The Art of Small Town Living
I was delighted to discover a little but well-stocked art supply store when I moved to my new town last June. There was a small gallery at the back of the store that featured art by local artists, some professional and some with lesser skill but no less creativity and style. The store’s owner is dedicated to promoting art in the community. Often that word “promote” is all about sales and money. This is more about inviting people to explore and create art, and to see each other’s creations.
Every month or so the store has a call-to-artists based on a theme. I bought a lovely little painting of a teapot during the “Magenta” show. It’s perfect for my kitchen and the teapot looks as if I could reach out and pick it up. There was another slightly larger painting of radishes that I also adored, but it was just a bit out of the price range I had allowed myself.
Shortly after purchasing the teapot painting, which will live in the gallery until the show is over, I overheard a woman in the co-op dining area talking about city sales tax. She was meeting someone at the co-op to deliver a painting they were buying from her. After the man who purchased the painting left her table I started up a conversation with her about city sales taxes in various Vermont towns. She came over to my table and we discovered we had several things in common, not least of which was our age. I did a card reading for her (with my Wise Asks cards). It was a delightful encounter.
We ended up connecting several days later and decided to go to lunch together. We enjoyed each other’s company. She mentioned she had seen the Valentine’s Day card I did for another one of the art store’s community events. I told her how much I appreciated and enjoyed the art store. I told her about the teapot painting I purchased. She told me she had a painting of radishes in the show. I told her how much I liked it and how I would have bought it if had not been just out of my price range. She then showed me photos of some of the paintings she was working on and considering submitting to the next show. The new theme was “Trees”.
I started thinking about trees. Specifically about family trees. About the negative and positive traits of all my grandparents and parents. I thought about how some of the negative ones played out in positive ways. And about the opposite. I thought about which of those many traits lived in me. About the ones I watered and fertilized and about the ones I tried to pull up like invading, choking weeds. I began my own project.
I planned to use watercolor paper and paints, the handles from paper bags, thread, and an old wooden hanger from my childhood. I wrote phrases that I morphed into lists of words representing all those traits I was thinking about. It was super therapeutic and revelatory. I realized that though I would be quite tickled if my piece were to be chosen for the show that it really didn’t matter one way or the other. The final piece would either turn out well and I would submit it, or it would be something of a mess — either artistically or mechanically, since I was creating it in a mobile style — and I would end up recycling it. The process was what mattered to me. Mostly the psychological process, with the creative process coming in at a close second.
I stopped in at the gallery to thank the owner for the call-out-to-artists for the Trees show. I explained the process it had sparked for me. I told her about meeting the radish artist. The owner was delighted. My experience was proof of her success. She was indeed fostering artistic creation in the community. She is also, purposely or not, fostering community among those of us who strive to live our lives creatively.
Cinse Bonino
2023
