Flashback: Sunday, May 31, 2009, 12pm, Reaves Gallery, San Francisco, CA. The space is bare, art returned to its creators, walls patched and freshly painted, and floors freshly scrubbed. The final inhabitants – Ella, my i-Phone and me – a combination that could lead to no outcome but a final dance. The song of choice “Sister Moon” and — as I often did — I began twisting and turning, legs lifting over a fearless Ella, arms outstretched. Moments after, I took a final glance to pack up all the amazing memories: the conversations, the opening nights, the artists, the clients, the friends, the stolen kisses, and as I locked the door I could swear I heard the sound of a champagne cork popping then fading gently into silence.
Over the months and the miles since, there have been many champagne corks, conversations, and friends but when I locked those gallery doors behind me and moved forward I wasn’t certain what direction this would lead me. I’ve applied to a vast array of art-related jobs ranging from museums, non-profits and galleries. I’ve gotten a few responses but for the most part, it’s just me doing what I know how to do the only way I know how to do it. What this means is that I’ve adopted various non-profits and artists. I’ve given lectures, curated shows, volunteered and along the way have connected to a few mentors who have been helpful and open with suggestions on my future path. A path that on this day has lead me to a neighborhood much like Hayes Valley. A neighborhood filled with fashionistas and families, young people and old, strollers and dogs. I walk down the street as if invisible no one yet knowing that I may be the person who sells them art or inspires them to create or perhaps even become their friend. It’s a nice moment, one that brings a tear to my eye and a smile to my lips.
And in that moment of transparency, I can’t help but relive a few of the twists and turns that brought me here. You see, I am en route to a gallery, a gallery owned by a friend. Someone who was kind enough to fly to San Francisco in 2005. Without first meeting me, he agreed to participate in a show, the second I ever curated. The title was “Re-Discovery” and it was held at the DragonBar in North Beach. Instantly smitten with his larger than life persona and his amazing talent, I bought a painting and we stayed in touch in over the years running into each other year before last on a random street in the East Village. We walked together, excitedly catching up on life, swapping stories on art but other than the occasional “at-a-boy” or “at-a-girl” when one of us achieved an accomplishment that was the extent until 2 short weeks ago when he saw a random posting on Facebook. The posting stated my first goal of 2010 which is to be back in art full-time. He suggested I call him and a few short hours later an agreement was born. It’s not full-time but I will help him curate and manage his gallery. I am needed, I once again have purpose, I am once again at peace. That friend/artist/angel is Michael Mut and it is in his gallery, www.michaelmutgallery.com, a few blocks from that last random meeting on the Lower Eastside, that I dance today. I chose the same song of course but just as sweet, it somehow sounds different, the moves are different but arms are still outstretched, still reaching.
The beautiful truth is that I am not sure where my life is headed and I am okay with this for the most part. This is the only area I feel confident enough not to “completely” choreograph, the one space in my life I allow to remain open. The unknowns expanding into glimmering possibility and it is with perfect certainty that I am confident once again that it will be filled with art. Art is what inspires me. It’s what I look forward to each day, it gives me community, it motivates me, it allows me the freedom to dance with fearless abandon, and in some small way I believe the feelings are mutual.
You are magic
Enjoyed your post and your hopeful, accepting outlook that life is good and art will give you back what you give to it. Best wishes with your career!