Milé picked up two cases of the guides for us to hand out, as well as our municipally-issued Arts Trail sign, but one little thing was nagging at me… oh yeah, the gallery doesn’t exist yet!
Details, details. Our gallery opens on May 1, now a mere 30 days away. So with the Arts Trail guides hot off the press, I became suddenly motivated to spend most of the week getting the gallery into shape. Milé said to me the other day, “I never thought I’d have a gallery.” He’s been painting for more than 20 years, and is incredibly talented and prolific, so I don’t feel like having a gallery is that much of a stretch. Having a silo, especially when you’re a puppeteer just moved from the city – now that’s unexpected.
I woke up early this morning, sun streaming through the blinds in our temporary bedroom. This room has the most beautiful floor grate (the star turns to open and close the grate).
Our own bedroom – like the gallery – doesn’t exist yet. But it will soon. I know, because we’ve hired someone to make it so. The gallery: our responsibility.
I pulled on my painting clothes. I’ve been wearing them all week. Why put on something clean at this point?
Before spending another whole day inhaling paint fumes, I went for a walk around our property. The morning air was vibrating with life – birds, frogs, crickets, all raising their voices together with the dawn, creating a resounding chorus that brought a smile to my face.
The sun shone unabashedly as I took a tour around the gardens behind our house. While I’d been slaving away painting the gallery all week, sleeping plants had awoken, pushing their petals towards the sun.
In another garden – a typewriter, just waiting for inspiration.
In the field, remembrances of last year’s blooms.
And in the gallery, white walls await my Milé’s vibrant, gorgeous paintings. And there's a puppeteer who’s ready to dance, because it’s going to be freaking great.
No comments:
Post a Comment