As much as I love my new home (NY) I have to be honest and say the two occassions that have brought me close to defection have been the Art-for-Aids auction and Open Studios. Both of these events have been a constant in my life and Open Studios in particular has been more like a family reunion than spending time with my own. My flesh and blood best exchanged for oil and collage.
It started in 2000 shortly after moving to SF. I was new to the city and one of my first friends in SF, an aspiring artist suggested we go check out some studios. The first was Fort Mason and I remember being overwhelmed by the amount of work and how there could possibly be that many artists in SF. And people were buying, leaving with paintings and prints and photos tucked under their arms. As a new collector, this was amazing to see. I felt like I had found my people and of course time would only draw me deeper into this conclusion.
Two years later — and newly single — my friends encouraged that we all buy tickets to Private Preview which we did and again I was flooded with overwhelm to see all of the art displayed in tiny grids, hundreds and hundreds of pieces each a whole new world to discover. Year and after year passed, each with Open Studios firmly on the calendar and each year I found ways to be more involved first through volunteering, then consulting, then as committee, gallery sitter, juror, panelist, lecturer and always, always, always collector of art and artists.
Over the years, I would look forward to a journey into the familiar sea of faces, followed by warm hugs and greetings. I would reflect on the guide and guess whose work is whose without looking at the names and enliven the surprised way my heart still races to see the evolution of style and subject matter as artists’ have had a year to mature. Each time new, each time magic.
So here I am 3,000 miles from the center of what was once my universe, my family, my bliss and it is with joy and sadness that I feel my place taken by someone who will experience that same wonder for the first time. Perhaps they too will move on to a world (and apt.) filled with art. Perhaps they too will sit where I once did as a gallery sitter at SomArts feeling glorious sunlight on my face and thinking how deeply I wanted this to be my life. Perhaps they will love the art and their artists creators and connect in that rare and lovely way that happens when studios and minds are open. Perhaps, oh perhaps they will even know when it is time to make room for the next phase and to begin living a new dream filled with memories, and hope, and possibility and dare I lack for saying it filled with art.
