My Art Exhibition

My Yoda statue is the piece I am the most proud of

I have two reasons to be grateful for my brief experience as a volunteer of the Friends of the Library.  One, it revealed a talent I didn't know I had...and one I might have never discovered willingly:  I am a talented seller.  I was one of the top sellers at the gift shop.  What is funny is that when I volunteered, this was the last position I would have wanted.  When I volunteered at the library, I had hoped to work quietly with books.  The idea of being a cashier in the gift shop was not appealing, but when that was what was offered, I decided to give it a try.  I was fortunately trying to be open to new experiences, no matter how repellent they seemed in idea.  I'm glad for this.  I loved the work, and I was good at it!

The second reason why I'm grateful is that it exposed me to paper mache.  Oddly enough, I managed to go through my entire childhood without ever doing one paper mache project.  Maybe teachers were tired of mildewing projects done by impatient students.  Whatever the reason, I had heard of but had never tried it.  In the gift shop where I worked, there were several paper mache items hanging on the wall.  The one people tended to be most impressed with was the shark.  We had several offers for it.  Though I didn't seriously consider this an avenue as a career, I was intrigued as a form of expression of  my creativity.  I had done some sculpting with polymer clay, but I was limited by size since it had to be baked.  Paper mache seemed to be a wonderful medium to make large, air-dry sculptures with materials around the house...and they were surprisingly durable.

The LUV U Kitten and Teddy Bear at the right was one of  my first projects.  The base was homemade clay.

My first project was relatively small, made with homemade clay and covered with Jonni Good's paper mache clay--an accidental discovery that opened another realm of possibilities.  My confidence, though, increased when I finished my largest project to date--a sculpture of a Sesame Street Elmo look-a-like (which I called Eldo) and a penguin.

Elmo's twin brother works for someone famous but doesn't share it

During my brief volunteer experience, I also met Patricia who organized art exhibits at my local library.  When I started doing paper mache, I was telling my mom that I was thinking of contacting Patricia in the future to see if I could display my art at the library.  It isn't an art gallery, but it is a good place to start.  My mom, though she had always been supportive and proud of my abilities, seemed to be more driven to encourage me to put thought into action.  She looked up Patricia's number, and before I knew it, I had an exhibition date for December 2013-January 2014.  It would be a whole year later, but I was glad--for I didn't really have much to show when I first set up the date.  Paper mache sculptures take time to make...particularly my method.

At the last minute, Patricia had asked if it would be all right to have the exhibition at Southwest Regional Library instead of my local library (South Regional).  I was disappointed.  Aside from being more convenient, I had friends at my local library I had hoped would see my art.  However, South Regional didn't have many display cases.  It mostly did painting exhibits.  My mom--who provides transportation--said it wouldn't be a problem.

Southwest Regional Library in Florida, where my exhibition is taking place

We had meant to pay a visit to Southwest Regional.  Neither of us had ever been there.  It certainly looked very impressive in photos, very ritzy.  It even looked more impressive than the Main Library, and so I thought perhaps maybe this wasn't such a bad thing after all...even if it is a longer drive.

Unfortunately, it was the long drive that prevented us from going to check it out beforehand.  Our car doesn't have air conditioning--or actually, the air conditioner is broken--and Florida had horrible heat this year.  My mom and I both had health issues--and long drives in the stifling heat just were not an option.  Of course, if you do an exhibition, it really is a good idea to visit the place where it will take place.  I didn't know how large the display cases would be or how much weight they could hold.  As a result, I made my projects smaller and lighter and just hoped there wouldn't be a problem.  There are other reasons why it is a good idea to visit ahead of time that I'll get into later on in the story.

This was originally my least favorite sculpture--but I developed an affection for it once it was finished

A year seems such a long time, and it was a bit of a shock when suddenly it was Thanksgiving week...and I realized my exhibition was coming up.  Patricia and I seemed to have a psychic link.  Whenever I thought, "I need to contact Patricia", I'd go to my email and see that she contacted me.  This happened twice.  I felt like writing, "Get out of my head!"

I wished I had been a bit more productive than I had been.  I had several more pieces, but I didn't consider them the best of my work.  The fact was, most had been my practice pieces, and I am just now starting to produce what I feel is my best stuff.  Oh, well, though.

Patricia put me in contact with Stephany, who was the lady with the keys to the display cases.  There were a bunch of forms to fill out.  The forms seemed to mostly make me aware that Broward County Library bears no responsibility for damaged or stolen artwork.  I display it at their libraries at my own risk.  I also am responsible for picking it up at the end of the exhibition or for arranging the shipping expenses.  I can't end the exhibition early without written permission.  They offered insurance, but I declined (most of the pieces I may not even keep--and the total cost in any case of them all was probably $55.00). I had to give an inventory of the items, their value, and their condition.

Suddenly, it is the night before the exhibition.  I decide to make a flyer that gives my Etsy store, blog, Youtube video, and contact email.  I imagine people sending me emails, "Your art sucks!"  I decide also to make tags giving the sculpture name, the artist, and what it was made of.  They weren't fancy labels, and I wondered if that would count against me.  Would people think less of my work if they saw that on the back of the label, the cardboard that held the sign up said, "Bush's Black Beans"? It hadn't occurred to me to make labels except at the last minute, and so I had labels made from cut up grocery boxes.

The next day, I was surprised at how nervous I was.  More embarrassing, this nervousness was manifesting as a physical symptom.  It made me wonder how many times, just before great events in history--Lincoln making the Gettysburg Address, a gladiator entering the Colosseum, etc.--did the intestines speak to each of these infamous people and say, "I think I have to go to the bathroom! You better not do what you are thinking of doing unless you want soiled underwear! I'm pretty sure I have to poop!"

Despite the bowels growling ominously, everything was packed up--and we started our long drive.  I was soon distracted, though, by my mom's irritation.  Apparently, my mom really dislikes Southwest Ranches.

Southwest Ranches is where the more affluent citizens live.  It was once primarily white.  However, it was not really a convenient place to live for retirees--and then hard times caused many people to foreclose.  The sad thing about that was the amount of abandoned horses left behind, who were often half-starved because their owners couldn't afford to feed them.

It is now mostly populated by immigrants working to achieve the American Dream.  They can afford the mansions if they chip in with other people.  Most make many sacrifices and work long hours--and often work several jobs.  My mom claims people from there can be rather snooty.  I think this is rather common for people who work so hard and make many sacrifices for things they usually don't have time to enjoy--but who mainly do it to earn respect from other people.  Of course, someone like that would be both resentful and disdainful of those of us who probably could earn the same things with less effort, and yet we don't take advantage of opportunities because we have a more leisurely view of life.

Appearance is obviously important, and what is funny is what is sacrificed to make the outer facade look good.  My mom finds the area beautiful.  Personally, I can't appreciate it.  Of course, it is true that the architecture has more grande designs.  There are archways, buildings with fresh paint, Spanish tile roofs, etc.  There is more vegetation.

However, I dislike the cookie-cutter image.  It is incredibly boring.  The houses express no personality of those that live there.  Sometimes they don't even feel lived in. There are rows and rows of townhouses, all painted the same or similar enough colors to not stand out.  Southwest Ranches is a place that has rules about what color you can paint your house and what you can do to it.  The Indians got upset because the rules allow people to own horses, but they are not allowed to raise goats.  The housing association states that horses are allowable because they are considered transportation...but a goat is just a smelly animal.  Contrary to popular belief, the wealthy can't do what they want--or not if they live in Southwest Ranches.

What gets sacrificed becomes very evident to the observer of the senses.  You take a big whiff, and you smell dookie.  Florida is a swamp essentially, and for some reason modern developers are not draining the land or building it up.  Aside from bad plumbing, this causes problems during hurricanes.  The areas flood, and the homes are more likely to be damaged.  The developments are new, and yet many already have bad roofs.  Black mold is also a problem.

My mom's irritation increased while driving.  I have to admit, my desire to drive was even more discouraged by the roadway design of this area.  There are tons of one-way streets and openings that you are not allowed to enter.  There are a lot of "No U-turn" signs.  What there isn't a lot of are signs indicating the correct direction or decorating entrances.  They will tell you when you are going the wrong way or which direction you are supposed to go in, but they don't tell you the right way to go.  We got lost in a maze of one way streets.  We could see the library, but we couldn't get there.  I called Stephany, and she said we had missed our turn.

After making an illegal U-turn, we finally found the correct entrance.  It was naughty, but we were afraid that if we kept going in the direction the signs told us we had to go, we would just get further away from our destination...and never be able to get back to it.  This was one of the reasons why it would have been a good idea to check this place out beforehand--we would have been better prepared for this.

I have never seen so many people glued to their phones in my life.  I have come to accept that most people are joined to their cell phones, but people in my area apparently are not as badly addicted.  When you smile at people in Southwest Ranches, they look away and don't smile back.  They look at their cell phone.  I didn't take offense because I don't think any was intended.  Oddly enough, I think it was a defense mechanism.  The funny thing is, though I live in an area that has drug dealers, the really nasty crime tends to happen in more well-to-do places.  The people's defense mechanisms partly may be responsible.  It gives you two ideas:  one, they are distracted...and two, they are snubbing you.  This is the wrong impression to give to a criminal mind.  Not that anybody deserves to be a victim, mind...it is just that sometimes some behaviors do make us more prone to being victims.

Southwest Regional Library...elegant building on the outside, but dark and a bit dingy on the inside.  Money was obviously spent on appearances...the facade.

I had to pee by then.  We go up to the front desk.  Stephany isn't there, but apparently she had called down to inform them that we were lost.  I decided to wait.  I don't wait long.

I was surprised by how young Stephany was.  I was expecting an older woman.  This was a young girl.  In appearance, she reminded me of Jennifer Carpenter--the woman that plays Dexter's sister in the TV series Dexter.  I heard Dexter's voice saying, "Deb puts up a tough girl image to hide how vulnerable she is inside."  Or something like that.

This girl didn't really have a tough girl image.  The resemblance was more physical.  She was friendly, but it seemed that she and the front desk man both seemed traumatized.  She said, "I can't touch the artwork! I only unlock the cases!"  I was like, "O-kay."

Apparently, though, there had been a problem with the last artist who had displayed his work.  His piece had been very heavy, and apparently the glass shelf that held it broke--and it came crashing down.  Whether they were just traumatized by property damage or the artist sued...I don't know the details there.

So we went to the cases...and again, I was reminded why I should have came before then.  I had tried to make my stuff small and light, but the one case was totally unsuitable for my larger pieces.  It was the type of bookcase you kept your DVDs in.  I was rather disappointed by the cases that were offered.  I had hoped to have the type that were more on eye level.  My Eldo sculpture would be at foot level.

Reluctantly, Stephany opened the wider display case (similar to the type of case we displayed jewelry in at the gift shop)--which had been the one that had broken.  I was worried whether the glass shelves would hold my sculptures.  Stephany was too.  I was disappointed that the shelves were not as clean as I would have liked them to be.  The back of the case was mirrored, which would show the back of the artwork...and the back of the labels that read "Publix Ice Cream Cones" and "Bush's Black Beans." While adjusting Yoda, I nearly caused the glass shelf to slip off its holder.  Stephany admired the Egyptian jewelry box I made and the pendant--having an interest in history.  The box actually isn't complete on the inside, but still she was amazed what I could do with some paper, flour paste, and joint compound.

And that was it as far as the display.  I was a little surprised.  I didn't know the end date of the exhibition (and still don't).  All that trouble, and there was nothing left to do.  It was done.

Meanwhile, my mom had traumatized the front desk guy more by asking where the bathroom was.  Apparently, he was new.  He asked, "Well, what are you planning to do?"  What...are...you...planning...to...do.  That is rather personal, isn't it?  It turns out, though, that he somehow got confused and thought it had something to do with the exhibit.  My mom said, "No, I have to pee!"

He said people often ask him where the bathrooms are.  They seem hard to find.  It turns out they are right next to the entrance on the sides.  I'm the faster pee-er, so I went first.  I was fascinated by the toilets.  They had specialty handles.  If you went #1, you were supposed to pull the handle up.  If you went #2, you were supposed to press the handle down.  It gave you the amount of water needed to get everything down--conserving water, but giving you enough.  It actually worked pretty good.  I was tempted to take a picture, but I was worried people would think I was weird...and besides, mom had to pee.

Personally, I think it is a mistake to make going to the bathroom too complicated.  It is already traumatizing to a child to potty train.  If it gets too complex, we will have a bunch of adults getting married in diapers.  Some things should be kept simple.

The drive back was much easier.  I was glad mom bought some easily-prepared food.  I was very tired afterwards and wound up taking a four hour nap.  If you do something like this, expect it to wipe you out--no matter how simple it seems.  And yes, it is definitely a good idea to check the place out before the actual exhibit.