On this quiet Monday morning, I sit on my deck, watching hummingbirds, and thinking about my weekend spent at an art show in the old New England summer enclave Nonquitt. Over the three day of this event I saw friends I hadn’t seen for many years, played several rounds of “you look so familiar” and met many new folks. None of that was unusual.
The totally unexpected gift of the weekend was having children as customers. Two young girls, unrelated as far as I could tell, each picked out the same image of purple pink petals. They were immediate and unwavering about their selection and very much the decision makers in the transaction, knowing exactly where my image would live in their personal space. I had been prepared with my lines and stories for adults, but never before considered that children as young as seven would be art buyers. What a treat!
My photographs are all stories, tales of a world stopped for the fractional moment of a shutter click. They speak of mood, form, feeling, tone and color, but that is not all. Images are like book covers, an invitation to journey into another world, a journey that often leads to yet more words and images. I love sharing that journey and thanks to my iphone I was able to show each of these girls the backstory of their chosen image -- of the Mexican celebration of Carnaval and the women who make these beautiful paper flowers.
Was it the journalist in me, the teacher, or a latent grandparent need that took such great pleasure in watching their faces as they saw the story on my iphone? I don’t know the answer to the question, but I do know it was the most unexpected delight of the weekend and has set my mind wondering about education, class, privilege and the magic of art.