One: Opening

opening, exhibitions, cocreation, recovery
Caged off

Opening receptions require a lot of planning and expense. Tensions mount when things beyond our control block our efforts to welcome the public. Things like the city deciding to put in a new roadway leaving a deep pit right in front of the door to the gallery.

The boardwalk


Quite oblivious to the tension I arrived at the gallery just on time to solve the problem of parking in the labyrinth of cement blocks. Apparently the city workers had installed the temporary entrance just an hour before guests were to arrive. Whew! As I bounced toward the door I made a mental note about plywood: half inch is not enough for the shed flooring. I live a varied life!

Excellent wine and wisdom

Opening to talk

As usual, the wine and cheese were excellent, the company divine. Old friends and new wandered through the door. I chitchatted with the other artists and welcomed anyone who was interested in discussing the motivation behind what I do. I gave an opening to Mike Holden to delve into the thought processes behind his interesting work. He had filled in for another artist who had withdrawn from the show. My granddaughter, not quite fifteen months, particularly liked the wolf head Mike had created. Its eyes light up and every time she went by she growled her approval.

The wolf head


We shared some thoughts on spirit led creations. One of Mike’s paintings depicted an old prophesy about a black snake gobbling up all that native people held dear. I suggested it had certainly come true. Taking the opportunity I told him upon my return to Canada after thirteen years in Australia, I attended the University of Saskatchewan to study for a teaching certificate. One of the seminars I attended had been on native history where the prof had introduced the idea of genocide. I was horrified then and continue to be.



Looking at my own experience in overcoming trauma, I told him it had taken me double the time to find the balance in my life than it had to destroy it. A two-hundred-year-old wound cannot be healed overnight. I expressed my desire to help and my frustration with how little I seemed to be doing. Mike glanced over at my work and told me I was helping already.


Opening my heart to the Spirit in my life and my work unites me to the world and the universe. Artists enjoy a special capacity to be one. We are on a journey together and hope reigns in the union. Life is good.