Night at the Museum - part two

A misguided preacher announced  the world would come to an end on May 21st with the Christian "rapture" that stirred up a silly fuss in the media. The 21st was also the evening for the inaugural "Art of the Auction" gala at the NC Museum of art, in which my little painting had been hanging for three weeks. My "Divas," who are my muses in one sense or another, joined us for the dressy gala. 

These women are my biggest boosters; my wife of 33 years, and three of my BFFs, which include an accomplished Artist, a celebrated  Interior Designer, and my gallery owner, who was a NYC model and stylist. They all looked so fabulous. We celebrated with a glass of champagne before the drive to the museum, and once there, we followed the very tony and well-dressed crowd to the entrance for our tickets. The air seemed to crackle with energy, with over 800 guests anticipated.

My painting had been juried and out of more than 500 entries, of which 140 were selected. I was thrilled to be included, and felt a strong sense of giving back to the iconic museum that had been a source of such vast richness to me. As we slowly moved to the ticket window, a staff member I knew, rushed over and told me that my painting was the very first sale of the evening! I was literally awestruck and dumbfounded, but I believe that possibly my chest puffed up a size, and my head was floating, with four beautiful women as my dates. What a lucky man!

We descended the main staircase to the crowd, the band, bar and food; and the wine did flow. The silent auction had some nice work on which to bid, and then the main auction began at nine, in an enormous tent. I have never witnessed such a lively and exciting auction. A serious amount of money was raised for the museum educational programs, and for future exhibitions, such as the Rembrandt show in the fall.

I loved watching people look at my painting, and hearing their comments. The tornado subject matter had become very relevant and more disturbing, as the south and the nation had been the targets of  tornados in the weeks before the auction. Obviously, the person who bought my picture had staked it out beforehand, and I was told she rushed in exactly at seven, as the evening began, to purchase my painting. I would like to thank the person who bought the image, and inquire what drew her to my stormy canvas.

Dancing began just after the auction, and we stayed late, until coffee and desert were served. As we headed west, we were all chattering with memories of the night, and then the girls grew quieter, and then they slept. Driving in the silent dark of the night, my mind began to race through memories of the night, the stages of my life, and how art had been such an important part of who I am. We arrived home well past midnight, and the 21st was already over.

The "rapture" had not ended the world as we know it, but the rapture I felt in my heart on that special night, surrounded by my dear friends; and the joy I had felt earlier at the family museum dinner, will live on in my most joyous memory files the remainder of my life. I do know that if the world had ended that evening, I would have have gone out incredibly happy.

Night at the Museum - part one

Our NC Art museum has held a piece of my heart since I was a child. Visiting the Norman Rockwell exhibition last year revealed brushwork techniques I had long forgotten.  In February, a call for entries online for the inaugural juried "Art of the Auction" exhibition and sale at the NCMA caught my eye. On a lark, I sent in a digital photograph of a stormy tornado painting which I had entitled "Funnel". My longtime fascination with storms and tornados may have been linked to the "Wizard of Oz" or perhaps it was the memory of seeing an ocean waterspout in Florida when I was six. How can something so beautiful and mesmerizing have such fierce power? 

 

Forty years ago, in calls for show entries, my work had been rejected by the NCMA which stung my ego at the time, and set up a change in my life. I had several gallery shows after college, and sold some art, but no luck in getting into the NCMA statewide exhibitions. After marriage, I gradually gave up a painting career to focus on family and building a business. After retirement, I began to paint once again. Images seemed to flow out of my brain straight to canvas, and 2010 was a prolific year in which I did about thirty paintings to get my hand and brain in concert once again. Not only did it feel joyous but it seemed to take me back to my roots of classes in oil, starting at the age of ten. Of these works, some have found a home with friends and family while others are locally exhibited. 

 

As the final day for announcing the auction jury selection arrived on March 30th, I concluded that I had been rejected once again. Then a late afternoon email arrived. After forty long years, an acceptance letter from NCMA may seem like a silly bit of vanity, but reading that letter gave me an enormous sense of validation.

 

The week of my 60th birthday, I delivered the painting to the museum and met my wonderful sister-in-law for a lively lunch at the museum restaurant. After hearing the news of my acceptance, she asked if she and my brother-in-law could come to the Preview event. In a few days the group had grown to include my wife and daughter, and my niece and her fiance. We all gathered in the courtyard, and found our way to a table and the catch-me-up southern family chatter began in earnest.

On a quest to find my painting, I slipped away from the table. My eyes searched the galleries downstairs, with  no luck. I went back upstairs and in a prominent corner by the entrance, there it was, and there I was; standing in front of my own painting, with joy and amazement. It was one of the most powerful moments of my life. As I stood there, I felt a tear rolling down my cheek, and such  enormous pride, thinking of my parents, who had given me that first paint set and lessons fifty years earlier.  A female guard, watching my reaction, asked, "Is this your first time hanging here?" I nodded yes, because I could not speak. She reached in her jacket pocket, and handed me a tissue, saying, "Congratulations." I will never forget  that dear woman's face and kindness.

I then took my family, one by one, to see the painting, and we celebrated our excitement with toasts and  several more glasses of wine. At half past eight, my sis-in-law announced that we had reservations to eat at "Iris," the stunning new restaurant in the new museum building. Off we went and enjoyed a  wonderful family meal. The drive home was quiet, and as the night progressed, I found myself wide awake, savoring every moment of the delicious night.