Sunday, December 5, 2010

My Artist Date: Hot Shops

Those of you familiar with The Artist’s Way will know what I mean when I say I went on my Artist Date

"The Artist Date is a once-weekly, festive, solo expedition to explore something that interests you. The Artist Date need not be overtly "artistic"-- think mischief more than mastery."

This weekend was the Holiday Open House for Hot Shops. Hot Shops is a big warehouse that is home to over 80 artists who have studios there. On the first floor of the warehouse, there are gallery spaces, as well as other display areas where artists exhibit their work. The other two floors hold the studios which range in size from small dens to medium stores.

During the open house, the artists are there and their studios are open. Visitors can go in, see the work, talk to the artists about their work and, of course, purchase the art. This year was the best Hot Shops open house I’ve been to. There was no parking for blocks and the hallways were snug with art and art lovers.

The event featured the expected art types: paintings, sculpture, photography, jewelry, mixed media, ceramics. I was very impressed with the less expected arts like glass blowing, bronze casting, and blacksmithing.

Many of the artists were not only in their studios, but they were working. It was refreshing to be present during the design and birth of someone else’s vision. I kept staring at their faces wondering if my features look that intense when I write.

I’m selfish when it comes to galleries and museums. I go to them for “art appreciation” certainly, but more importantly, I go to them for art inspiration. Art informs my writing. When I see all the ways in which others are creative, it affirms my own creativity and reminds me that there are no boundaries. I’m able to think and write in new ways.

When I left, my head was filled with the images of faces I’d seen in the art pieces, faces I’d love to put into stories. I jotted notes about them in my notebook. I especially like Kesha—the little girl whose braids were made of puzzle pieces painted over by the artist. Those with dreds know there’s more than hair locked into those thick, knotted chords. There are lifetimes: passions, sorrows, prayers, tears, devotions, breaths . . . Shoot . . . Where’s my pen?

No comments:

Post a Comment