Last week Monday, we dropped the paintings off at the gallery. I came home to empty walls, and wasn't prepared for the onslaught of raw emotions that assaulted me. What had I done?
By Tuesday, David, the gallery owner had curated the exhibit, and everything looked great. He gave us a small tour, and wall after wall put the paintings in the best possible light, literally and figuratively. Toward the end of the walk through, he said, "I need one more painting for the show. Do you have one more small vertical painting for this wall?", and then he showed us a small wall that indeed could use a small painting. I mentioned a few paintings that I still had at home, and he said, "too big, wrong size, not right....do you have anything else? Can you paint something?"
Dumbly, I said, "Sure, no problem."
So right away, I went to the art supply store, bought an 8" x 10" canvas, stopped at the florist on the way home, bought some tulips, got home, set up a still life in my studio, and started a new painting. I say still life, but tulips are anything but still. They kept following the sun, and opening and closing, so that I finally had to just paint them in place. Painting that day and the next did wonders for my fragile psyche.
Every painting needs a frame, and bless his heart, when I agreed to paint another image, Reese also agreed to have it framed in time for the show on Thursday. We both got busy; me in the studio, and Reese in the garage with all his tools. Mind you, Reese made at least 50 frames for the show...not one accident. But making this tiny frame, he sliced off the end of his right index finger and fingernail. Lord, have mercy. He almost passed out on the kitchen floor.
We both finished our parts by 2 o'clock on Thursday afternoon, and when we got to the gallery at 6, handed the wet painting (and the haiku description card) to David Baquero, who put it in it's place. The end.