I have had something on the back burner for a few weeks and, just to be certain I have pounded all the life from this old metaphor, it has started to boil. It is time to drop a few hints. Why bother with a few hints, you ask? Why even bring it up if I can't tell the whole story? Obviously, you haven't been reading my blog very long. Otherwise, you surely know me better than to expect hardcore reasoning on matters of the heart. And this is a matter of the heart.
As for why only hints, this venture is a partnership. This isn't just my story to tell and many details are unsettled, so I need to wait until I can "spill the beans". I am only good at keeping other people's secrets. Any secret you shared with me might as well be stored at Fort Knox. I carry around secrets that are decades old. I have held onto some secrets until I forgot I ever knew the information in the first place. On the other hand, if it involves me, I am a veritable blabbermouth. If I don't drop some hints, the pressure will build in my poor little brain and I can't handle the extra stress.
Now you know why, here is the what. For the last few weeks, I have been conspiring with my friend C to take some control over showing our work. C is a painter whose work I like very much and C is a delight. It is a great combo. On Saturday, we took the plunge. We pitched our idea to the owner and manager of a local winery. When I returned and walked in our back door, The Husband asked, "How did it go?" My response was, "It couldn't have gone any better unless Chuck (the owner) had written us a check purchasing all the art in advance."
I don't know much—which is helpful to a blabbermouth, but I know we are investigating the viability of scheduling this for October 1. (Yikes, that's close.) The manager will investigate possible conflicts with local events as well as events that might complement ours. This I know for certain: I suddenly have to switch gears. Big chunks of my time must be devoted to printing, matting and framing. There will be publicity to organize and a million (well, almost) decisions to make. Work not yet finished will have to be shelved for the moment. That won't be easy.
The best part of this, in my mind, is that we have taken action. Whatever happens from this point forward is a bonus. We fretted over so few opportunities to show that didn't involve membership fees and restrictive contracts, or waiting for the once-a-year Bear Valley Springs show. And, we took matters into our own hands. It feels good to have taken the step. It is going to be an interesting few weeks.
Traveling through the foothills entails a never-ending display of delightful colors and flowing, sensuous shapes. The greens of spring are an unearthly electric green and the oak trees, for a short time, are a pale and remarkable lavender. But for much of the year, the hill sides are golden. By summer, the grass is starved for water and baked to a rich gold by the California sun. I never tire of the spectacle. My one sadness is that, on the road through the mountains, there are few places for pulling off the highway to enjoy the countryside, and there are precious few side roads for exploring. Mostly, these are scenes that one must hold in the mind; or, in my case, shoot like a mad woman from a moving vehicle. Occasionally, my crazy experiments yield something that pleases me and brings back the feelings of awe and peace that I draw from the landscape.