I deinstalled my show at River Road Unitarian yesterday. Many thanks to curator Mary Ferguson for organizing it... and to the new owner of Red String (Fortune) for giving this piece a home. When she picked it up, she asked if I think about my paintings after they're sold. I told her I do, so much so that I worry about them. If someone redecorates or their taste in art changes ten years down the road, does the piece end up in a dumpster somewhere? My memories and emotions are embedded in my paintings. They are a huge part of me.
When people buy my work, I feel like they are validating my existence not as an artist, but as a person. They are understanding struggles, celebrating high points, and standing right with me as I make visual the intense wonder I feel, both when I was a young girl and now as a 43-year-old woman. Wonder about the world, why we exist, and what it all means.
Since my little sideswipe with uterine cancer last fall, I've been trying hard to express gratitude for something, no matter how small, every day. The big things I repeat often: how grateful I am for it being caught early, for surgery removing it all, for not needing radiation/chemo. But there are other equally big things, big quiet things, that I need to vocalize more. Like making sure my friends know how much I appreciate their support for my art. Here's my dear friend and co-worker Lesley who just happened to match two paintings at the River Road reception. Thanks to each of you who come out and look at art whether it's the work of someone you know or not. People who look at and experience art keep our visual culture alive, and make us artists want to keep on doing what our hearts know best.