Lessons in the Wind and Rain
Recently I had the privilege of participating in the much-loved New Art Festival in Central Park, (in the Glebe) in Ottawa. It's always a wonderful show with a tremendous variety of beautiful art for sale, from wearable to sculptural to the wall-ornamentation sort (paintings, photography). People come from all over the surrounding area to see what new delights are being created by about 170 juried artists. There's nothing pre-fabricated or mass-produced available there. Any purchase in the purchase of original art.
The downside to this celebration of art is that we cannot control the weather. And, being a 100% outdoors exhibition, one cannot ignore the weather. This year The New Art Festival was ushered in with chilly temperatures and rain (beginning at about 7:30 am during the setting up of tents). Temperatures remained unseasonably cold throughout the weekend, and we experienced very high winds during the night and on Sunday. I did see spots of sun emerging near closing time on Sunday. Needless to say, it was hardly the summery, balmy, sundress sort of weekend one hopes would accompany an outdoor art show!
Me entering my booth at the chilly New Art Festival (June 2016).
I have been on camping trips that involve rain. Rain is acceptable - even enjoyable - if one is sheltered and warm. If however, one must set up camp, or be paddling a canoe through downpours, rain becomes a very difficult - even dangerous - element. Rain has the ability to soak right through the skin to the very soul of some people, it seems! I smile, recalling one camping friend who visibly wilts in dejection and misery when he becomes soaked by heaven's tears.
Now take that rain, throw in some wind (the sort that blows over unsuspecting tents in the night, as happened at this event) and add it to a scenario in which beautiful things are on display, strangers are making conversation and hunkering down and hiding are simply not options! It becomes a challenge, but it also becomes a great learning experience. As well as admiring the art, I roam around looking at the rigging of tents, the ways in which they are moored, the preventative measures taken to keep the goods safe, dry and lovely. Furthermore, guests are more inclined to step into the tents, seeking shelter, but finding - to their delight - even more to admire about the art contained therein than they would have ever seen just wandering past, casting a glance.
I had some wonderful chats with strangers. I learned from them many things - things that went far beyond the exhibition and art. In most cases though, the catalyst to these conversations was, in fact, the art. I learned a great deal more about the insects I love to paint than I knew before. I reminisced with someone about how our cold weekend was a mere walk in the park (pun intended - and I enjoyed hearing a lot of those at the show too) compared to the bitterly cold, damp winters we had both experienced in New Zealand. I discovered that I must experience Vietnam, (by bicycling through it); see the crystal waters surrounding St. Miguel of the Azores; be awed by the biodiversity of the stunning Okavango Delta in Africa. I had the pleasure of meeting many adorable dogs that probably wondered what on earth had happened to their beloved park being inundated with tents and people. I learned about "lane splitting" versus "filtering" from a motorcyclist. I laughed at children's blunt and honest reactions to my work. I was taught what "flint knapping" is and was directed to the tent where I could see the results of such a skill.
Even in the wind and rain, there are great lessons to be learned, conversations to have, ideas to share and laughs to be had. It's all a matter of perspective. As one person said, "If this were January, we'd think this weather was great." He had an excellent point. Despite all the weather-related difficulties, it was a worthwhile and genuinely enjoyable weekend in Central Park!
