Back to the Bankby Celia Sage.
Four months before: Find out that time slot has opened up at cooperative
gallery and "it's your turn". Panic.
Three & 1/2 months before: On your day to sit gallery, look at
walls. Imagine your paintings filling that space. Think large. Set mental
quota of work needed.
Painting well. Feel energized -- on a roll. Inspiration to burn.
Three months before: Engage in combat with painting; feel pressure
to make it work because you need "x" number for show.
Finally give up on one large painting after weeks of struggle. Regret wasted
time. Try to be philosophical, but feel inspiration level dropping, like
gas in a gas tank. Just enough to coast in.
Seven weeks before: Have title for show occur to you out of the blue.
Too gimmicky? Too bad -- it fits. Begin to visualize classy little invitations.
Indulge in daydream of crowds of well-heeled collectors flocking to opening.
Six weeks before: Finish paintings -- almost. Need smaller brush
to finish details and signatures.
Arrange paintings around living room, dining room, studio -- wherever they
look good. Try to imagine them on gallery walls. Wonder why they suddenly
look smaller -- less impressive. Despair.
Five & 1/2 weeks before: Get estimate from printer for invitations.
Gasp. Consider doing it yourself at spouse's office. Come to your senses.
Plan to save money by hand-delivering most of them.
Five weeks before: Bribe friend with offer of a glass of wine to
come over and take photos of work for invitations. She admires work, predicts
the show will be a great hit. Walk on air. Have two glasses.
Realize that press time for arts newsletter has passed. Phone and plead
for time to submit write-up about show. Obtain mercy. Crank out piece --
feel phony writing about yourself in third person.
Four weeks before: Labor at computer over copy for invitation. Look
for just the right font. Arty? Sophisticated? Traditional? Too much information?
Too little? Map to gallery? Too little white space? What size font should
name be? Is the title too corny? Is it corny to have a title?
Sweet-talk spouse into setting a date to frame paintings for you. Beg him
not to take paintings to carpenter friend's workshop. You can just see
a saw blade going through your best canvas.
Three and 1/2 weeks before: Confer with printer about invitation
size. Conclude that oversized looks better and won't cost that much
more to mail -- besides, most will be hand-delivered.
Three weeks before: Invitations look great! Feel professional. Find out
at Post Office that they cost $.90 each to mail. Despair. Bite the bullet
and mail some anyway. Carry the rest around in your purse, arranged geographically.
Hand them out to near-strangers and people who might in some way feel obligated
to attend.
Two weeks before: Attend somebody else's opening. Shamelessly distribute
your own invitations.
One & 1/2 weeks before: Measure paintings for framing. Price
them at the same time. Agonize. Consult records. Change mind several times.
Finally get around to getting small brush for details and signatures.
One week before: Spouse and carpenter friend bring friend's tools
to studio to do framing. Feed them.
Six days before: Buy brown paper from photographer-friend (a true
resource). Borrow glue from the kids. Put backing on paintings. Admire.
Five days before: Deliver paintings to gallery. Make last minute
decision to leave one at home. Someone comments that you should have brought
more. Sigh.
Four days before: Plan food for opening. Consider budget, season,
time of day, time available to make stuff. No list; have time only to do
improvisational shopping. Grab anything that looks elegant. How many will
be there? Be optimistic. Hope you've bought enough.
Day of opening: Attend arts luncheon. Feel intimidated. Be embarrassed
when friend plugs your show in his speech -- inwardly, you're going, "Yes!".
Stop in gallery afterward: calculate how many cups, napkins needed -- how
much coffee does urn take?
Three hours before: Go home. Feign calm.
One hour before: Running late! Panic. Press children into service
cutting fresh flowers and celery. Decide on shoes. Forget CD player.
*********
The day after: Relief. Feel disappointed at who didn't come, surprised
at who did. Acknowledge that the ones you would have been really annoyed
with had they not come -- did. One red sticker so far (a barter actually,
but it looks good). Tortillas rolls were a hit. Coffee was too strong.
Hear daily: "I'm sorry we weren't able to make it to your show. How
did it go?" Don't know how to gauge it; just know you were talking
the whole evening so someone must have been there. Allude to the fact that
the show is still on for a few more weeks... hope they can make it.
Look for an excuse to go to the gallery and read the guest book.
Back to the Bank