Hello, art collectors!
This is not a story about me: it's a story about my collectors.
Look at the intentness on Susan's face: you can almost see the place in her house where she's imagining she'll display the artist trading card she's holding.
And then Susan and Dick proceeded to browse -- no, collect -- multiple pieces as they worked their way through the pieces I showed at the Mill Creek Art Walk yesterday. Have you ever watched someone fall in love, with a piece of art or with another person?
It's like seeing a whole world of new possibilities dawning in their eyes: unexpectedly intimate and exciting at the same time.
And in my own living room -- oops, I mean the Windermere Living Room. Darren and Gwen Munson truly made me feel at home, and I tried to pass that vibe along to the people who visited.
I think another friend, Marianne Morris, perfectly captured the feeling I'm trying to describe:
There's something about someone loving that thing that you poured your heart into. I don't think I'll ever get used to it. It can turn a complete stranger into a friend in seconds.
A rude awakening
In light of the George Zimmerman trial aftermath, The Boy and I both are rethinking how he looks to other people.
This is The Boy just having fun with a couple of bandannas over his face, a couple of weeks ago. But this morning (sans bandannas) an NPR story got us talking about race.
He asked me if he would have gone to a white school or a black school in the 1960s, since he's biracial. Among other things, I replied that he would have gone to a black school... and I could almost hear the realization of what that probably meant sinking into his mind like a stone.
The Boy is doing very well at school here and now... he goes on field trips, he reads the print off the pages of challenging books... But he knows in the 1960s he probably would have been cut off from most of these educational resources. (I didn't even get into how that hasn't changed for many kids who look like him.)
We did talk about how he still has the power to accomplish anything he wants to do, even though it may take longer than he expects, and that he comes from a long line of people who never give up.
Next stop: The Talk, in which I explain to him that the police are not always his friend. Can it wait until he's at least ten years old?
He asked me if he would have gone to a white school or a black school in the 1960s, since he's biracial. Among other things, I replied that he would have gone to a black school... and I could almost hear the realization of what that probably meant sinking into his mind like a stone.
Next stop: The Talk, in which I explain to him that the police are not always his friend. Can it wait until he's at least ten years old?
Sunny weather=art photo shoots
The weather here has been trying to decide if it wants to be sunny or gloomy. Today: sunny and 80 degrees, so... short photo shoot!
Here's a sneak peek at the small collages (6" square) that I've been working on... just need to clean up the details.
I plan to list three in my Etsy shop this weekend, sometime after sundown -- which means "after 9:30pm" at this time of year. If you follow me on Facebook, you'll be pinged when they're live!