Blog
Lessons Learned from Art and Life: A Mother's Day Thank You
I wrote this blog a while ago and sat on it because it felt too personal to share. But today is Mother’s Day and last night I spent the evening with my mom and dad at the Markey Cancer Foundation's Calcutta dinner and fundraiser. We had such a great time together, and the painting I donated “Hope is a Thing with Feathers” sold very well. My heart is full today for so many reasons, so finally on Mother’s Day I am sharing this story.
When I pulled up to Charleston Place Hotel, it was a busy Charleston place. Lots of people and cars. Some of the people were dressed very nicely, and others of us artists still had on jeans from our drive across country. Young men with name tags hustled the parking lot helping us pull our giant frames, sculptures, sideboards, you name it, from our cars, and pushed our carts to the freight elevator to the second-floor ballroom. Great hospitality from the start.
I’ll admit I was not relaxed pulling in. I drove eight hours from Lexington, my artwork stacked to the roof of my car and a really whiney cargo box poorly installed on my roof. When I say really whiney, I mean LOUD. I’m a huge podcast/POTUS fan, so imagine me, volume turned as loud as it would go, Michael Smerconish and my cargo box. It’s a miracle I didn’t lose my mind.
Beth met me in the parking lot too, ready for the drill, and I mean that literally. It is so nice to have a friend along for these shows who can help with the grid. As visual as we artists are, some of us are spatially challenged, and trying to make a three-sided booth look symmetrical and aesthetically pleasing is not that easy. A second set of eyes really helps.
Building the grid was a fun part of the show. I held the ladder while Beth held up the piece. I said yes, and she held the spot. I took the painting, handed her the measuring tape, and she marked the spot. I handed her the drill. In went the nail, up went my art, and then we did the stand back to see if it worked. It’s different than painting, but it still feels creative, and there is a real sense of gratification when it is complete.
Booth prepared, we stood back, packed up, and walked to the entrance of the ballroom where we took in what we paid little attention to when we rolled in the work. It was an awesome space, lovely. The room’s color scheme of blues and dark grays showed off the artwork, made it pop. The giant chandeliers made the whole situation feel top notch. The big stage and the big bar were promising fixtures for sure. And the artwork already hung on this first day of set-up was eclectic and gorgeous. I couldn’t wait to walk around and see everything, a feast for the senses, all of it. We were happy to be at SEWE.
After that first slow afternoon, the rest of the weekend seemed to roll in fast motion. There were so many people! I loved meeting everyone who stopped by my booth, collectors and purveyors. I met people from all over the world and from right in my own backyard, and we all had our appreciation for art in common.
And then there were the artists to my right, to my left, across the hall, and around the partition, all amazing people. I could have spent a week just talking with the artists in that room, all so generous and supportive. I made many new friends.
What I haven’t mentioned yet because it is so personal, is that my entire family came down for SEWE. My husband Rob, all three of my girls from all over (Texas, Georgia, Kentucky), my very busy, attorney brother, Craig, and my mom and dad. Most of us stayed on Isle of Palms at the Bozeman’s, our very close family friends. It was a bit of a family reunion, but it wasn’t about me and SEWE. It was about my mom who would say it was about family. And she would be right. It wasn’t about any one of us. It was about family.
My mom has stage four breast cancer, and it does not define her. She is tiny, beautiful and pound for pound the strongest person I know, inside and out. The reality of what lies ahead for her is daunting, but she’s a fighter and approaches each day with a strength, grace, and dignity that is both inspiring and astounding. She is the best mother, grandmother, and friend. There is no bigger advocate for me and everyone in our family. She is one of those rare human beings that makes everyone around her better.
Our weekend together at SEWE is locked in my long-term memory bank. My tough mother was at every event over the weekend including the black-tie affair. She sat in my booth every day, my forever cheerleader, charming everyone who stopped to look at my paintings with her warm, gracious and genuine conversation.
As tired as we were from a full day of SEWE, Friday night we sat around the Bozeman’s large dining room table and ate, drank, and laughed until we cried telling old stories and reliving fond memories. I am forever grateful for the Bozeman’s hospitality and for the opportunity for all of us to be together. If I ever question what I am doing with my life, I can come back to SEWE and the Bozeman’s, the time with my mother in my booth and the time around the table. This is what life is all about, family and friends. I am grateful my work allows time for these important moments.
My mother doesn’t want sympathy. She said to us other day, "I don’t want anybody taking care of me.” The amazing thing is she still taking care of us. Every time I am around her, every time I am sad or worried, I go to see her, and she immediately makes me feel better. She makes me laugh, comforts me, makes me hopeful.
Her power is so much greater than her small body. It is a power that that transcends illness or death. It is the deepest love, and it lives forever. It lives in every single member of her family, every single friend, and every single life that she has touched. She lives in me which means I will never really lose her. And I feel MOST grateful for that.
13 Responses to Lessons Learned from Art and Life: A Mother's Day Thank You
Leave a Comment