Friday, July 11, 2008


Some jazz musicians performing at an outdoor art show.

I'm actually kind of missing the art festivals. I have virtually quit doing them because of the increasing expense and dwindling sales. I've been concentrating on my galleries and teaching instead the past couple of years. But it was always a wonderful feeling to load up my Chevy Express with framed art and all my equipment during Atlanta's miserable February weather, and head south on 75. Twelve hours later I'd be pulling into 80ยบ Miami weather, surrounded by palm trees. For four days I'd share hotel rooms with artist friends, catch up on their year, enjoy dinner together with our hard-earned money, later I'd return home, stopping in at antique malls along the way, with a pocket full of cash. Only to get right back to work in my studio upon coming home, to prepare for the next show a month later. My summers, for many years, were a frenzy of painting, framing, driving, selling, driving, painting, framing, driving, selling, driving, painting, framing, driving, selling, driving. Things would come to a screeching halt in November, giving me plenty of time to devote to the holidays. By February, I'd be more than ready to head down to Miami again.

Nowadays I affectionately pat my dependable van when I pass it on my way to the studio. We talk of converting it to a camper.

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