Not much happening here. The fun, it came. Now, quiet again.
Friends, family, dogs, food, music, laughing. This group, each year slightly shifts. But it’s core is revisited year in year out. To get together and give thanks. Amongst those that you are so thankful to know and love.
When the first family members and/or guests arrive, it’s like the first ripples in a pond. It’s not just me by myself anymore. Not just quiet. It takes a minute or three to adjust to this new world.
But by the time the jammed house has emptied out, I can’t recall that disconcerted feeling. I’m riding the waves. And loving it.
I happened to be reading this book on Walter Hopps, this reknowned art curator who greatly influenced the reception of pop art, abstract impressionism and other movements at the end of the last century. He not only loved art and artists but he also cared deeply about both. I mention him here because his life was so wild, yet he shares it with such nonchalance.
For example, he is putting up a show for which the artist does not want to attend. He goes to great length to drive out and find this man. He, Walter, is high on amphetamines. The artist is totally drunk.. But Walter is determined to get him to the opening. At one point, Walter comments that the road seems kind of rough. The artist takes the steering wheel and redirects the car. He says to Walter, “Yeah, we were just driving across people’s lawns for 2 blocks…”
Okay, so it’s not about art, per se. But it’s about friendship and commitment to the art scene. AND, it’s just part of the story. No big deal.
He brings it all in. The artists. The art. The story.
Not much happening…