Symbolism is an art term that means one thing represents something else. This week, a couple unique situations presented themselves with a variety of symbols. During one of my daily walks for exercise, fresh air, and rejuvenation, I routinely see signs; some belong to businesses, while others belong to Mother Nature. They range from the common-place like stop signs and crosswalks to the extraordinary magic of watching a tree slowly change color as more leaves turn from green, to yellow, orange, then finally red and brown, only to float to the ground in the end.
As I write this, it is Friday October 6th. I have been a nervous wreck all day anticipating the art show opening that Dave and I have this evening. In an effort to get my mind off the event, my youngest daughter along with her two sons took me on an outing in the morning. We went to an ocean-side playground in a neighboring town. However, as we drove there, it started lightly raining. My daughter and I didn't know how long we would be able to stay outdoors. In an effort to stay as dry as possible, we sat under a large oak tree - so far, so good. As I looked around, there were squirrels scurrying across branches. Acorns fell all around us. A lobster boat was leaving the harbor. Through it all, my grandsons played to their hearts content. I also noticed an orange construction cone where an old merry-go-round used to be. The last time we were all here, we played on it despite how rusty and rickety it was. Now it's only a distant memory. I'm wondering if the town will install a new one next Spring...
After a while, the rain came down much harder. We gave up the playground and drove to the library in Camden. While the rest of my family used the restrooms, I wandered into the gallery where Dave's and my art works are. I noticed my portfolio was opened to a different page - "This is good", I thought. "People are reading about myself and my work." I then joined my family in the children's room. In the same room, there was a young couple with an 18-month old, who talked with my daughter and I. He was a sailor for one of the windjammer boats and had the day off. "I'm an artist and my work is in the Picker Room," I replied. By the way, the Picker Room is the official name of the library gallery. "That's yours - it's great," he expounded. "I really love all the colors." "Thank you," trying to sound as graceful as possible as I felt a little overwhelmed with emotion.
Soon it was near lunchtime, so we departed and my daughter dropped me back home. The sun had returned by now and was heating everything up to an above normal temperature for this time of year. Once home, I changed into fancier duds. I figured now was a good a time as any to be dressed for the opening which was only in a few hours. I found my teal shirt and matching scarf soon enough, but the black pants I wanted to wear were nowhere to be found. All of a sudden, I was in panic mode. I tried remembering where was the last place I saw them. Couldn't remember. I thought, "What would Dave do? He's so good at finding my stuff when I can't." That didn't work - he wasn't home and I'm not him! Damn! I ended up going through multiple drawers, shelves, and even a remote pile of clothing or two. I did finally find them... in the last place I looked. Still I was overjoyed.
By now, Dave was just about due home from work. To pass the time, first I made myself a cup of tea. This particular brand of tea has inspirational sayings on the tag at the end of the thin string. Today's tag; "Peace of mind comes piece by piece." Obviously, this is a huge sign from my Greater Power, who also has a tremendous sense of humor. The second thing I delved into was to finish the painting I started this morning. I still had to fill in the background and some tiny spaces. I have a one track mind and honed into what I was doing. It took a good 45 minutes to complete.
About the time I finished painting, Dave arrived home from work. He brought in the food for the opening reception, readied on our serving platters, and changed into his dress clothes... in a matter of fifteen minutes. I love my husband with all my heart, but sometimes his efficiency makes me want to strangle someone. We drove to Camden and arrived about 15 minutes before the reception started. The events coordinator, I believe, was a little nervous as she has not done this many times before. She was pacing when we walked into the gallery. We set everything up and were ready to roll.
Slowly but surely, people strolled in - some people we knew would be there, others complete strangers. Some stayed and chatted for over 20 minutes, others came, saw and left. During a brief break while talking with patrons, the events coordinator handed me what looked like a very small ceramic spike. She mentioned she didn't know if it was part of one of the paintings, or it fell off from something as she found it while browsing through my portfolio. When I informed her it wasn't any part of the current show, she offered to throw it in the trash. I replied that I would keep it as it was an enormous symbol to me. Back in my 20's, I created eight ceramic pieces that I created for a college class. The idea began with a blow fish all puffed up with its spikes. The other pieces followed suit, whether it was a vase, or a sea plant, or whatever.
Over the years, Dave and I have moved to different locales. Despite our best efforts, many of the spikes have fallen off. The spikes represent the defiance's of the blow fish. At that time of my life, I felt I had to always "be on guard" - my defenses - my walls were impenetrable. To be given a spike after all these years was a sign to be friendly and outgoing. I don't have to be so defensive anymore.
Over the next two hours, numerous people stopped and engaged in our work. People of all ages, including children. Just about everyone found something to engage with - whether it was the colors, textures, the lines, the patterns, what-have-you. We even had one gentleman state that he didn't like any of the works... right to the events coordinator. Oh well; it is what it is.
After the reception was over, we cleaned up, packed what little food and drink was left, and headed back to Rockland. Dave and I were going to celebrate at one of our favorite restaurants, but being Friday night during the early evening, the establishment was packed. We decided we had had enough of the public and headed home. As I finish writing this, I'm in comfy clothes, we have some mellow jazz on, and the lights are low. I'm winding down... content. It was a good day to talk about art and it's meanings - both big and small.
Until next time,
Jill
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