Many emotions arise when work leaves the studio and hangs on a wall in public––joy and despair, pride and abjectness, fear and exhilaration, tremendous self doubt and anxiety, excitement and oh! "I vant to be alone!"––so many conflicting feelings, especially for me since I haven't had a solo show in NYC for over 7 years; this is my first since I began writing this blog. Work takes on a life of its own apart from its maker when in an exhibition; it becomes its own self, a physical presence out in the world. In my solo exhibition at McKenzie Fine Art, ending on Sunday, November 16, my work––textiles, drawings, and paintings––has been treated with tremendous respect, hung with a great deal of breathing room.
Are these the small paintings I work on at a table under my upstairs skylight? there's a kind of disbelief that they came from my hand. Installation photographs do not truly convey the sense of scale, just as photographs of the paintings don't give enough information about surface. The great thing about having a show is that your friends are able to finally see what those photos were hinting at. But then of course there's the fear: what if they don't like it? Having a show is exposing yourself.
A group of framed drawings are hanging together on a long wall, emphasizing their color notes.
In the rear of the gallery several more paintings are hanging.
Four textiles hang on a wall, with "Blue Ribbon", an illusionistic shaped piece, on a wall of its own. I was very pleased that Valerie McKenzie wanted to exhibit three of my several bodies of work, and I hope that they make sense together. When I'm working, it all makes sense because I'm doing it, but out in the world, what then? There is the pride and the fear. There are also the "great expectations". I recently reread Dickens' Great Expectations, a marvelous book and a fair warning against living for those expectations. Don't we all hope that we are declared geniuses, and isn't there always a little letdown when that doesn't happen, which it very rarely does? The trick is to not take oneself too seriously, and to be grateful, always grateful, for the good that there is in life. And I am very grateful for this show.
The best part of all was the opening, when I got to meet many new online friends for the first time, and see many old friends. I was very lucky in having a terrific photographer, Brandt Bolding, take pictures of the opening; this and the three that follow are by Brandt. You can see his beautiful photographs at his website. I think the photographs with people give a better sense of the size of the work and bring it more to life. The woman regarding the textile is another wonderful photographer, Carolyn Louise Newhouse.
A group of people look at the group of drawings. And my nephew's little son is more interested in the dog than in the art.
"Orange Rounds" between two heads, above two hands.
And me, for those of you who wonder what I look like, here I am looking very happy. Thanks Brandt for the photos, thank you friends for your support, and thanks to Valerie McKenzie for believing in my work.