Rock RIver Artists Open Studio - Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm

One of the things that I like most about our Open Studio tour is the array of interesting visitors that attend. I am sure that every studio gets its share of characters. For me, the most memorable was a mother, her daughter and a friend. To start with, the little girl looked like Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm.  She was neatly attired in attractive shorts and top and sported an old-style straw hat complete with ribbon on the back. She appeared somewhat rigid, almost at attention, as she wandered around the studio with her mother. It was clear that she had been prompted as to the proper demeanor that was expected in an art studio. She carefully examined different pieces and purposefully asked surprisingly appropriate questions about each piece for an eight or nine year old girl.

With her mother in the background, she very formally introduced herself to me and asked if she would be permitted to take photos in the studio. She asked me to pose with her with one of the stranger sculptures there. I learned that her mother had given her $100.00 to spend on art during the tour. I was intrigued with the fact that the mother was purposefully teaching her daughter how to handle herself in what was clearly a new situation for the girl. How cool!

I had moved on to speak with another visitor when the little girl walked up to me and said, “Excuse me sir. I would like to make a purchase.” I asked her which piece she was interested in and she pointed to a small sculpture. The girl had asked me earlier what the piece was and I had replied that I did not really know, but it had always reminded me of a rooster. I went on to explain that it was one of a group of pieces that I had done called “Fences” in which I explored the intent of fences … are they to keep things out … or to keep things in? Anyway, it was the piece she wanted.

As I wrapped the piece for the girl, I asked, “So, what does the piece look like to you? What made you choose it”? I was speechless at her reply. She informed me that the piece looked like her dad’s torn rotator cuff and that she was getting it for a present for him during his recovery from surgery.

Finally, I have found the niche that I sought. I thought the artwork that I hung in porta-potties was my destiny … but not anymore. Injury art is my calling. Ideas are already swirling around in my brain about future pieces … the psoriasis of the liver series … the broken pelvis sculpture … and constipation – my dark years.

I am an artist. I have a destiny.