Until I launched this site, most of my finished work was rarely seen by someone other than myself, friends, or my wife and daughter. Sometimes a piece is in an exhibition, or viewable online, or in an annual studio crawl, but that was the exception. So, I don't really have a sense of how people most consider it. Occasionally though, I experience someone's response more directly.
One :: During my first year of undergraduate art and design school, I painted a lot at home outside of my regular coursework. I entered one of those paintings in spring to a juried exhibition in my hometown called Art in the Park. It was a mixed-media piece on paper. I don't recall if I saw the exhibition, or attended any events connected to it, but after it was over my parents collected the piece for me. My mom called to say that a neighbor who lived down the block from them had seen it in the exhibition and asked if it was for sale. She said that she stood looking at it for a very long time and wanted to own it. I’d never heard a response like that about my work, especially from someone I didn’t know. My mom told her she’d ask me. When we spoke about it, I got the feeling that my folks liked it too, so it’s been hanging on their living room wall ever since. For a few years afterwards, when I stayed at my parents’ house, sometimes I’d see that neighbor drive down the street and we’d wave to each other.
Two :: A female tenant who lived in the same building as my brother and sister-in-law above Bernices’ Bakery in Montana, walked into their apartment and saw the painting I’d given to them called Wanderlust. At some point during her visit, she said, "I want to make love to that painting." It must have been shocking to hear. I was flattered when they told me what she said. No one had ever said something that provocative about something I've made. It would have been overwhelming to see her do that. How would that even work?
Three :: During an ‘open studio crawl’, I heard someone enter my studio during a relatively quiet time on Saturday afternoon. I was in the back working, so I looked around the corner to greet whoever it was. An older woman was standing alone in front of one of my paintings called Full of Birds. I didn’t say anything and after a minute she quietly left. Awhile later, I heard someone else walk in and found the same woman standing in front of it again. This time she stayed much longer, so I approached her, introduced myself and asked her if she had any questions. Her eyes were full of tears. I asked if she was alright and if she needed anything. She told me she was fine. Her son had been very sick, and this painting brought it all up again and soothed her at the same time. We stood together in silence, then thanked each other and she left.
Four :: A young couple was looking at my work during a different ‘open studio crawl’ and spent most of their time in front of my ink drawings. They’re 11” x 8.5” and float within 20” x 16” frames. I noticed them among a group of people and asked if they had any questions. They said they liked looking at photographs and enjoyed taking pictures themselves. They couldn't figure out what kind of photographic prints these were, what kind of paper I am using, and how they were made. I wasn’t following what they were saying. Then I realized they thought my drawings were photographs. "Oh, these are ink drawings—ball point pen drawings" I said. Then they seemed confused, so I pointed to all the used Bic pens that I had on display. I was thrilled that they thought my drawings were something else. Our encounter led to a long conversation about perception and art.
Songs :: I Will Follow and October by U2, Court and Spark by Joni Mitchell, Good Times Roll by The Cars, and Tales of Kilimanjaro by Santana
© C. Davidson