Several weeks ago I entered a photograph in a juried exhibit and it was accepted. And I was elated since I knew that most of the pieces didn't make the cut—and I had previously tried to get into this particular exhibit.
This photo was rather special—everyone who looked at it said "evocative"—yet simple. A dingy on the marsh waiting for high tide. The greens appeared to layer themselves across the print, with each strand standing out. An array of greens—subtle, yet a palette found under a late afternoon sun. I called the picture—Waiting.
It reminded me of how often we wait for something to happen, for the next day, for the report, for the beginning or ending—waiting is deep seated. Yet, this boat waited placidly—content amid a plethora of greens. Nothing seemed rushed. The photo released a serene, but hypnotic impression.
Then I received a phone call asking if I'd be at the opening—"you'll be surprised"—delighted.
I mentioned the opening to several people—one a woman who I only see at the coffee house I frequent, one who took a writing class with me and takes marvelous photographs, and a couple who I initially met at the coffee house.
I didn't spread the word because people are busy and you don't want anyone to feel they have to show up.
Today, one of those magnificent early fall day in New England—crisp and sunny--called to everyone to be outside.
Church in the morning—an invigorating sermon with lots to think about. I like that.
Then the opening. Lots of people, a wonderful show—terrific sweets, cheeses, apple slices, cider and lemon water served in an outdoor garden.
At three o'clock someone called the gathering together. Just as we were crowding into the upstairs space, I spotted someone I had known from a Chinese Brush painting course. Our paintings were side by side downstairs. Such a coincidence!
When they announced the pieces that received prizes—my name was called. The last time I received an award in art I was thirteen and won a Gold Scholastic Key for a charcoal still life.
I shook hands with the presenter and held my envelope—tightly, but didn't open it until we drove home.
The award was special—but what really was special were all the people I told who showed up.
God's grace was there—