Why exhibit ?
For a number of reasons, it is not often that I am in a gallery exhibition, mostly because I am self-represented, and that can be a conflict. However, last year, my good friend Harley Cowan invited me to join him and one other artist in a 3-person show. The Gallery at the Park is a lovely gallery in Richland, WA, not far from Portland and also happens to be Harley’s hometown.
Fast forward to this summer with the show opening in September. I found myself getting the prints together, framing them, and writing statements. Work I am not used to doing exactly, mixed with a bit of fear, and I work myself into a bit of a funk about the whole project. Thankfully, I have done this show routine often enough to know that it is around this stage that I feel like all my pictures are stupid, shows are stupid, everything is stupid. I promise you this happens to me every time I exhibit. So I push through, Harley delivers the work to the gallery ( thank you, Harley), and the opening reception is a few days away.
Kathleen & I drive to Richland the day of the opening. I have mixed emotions, but overall feeling good.
It is hard to describe how I felt when I walked into the gallery. The space is big and well lit with a mixture of walls to display work effectively in groups. My prints are hung in a small cove-like space with a curved wall that created intimacy for the small prints I like to make. Harley’s pictures are larger and spread out over a few long straight wall spaces. The sculptures David made were in a line down the middle of the space.
The evening was dreamy. I was stunned by seeing my work hanging on the wall; it felt beautiful to me (not stupid). The crowd of folks were milling around, looking at the work and smiling. I was noticing a few of my friends who had come out for the show were there; Harley and David had lots of local friends that came. Then the conversations started; people came and told me how my pictures made them feel. One woman said she was from the town in France where I had made one of the pictures; another had grown up in Prague where some of the others were made. Photographers came, and we talked about process and our lifestyle as artists. Folks collected some of the pictures; others connected to my newsletters. I made some new friends and was reminded of why I have lived this artist’s life.
I am grateful every day; this weekend helps me to remember that feeling.
Be well,
Ray
