother pushing her as a baby in one of those big carriages of yesteryear. When she came in today, her white haired, sturdy looking ninety-four year old mother was with her but stayed outside, sitting on the chair near my door. After exchanging the obligatory small talk, the artist, heavy, old and bent herself, put her pieces under her arm and stepped out to tell her mother she was ready to go. With her free arm, she helped her mother up, and arm in arm they walked away.
One of the many illustrations of love.
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