This morning I went to Studio 15 to finish my painting of my black cat. It is acrylic on a ten inch square wooden surface. The only part I have left is the mouth. But did I do it? Nope.
That was OK. There were people to talk with, and that was much more interesting. We did some debriefing about the art show, sharing thoughts and accolades, and noting areas that can be improved next year.
I have a memory of going to the art show during the Azalea Festival with my mother when I was a little girl, maybe age five or six. Back then the art was hung on the spikes of a wrought iron fence on a walkway between a church and another building. I remember looking up at the pieces while I held my mommy's hand. This show was a descendent of that remembered one, and I must be there when it takes place.
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