Meaningful Conversations
Photo credits (clockwise from top left: Diane Maddox, Ansel Lee, Helena Lopes, Mohan Nannapaneni
The way we participate in conversation is one of factors that distinguish humans from animals. There is a vast spectrum of conversation types, from brief and fluffy to long and profound - and everything in between. Conversations are also layered with other forms of communication like body language, intonation, volume, speed and so on.
As an introvert, I can manage a good deal of conversation as long as I’ve got a good deal of quiet time to recharge afterwards. I don’t dislike conversing, but my preference is for one-on-one meaningful, non-rushed, authentic discussion (by “discussion” I mean a two-way conversation in which both parties take time to listen and to speak). A flurry of hasty, superficial chats is survivable, and indeed it needs to be as that sort of conversation typically occurs at art events; however, that style of fast and furious chatter is depleting for me over the course of time.
When I began exhibiting my art, in a very humble, small way at Stratford’s lovely Art in the Park, under the trees just down the road from the world-renowned Stratford Festival Theatre, conversation was a major stressor for me. I was new at the whole exhibition thing. I didn’t know what was expected. I felt a deep tension of wondering whether to give visitors a nice large berth, letting them quietly peruse the art without being pestered, versus wondering whether I should approach, chat, provide stories about the art and be physically nearby. Some of this, I suppose, is an intuitive thing that one develops over time. I suspect retail workers/salespeople are quite adept at assessing the situation from afar and taking appropriate action. Nevertheless, those early days of exhibiting were stressful and wrought with uncertainty. Was I losing a sale by being too eager and friendly (maybe perceived as “needy”), or quite possibly by being too distant, unapproachable and aloof?! I was (and still am) awed by the assertion of a seasoned artist from that first venue. He said he could tell, from across the park, if a potential patron wanted to make a purchase of one of his pieces. Oh to have such skills! I cannot personally make any such claims!
My first season ever doing outdoor art exhibits (Stratford’s Art in the Park, 2008)
Over time I’ve relaxed a bit about exhibition conversations, but honestly still usually feel nervous before the show begins. Fortunately, I no longer take it personally if someone doesn’t respond to my greeting or has no interest in my style of work. While I like to learn about people who are stopping by my little patch of exhibition space (for example, in an outdoors art market), but I risk getting pulled into long stories shared by lonely folks who just want to chat. Because I find it difficult to extract myself from such situations, I have previously experienced an underlying anxiety because I cannot give the speaker my full attention as I need to be available for other guests too. I don’t do well at multitasking, so it seems I will need to revise my priorities.
There is increased tranquility when I settle within myself that the object of my art display is simply for me to be available to participate in whatever conversations may be valuable. My recent Vernissage at St. Peter & St. Paul’s Anglican Church in Ottawa was an example of one such peaceful experience. It was a quiet affair – perhaps I chose a poor time for it – nevertheless, it meant that there was opportunity to really tune in and dialogue with those who came, without my feeling pressure to rush off to the next guest. It was after that event that I decided I’d like to blog about “Meaningful Conversations”.
One man who was present for virtually the entire event was Canon Brent Stiller (“Canon” being a term for clergy in an Anglican Church, so I learned). He, however, was keen that I just call him Brent. It was Brent whose passion for reconnecting art with the Church and Worship led to the creation of a designated space in their building renovations to exhibit and showcase art, thus creating the “Gallery Lobby.” Despite being the “lead guy” at the church, it was Brent who opened the building, and was available to help set up my show. It was also Brent who, according to his wife, carefully selected and laid out the refreshments for the Vernissage. It was Brent who kept popping in to greet visitors and have friendly conversation with them and myself. I was impressed and humbled at how much his actions expressed his passion for the cause because he was there and present rather than delegating the task to administrative personnel or a volunteer.
My beloved cheerleader-husband and I outside the Lobby Gallery of St. Peter & St. Paul’s Anglican Church in downtown Ottawa
(Photo by Brent Stiller)
I had a wonderful conversation with Brent’s wife, Karen. She is a writer with one book under her belt (and another one on the way); she is also the editor of a monthly magazine, to name a few accomplishments. The unique thing was that neither she nor Brent needed to talk about themselves for long. They were happy to do so to an extent, but always opened the door for participation from me. I found there were quite a few parallels between my experience of creating and selling art to Karen’s experiences of writing. There were similar struggles and challenges. It was a really refreshing conversation – “worth the price of admission” I went home and told my husband. I had conversations with them and other guests that day that really filled up my tank, making me desirous of further connection and conversation with them. I packed up feeling grateful and was warmly sent home with the remaining generous Brent-Snack-Selections.
Little did I know that a few short weeks later this lovely man who was so full of “joie de vivre” and encouragement would suddenly and shockingly pass away. I was deeply affected by his death. I’m still processing it. And I met the man only about three times! I cannot fathom the depth of loss his family and friends must feel, having known him so much more intimately than I ever did. Death is jarring, but all the more when it strikes from out of the blue. In considering the drastic, permanent implications of this tragedy, the meaningful conversations I had the privilege to enjoy with Brent gained even more gravity and importance. Those chats made me want to know him and Karen more, but also stirred in me a desire to be peacefully present with people when I converse, just like they were with me. There are things more important than selling my art.
At Brent’s funeral, I loved what his son called him: Saint Brent, the Encourager. What a legacy. What a reason to value each conversation and make them count. There’s much to be missed out on if we race through life and conversation in a distracted way. People are little treasure troves, but often it takes some time and digging to find that treasure. Meaningful conversation is a wonderful “shovel”. Some folks, like Brent, shine with obvious treasure stores, but unearthing the treasure in others requires a bit more work; some people even hide their treasure! I’d like to be a patient, caring “digger” through meaningful conversation, in order that our world is a wealthier place from the treasure I find.
Thank you for helping teach me a priceless lesson, Brent Stiller.
Thank you for taking the time to see treasure in me.
Rest in Peace.
