The show at Guardino’s
March 27, 2009 by cynthia
That's Heather Soderberg's marvelous portrait on the right, waiting to be cast in bronze
OK, so I’ve now had a full-fledged panic attack. Everyone should have one at least once; it brings a different perspective to the subject at hand.
But the show reception went pretty well. At least, it was still packed more than an hour after it was supposed to close and Donna, Guardino gallery’s owner, finally started turning off the lights to get people to leave.
For me, the highlight of the show were the lovely folk who did indeed turn out to see the show and me (and provide moral, or maybe morale, support). Thanks to Bob, Roxy, Kat, Donna, Ed, Sunny, Mom, Suzi and Robyn for finding great words of encouragement. We added substantially to the crowds, and everything was great and much appreciated.
Octohandy, a huge bronze by Richard Moore and probably my favorite in this show
Got to thinking about this panic attack stuff during the show, and suddenly realized what a rare privilege (and curse) it is to be an observer, writer and reviewer. And how scary it can be when you actually step off the observation post and join the crowd.
I think I’ve been standing on the sidelines and neatly summing up the world for most of my life. It’s a great job; you get the best seat in the house, you get to be a pundit, you get to stay uninvolved, you get to pronounce judgment on all those people who’ve put their creations–whether they’re computers or cereal boxes or art–out on the chopping block.
And you never, ever, ever put your own head on that block. You avoid the agony…but maybe you also miss out on the rewards.
Getting involved–entering a community, working both sides of the friendship street, creating art instead of interesting intellectual exercises, actually sticking that art in a gallery for people to see and hopefully buy–turns out to be incredibly rewarding. But the chopping block part of the equation is scary as hell, as I found out yesterday.
So it seems I have a whole new way of living to learn, and this week was another lesson: How it feels to display your art–not just your glasswork–as your art, without excuses. I suspect (or at least hope) it’ll get easier as time goes on.
As far as the show goes, interestingly, the piece of mine that got the most attention was the last-minute substitute, which I suppose proves that sparkly blue stuff still attracts crowds. It’s too bad you can’t touch the art, because that one has a lot of swirling curves that just beg to be petted. (BTW, I wrote quite a bit about the creation of this piece, a couple of years ago–she led to a lot of color experimenting)
"Current," an older pate de verre piece of mine in Gaffer crystal, also in the show
An unexpected visitor made his way through the crowds to find me and talk about that piece. “I just love it,” he exclaimed, “that’s one of my favorite pieces in this show,” and I remembered not to look astonished. I very much admire his work, so even if he was just being polite it really gave a glow to the evening.
Anyway, it was a great night, I thank you all for coming, and for encouraging me with your comments on this blog.
I am so sorry to not have come to Portland for your opening, Cynthia. My own panic attacks are keeping my nose to the grindstone. Just so you know, they never go away. The Panic Attacks. They keep that adrenaline coursing through your veins, keeping you on your toes & ready for anything! I can’t wait to see your show later this month!
Oh NO, I touched your art … good thing no one caught me!
Reminds me of a line in a country song “he was an honest man until he got caught”.
The show was very nice and your art looked good among the pieces of your peers.
Ed
Sounds like a very cool evening. Happy for you. And I agree, I’d love to see more of the Emergents series.
Well, the art police probably aren’t tracking you down YET, Ed…
Yup. It was fun. Lots of good stuff. Most of the Emergents are pretty evolved from this one–I hadn’t actually taken it off the laundry room shelf in almost two years–but I do kinda like it. I’ve been wanting to explore it a bit more, maybe develop the face a bit, so it *is* on the to-do list (behind about 5 Vignettes…)
ya know…I read that piece as landscape – strong horizontal, another easy art conceit – and didn’t even see the face in it until this photo. Guess that supports your theory ’bout transparency. Meh! I like the (sort of) “ugly” glass be it transparent, translucent or opaque. NOT that I’m calling this one ugly coz it ain’t. Ain’t merely pretty either. Diff. between craft and art? Maybe!
Maybe. I kinda do “where’s waldo” with all my pieces but especially with the Emergents (that’s why they’re called Emergents, actually). That piece in particular really changes with different reflected/transmitted light–what you see really depends on where you stand and what’s going on around it.
I got a kick out of how many people at the opening really did make a where’s waldo out of it. “Well, *I* saw the face right off and YOU had to look for it,” one woman told her husband, while her son traced the nose over and over. (wince)
Was kinda cool. To me, they’re really, really obvious so I’m always surprised that people don’t see the human features, but maybe that’s because I made them…
The one almost nobody gets is Hosta–there are two small bodies washed out of the hosta leaf down at the lower right corner–and I can’t figure out why people can’t see at least one of ‘em…
What REALLY surprised me, though, was the number of people at the show who saw a THIRD little body, up in the top right. My cousin Robyn insisted it was there, traced it out with her finger, and all of a sudden I saw it. That one was totally unconscious.
I was also guilty of not reading the title card
Bad Kat!