Until I launched this site, most of my finished work was rarely seen by someone other than myself. Occasionally a piece might be in an exhibition, or exist online, but that's the exception. So unless people see my work during an annual studio crawl, it's mostly unseen so I don't really have a sense of how people see it. Once in a while though, I experience someone's response directly.
One—During my first year of undergraduate school I painted a lot at home outside of my regular coursework, because focused studio courses weren’t offered until sophomore year. I entered one of those paintings the following spring to an Art in the Park juried exhibition in my hometown. It was a mixed-media piece on paper. I don't recall if I saw the show, or attended any events connected to it, but after it was over my parents collected the piece for me. Eventually, 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 long time and wanted to have it in her house. 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 and wanted it so it’s been hanging on that living room wall ever since. For a few years afterwards, when I was 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 duplex as my brother and sister-in-law above Bernices’ Bakery, 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. I was flattered. No one had ever said something that provocative about something I've made. It woild have been exciting to see her make love to my painting, but how would that even work? I have no idea and she obviously liked it. Her reaction is as good as it gets.
Three—During an ‘open studio crawl’, I heard someone enter my space during a relatively quiet time on a Saturday afternoon. I was in the back working so I looked around the corner to greet whoever it was. A woman was standing alone in front of one of my paintings called Full of Birds. I didn’t say anything and after a bit she quietly left. Awhile later, I heard someone walk in and found the same woman standing in front of it again. This time she stayed longer, so I finally approached her, introduced myself and asked her if she had any questions. Her eyes were full of tears and she hesitated to talk at first. I asked if she was alright, if she needed anything, and told me she was fine. Her son had been very sick and this painting brought it all up and soothed her at the same time. We stood together for a bit in silence, we thanked each other, and she walked down the hall.
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 and asked if they had any questions and they asked me how I made the photographs. They said they enjoyed looking at photographs and taking pictures themselves. They couldn't figure out what kind of prints they were, what kind of paper I used, and how they were made. I wasn’t following what they were saying because they aren't photographs, and then I realized that 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 of the used Bic pens that I had on display. This random encounter led to a long conversation about perception and art.
Songs :: I Will Follow and October by U2, How Soon is Now by The Smiths and Tales of Kilimanjaro by Santana
© C. Davidson