visitations

My father-in-law was in town over the weekend. I'm fortunate to have a very good relationship with him and he always insists upon seeing the studio every time he comes to town. It was raining hard that night, and he and my wife got to experience the studio in a way readers of my blogs have read about many times...with the deafening sound of rain coming down on the roof.

I watched this nearly 70-year-old man walk amongst the paintings, both large and small (I know that's a relative thing for me), and all I could think about was how it reminded me of watching my daughters at the zoo. He was lost in joy and wonder. My wife snapped a pic of him in the famous orange chair, staring at a painting that bears her name. Afterwards, we made our way back home and had cocktails and I showed him the film from last year. It was a magical evening.

In those moments, seeing him dwarfed by huge paintings and responding as if he were an 8-year-old boy seeing a rocket for the first time, I realized that this is why I do it. Right there. To entertain the idea, -even for a moment, that I'm able to facilitate that kind of experience by something I do, gives me all the satisfaction in the world.

I may never be rich by the rather absurd standard of making over $250K/year, in fact, I doubt my household will ever see half that number and we are a family of 4. But there is no price tag for what I felt that evening. What, after all, is the value of restoring one's faith?

I'll get knocked down again. I'll get dissed, ignored and refused. The show in Greenville is apparently traveling and I may or may not get invited along, and that's OK. The thing I realized is that I have to get my work out there, -not for money or fame, but for it to have the opportunity to do for others what I saw it do for David. That's the charge. That's what you owe when you answer the call. It isn't about me and my fragile ego and my struggles. It's about getting the work out there, for people to see and respond to...or even to ignore.