I found myself standing in a windowless hall of dark closed doors. As though a wind took with the light and the air to close everthing I could peer into. But then vines cracked the mortar in the floor and extended nimble fingers to reclame the darkened space. I find now the whole labrynth of doors I've been constructing and bloodying my knuckles over is falling to rubble. And through the looking glass I find things to be more translucent.
I recently had my first show. Some saintly folk in Virginia had a marvelous brainchild to inject a real bon temps roulee feel into the Bayou Boogaloo Cajun Arts Festival. They graciously shipped work, provided room, board, and boothspace, and hauled the hallowed bodies of 30 or so New Orleans artists. We all piled on a bus at 9:30 at night in NOLA and set off on our thousand mile journey.
The next morning the big black bus, "I heart NOLA" in gold brandishing from its side, pulled into Hardees. The driver made a bee line for the door and then there was a pause. Moments later a fountain of flowing fabrics, professional cameras, and earthy postures came flowing from the door. The ecclectic crowd dispersed to the edges of the parking lot to examine flowers, take portraits of the clouds, and stir up a little tai chi line dance. The island of misfit toys seemed tumped over into the parking lot.
After being a craft fair waif my entire life, I have found new drive through this validating, inspiring event. Suddenly people who I have observed and admired for years are nestling me warmly under their wings, welcoming me as a peer. The path before me has opened up like the morning horizon. Soon my best friend and career/adventure partner and I will hit the road to find a new home and space to totally immerse ourselves into nature, new culture, and our mediums. It is hard to break away from all my current comforts, and all of my fears and insecurities are blazing in my face. However, the time has come. The nest has gotten too warm.
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