A Study in Gratitude 2011

So it has become my annual tradition to take a little time before Thanksgiving to reflect on all the great things in my life.  I have noted in previous posts that my life, as do all, has challenges.  The economy, small business, life, all pose issues that are not always easy.  This year in particular was challenging so I will begin with this.

I am grateful to have survived 2011 without a straight jacket.  It was a very busy year for PS:Gallery.  In February we opened with a bang in our new location at 1025 E. Walnut.  With all my attempts at planning a smooth move, it ended up being very chaotic.  However, with the help of many many many friends, we pulled it off.  I am awed and moved by the support of the community.  One cool Sunday in February, over 50 people showed up and helped us move, unpack, clean, set-up.  It was an amazing day I will never forget.  February 22nd kick started a week of opening events that were magical.  You sent flowers, notes and brought wine.  Most of all you were present.  You showed up to tell us the gallery was important to you.  It was a true confirmation that we had made the right move.

I am grateful to be in the North Village Arts District.  Although I loved our old location, I must say I love our new location more.  Let me start with the physical location.  I love my windows.  I love the light that streams in each morning.  I love the beautiful window in my office that makes me feel like I am connected with the outside even if I am stuck at my desk for a better part of the day.  I love the wonky wood floors.  They talk about the history and place that this building has in Columbia.  I love the giant wood beams.  To me they represent what the arts mean to the community.  They look good but really hold the whole thing up.  Without them the whole roof might come down.  I love the “Hallery”.  When the gallery moved it did not have any additional space in which to host our small community based shows such as the Care Gallery or our more thematic shows such as the Mini show.  Mid Summer PS opened the “Hallery”.  The “Hallery” is the lovely central corridor that connects PS to all it’s Berry Building neighbors.  This has become a delightful space that changes every 4-6 weeks.  I am grateful to be able to continue to have a space to do more for our community.

I love my neighbors.  For almost 5 years, PS was an art island.  I had clothing to the right of me and cookies to the left.  Although there is nothing wrong with either one of those things, they really weren’t invested in who I was, what I did, or if I was successful.  I am now surrounded by people who care.  Most who reside or work in the North Village Arts District have a similar goal, to promote the arts in Columbia, and to promote the North Village Arts District as one of the places to see/support the arts in Columbia.  The North Village Arts District began a farmers and artisan market this summer which was amazing and I can’t wait to see what happens with that next summer.  There is an energy and cohesion amongst the businesses that is refreshing.

I love my family.  I am eternally grateful for my husband Chris Stevens.  He keeps me sane (to some extent).  He supports me.  He loves me probably more than anyone else.  I am proud of him for taking a leap in his life and following his passion.  I am grateful to be doing what I love and always hope that more people make that opportunity for themselves.  I am grateful that Charlie has gotten old enough to really enjoy hanging out at the gallery (most of the time).  She accompanied me on a buying trip this summer and made a purchase of her very own.  She bonded with artist Amy Peters who makes very cute charm necklaces.  You can purchase one necklace with one charm for $7.50.  Once she has paid back her initial investment Charlie gets to keep a percentage of the profits.  So for Christmas add an Amy Peters necklace to your stocking stuffer list.

I am grateful for the fabulous artists who have become a part of my life.  My world is rich and colorful because of you.  This year, more than most, I realized how my personal relationships with my artists friends really enhances my life.  I am grateful for the amazing clients that I have been privileged to help.  Your faith in my abilities and trust in my judgement is gratifying.  I love nothing more that helping find the perfect piece for you.  I am grateful for all the purchases, big and small.  I am grateful for all the times you bragged that your fabulous new earrings were from PS:Gallery.  I am grateful for all the times you invited friends over for dinner and made a point of showing them your art.  I am grateful for your continued support.

As we gear up for the holidays, I remind you to keep supporting your local businesses.  Buy gifts/jewelry/food/cards locally.  See if you can finish up all your shopping without going on line.  I personally will gift wrap and ship anything you buy at the gallery.  Hows that for service?

Have a safe and Happy Thanksgiving.

Gratefully,

Jennifer Perlow

Bloggers Needed

Many of you may have noticed that over the summer our blog has grown.  Certainly the number of posts, but more notably in the quality of posts.  I fully credit that to Shea Boresi.  She came on as our new Associate Curator in June and took over the blog with gusto and I must say skill.  Unfortunately, blogs, at least this blog, does not pay the bills and so Shea has moved on to greener pastures.  We will miss her witty and insightful blogging.

So, your stuck with me.  I will do my best to muddle through.  I am not the brilliant writer that Shea is, but I have something to say.  I will post as often as I can find the time.  I am also going to make Joel Sager and Chris Stevens squeeze an interesting (hopefully) blog post out on occasion.  This brings me to the point of todays blog (finally).  We need you!  If you have something interesting to say, please email me with a blog post.  If I find it appropriate for our blog, I will post it as a guest blogger.  If you have an interesting topic that you would like to banter about via our blog, please contact me with that as well.  I think this blog is an interesting way to communicate about what is going on at PS:Gallery, Columbia, and the art world in general.  I look forward to hearing your feedback.  Oh, and please be kind, I’m doing the best I can.

 

Jennifer Perlow

jennifer@perlow-stevensgallery.com

Art is Power (to the People)

This is an open letter to the art-loving residents of Columbia, MO. 

Many of you know Kate Gunn, the director of the Artrageous program.  On the program’s blog, she makes a compelling case for the importance of art to a community’s economy.  With formidable citations, she quantifies some of ways in which art spreads prosperity, and why it is therefore a worthy investment even–or especially– in challenging economic times. 

[Check it out here.]

Of course, one would not want to reduce art’s value to its potential to generate money.  Its benefit to the human spirit and the fabric of a culture is ultimately priceless, but this truth sounds like ungrounded idealism during budget talks.  In the context of politics, it is important to note that, contrary to popular perception, art is not a generator of wealth only for an elite group.  A community’s cultural life—its art, music, plays, academic ideas, and the people who make these things—constitutes the community’s voice in wider society.  And this bears directly on the community’s economic strength and autonomy.

To put it on an individual and practical level:  People attending cultural events put money into the local economy, not only by buying tickets and art, but by spending their leisure time and money within the community.  Since Columbia’s locally owned businesses–including art venues, restaurants, and retail stores–are concentrated in the District, this is especially true here.  Visiting a gallery and then going out for dinner is not only a pleasant way to spend the evening, it supports people on all levels of the local economy, from table bussers, to artists, to restaurant and gallery owners.  This creates good jobs, and keeps wealth in the community; it stimulates the economy and helps it rebound in a healthy way.

While it should be apparent that art does not only benefit the set of people who bid on pieces in high-stakes auctions, it remains politically popular to relegate art to status of being a luxury.  True, art cannot be ladled into bowls and fed to hungry people.  But any forward-looking recovery plan must both reduce suffering and bolster the industries that will generate a healthy economy for the future.  Certainly, art is one of those industries. 

Arts advocates had to fight to keep the arts from being excluded from receiving stimulus funding.  In her article, Gunn cites an amendment proposed by Senator Tom Coburn (R-OK), which would have prevented arts groups from receiving economic recovery funds.  The amendment would have blocked stimulus funds from being applied to “any casino or other gambling establishment, aquarium, zoo, golf course, swimming pool, stadium, community park, museum, theatre, art center, and highway beautification project.”   Initially, the proposal passed by a wide margin—76 to 24—but, in the end, the National Endowment for the Arts won modest funding.  This reflects an ongoing battle.

In her conclusion, Gunn states:

The Art Industry comprises not only of museums, galleries and theatres, but also artists, performers, musicians, and dancers.  The Arts Industry is unique in its ability to impact a wide range of industries, entire societies, and also support schools and governments.  By generating billions of dollars in annual revenue, the Arts are able to provide an economic catalyst on the local, state, and national levels.  Additionally, these economic impacts are felt by restaurants, hotels and retailers who benefit from traffic generated by arts programming.  As studies indicate, areas with prospering art institutions aid an area in becoming, or maintain, an appealing place to live, visit, and conduct business.

Recent economic hardships have impaired the arts industry, slashing funding and forcing some institutions and programming to close entirely.  Declining endowments, the banking crisis, cuts in state and federal funding, and a lowered consumer demand have all impacted the arts leaving many institutions unable to pay staff, continue programming or performances, or even keep their doors open.

It is my own conclusion that art can save us, but first we have to save art.  For it to receive the support it needs, we must defend its value—personally, in the art we generate, in the words we use, and in how we spend our time and money, and also politically.  This is not an abstract idea.  At stake is quality of your own community and your own life.

So go make something, and share it.  Or see what others are making–come to the gallery.  The next Artrageous Weekend is October 7th and 8th–coinciding with the opening of the autumn exhibit at PS:, on Saturday the 8th, 6-9 pm. 

As always, thank you for supporting the arts!

-Shea

North Village News: Matt Ballou at Orr Street Studios

Drawings by Matthew Ballou; Photo by August Kryger for Columbia Daily Tribune

University of Missouri professor, and past PS:Gallery artist, Matt Ballou has an exhibition around the corner at Orr Street Studios.  We were proud to feature his prints, and I recommend that you go check out his latest work, which focuses on his classroom art.

I am grateful to have had the opportunity to talk with him about his show for the following story in today’s Sunday edition of the Columbia Daily Tribune.

http://www.columbiatribune.com/news/2011/sep/25/defying-gravity-with-mud/

-Shea

Offending Midwesterners: Contemplating the value of kindness in regional art

My mother’s parents grew up in Anamosa, Iowa, the same small town where Grant Wood was born.  He is the area’s claim to fame.  In my grandmother’s telling, he was considered “too modern” in his hometown during his lifetime—those “cotton ball” trees, and the implicit critique of the stiff couple in “American Gothic.”  But, if you go there now, you’ll see his name on billboards.

In my family, tradition holds that the house in the background of “American Gothic” was a farmhouse belonging to a relative of mine.  It doesn’t really matter if that’s true.   Probably, many of my grandparents’ peers identify with the painting.  There is satire in it, but also something like Norman Rockwell’s nostalgia.  If the piece is a jibe at its subjects, it is an affectionate one.

Wood’s iconic painting has been the first image in my mind associated with Midwestern Regional art.  Suffice it to say that I was unfamiliar with the work of contemporary print-maker Tom Huck.

Yesterday, I stopped in Sedalia, Missouri, at the State Fair Community College campus, where I had been advised there is an excellent museum of contemporary art.  The collection at the Daum Museum is, indeed, worth stopping for; the permanent collection includes striking glasswork by Dale Chihuly, an entrancing silkscreen portrait by Chuck Close, and a wonderfully bizarre ceramic sculpture by Michael Lucero.  The current temporary exhibition is the work of Tom Huck.  A small sign warns that “discretion is advised.”

The black and white woodcuts are of impressive scale and uniformly grotesque subject matter: misshapen characters engaged in complex scenes of violence, gluttony, and orgies.  Inspired by the local lore of his native Potosi, Missouri, his work is a brutal critique of life out of the mainstream and under the skin of rural Missouri.  I suspect the artist would agree that he pushes beyond the boundaries of good taste.  I also suspect he doesn’t care.

This is emphatically not the gentle satire of Grant Wood.  The residents of Potosi will never erect commemorative plaques for Huck.  (He lives and works in the relatively metropolitan haven of St. Louis.)

But his work does command fascination.  The intricacy is boggling, and if one ignores the repellant nature of the subjects, the compositions on whole are beautiful.  In the company of the sanctified likes of Warhol at the Daum, it begs the question: Are offensiveness and greatness in art related?

Is the distance between Wood and Huck an indication that, in the 79 years between “American Gothic” and “The Transformation of Brandy Baghead,” we have fallen from subtlety into uncouthness?    Should art strive for elevation or is there merit in unflinching critique?  Finally, is kindness in art a strength or a weakness?

In my short time at PS:, the only “regional art” we’ve shown has been landscapes: the oil painted streetscapes of Steven Rust, and  Notley Hawkins’ photo scenes of glistening dilapidation.  And perhaps there is a kindred strain between Grant Wood and Joel Sager’s affectionately melancholy domestic subjects.  But imagine seeing Tom Huck’s monstrous masterpieces here.  What would you think?

-Shea

High Summer at the Gallery

Memories of Grecian beaches sweetly fading, I return to business here at PS.  Earlier this week, we finished arranging the summer exhibit.  I think it’s perfect for July, but come see for yourself–now or at the opening on July 16^th. (Or both.)

When you walk in the door, you are greeted by the tropical colors of oil paintings by Brian D. Smith.  These intuitive, abstract paintings transition into Bob Maes’ mixed media pieces, which are more structured but no less bold.  Maes has a gift for transforming humble materials (washers, aluminum foil, paper bags) into iconic objects.  These give way to Rob Williams’ glossy, abstractly floral canvases, which round out what I think of as the “loud and proud” part of the show.

The other half of the exhibit is composed of subtler gems, including the glasswork of Columbia artist Susan Taylor Glasgow.  Her pieces comment on feminine domesticity by using beautiful but brittle glass to represent baked goods and ladies’ undergarments.  Our front window is filled with her inedible, tempting creations.

Alongside this is the minutely detailed fiber work of Mary Beth Yates.  These creations of embroidered silk organza evoke life at the cellular level, and hold the layers of the artist’s experience in their textured layers.

Finally, there is the latest from our own Joel Sager: a set of portraits with a delicate palette of blues and pinks.  The subjects’ faces are expressive but restrained, and seem vulnerable.   The understated series leaves the viewer contemplating the unplumbed depths behind the faces framed in uniform blonde wood.

And, if all of this sounds great… but you really want something shiny to round out your outfit, we have that too.  This week, we received jewelry from new-to-PS artist Alley Maranto, of Chicago.  The collection (pictured) is called Relicware, and features amulets created from small objects (a horse nail, a sea horse, fan coral, watch gears) set against a gold background and cast in resin.  These pieces range from moderate pendants to a striking cluster of pearls and charms.  They all seem to have a little magic in them.  Try them on.  (I do.)

The opening (Saturday, July 16, 6-9) promises to be a great party.  See you there!

Shea

Okay, one more picture:

Light at the end of the tunnel

Next week the Summer 2011 exhibit opens at PS:Gallery.  This will be our third exhibit in our great new gallery space.  If you have not been by please make plans to do so soon.  The next reception is July 16th and is not to be missed.

In addition to opening the new gallery space in February, I have also spent the last nine months working with Rene Heider of Deck the Walls as the art consultant for the new Boone Hospital patient tower.  It was an amazing, exhilarating, exhausting, and educational expereience.  Here is an article from Aarik Danielsen from the Tribune that sheds a little more light (and some images) on the project. http://www.columbiatribune.com/news/2011/jun/26/artful-avenues-line-new-boone-hospital-tower/?arts

It has been a busy and very fullfilling year.  I turn 40 next month.  I am going to a beach.  I am going to relax and enjoy some downtime and wonder what the next year holds in store.

Jennifer

n+1: Guidelines for Openings

My friend Elaine tagged me on facebook in the following post.  I love our openings.  I love talking with people.  I enjoy the energy.  I don’t take myself as seriously as this post implies, but it was a really fun read.  Many of the items are spot on.  Our next opening is February 26th.  This will be one of the biggest events in a while as it is our GRAND OPENING of the new PS:Gallery space at 1025 E. Walnut in Columbia Missouri.  Hope to see you there, maybe if I catch your eye I will send you an air kiss.

Jennifer

 

 

n+1: Guidelines for Openings.

 

To celebrate the third printing of I Like Your Work: Art and Etiquette, we’re featuring this excerpt from the book, which previously appeared at Paper Monument.

1. You must attend openings. When you’re Bruce Nauman, you can be a hermit in New Mexico. Until then however, you have to attend openings. Why? If you’re young, it’s important to find out how things work, to meet your colleagues, to find out what’s out there in the world, and ultimately, perhaps, to learn how to behave at openings. If you’re mid-career, you must go out to support the colleagues you met at the earlier stage of your respective careers. If you’re older, it’s important to support colleagues, still, but now also students, and / or other members of the younger generation who will see you as a mentor. Other slightly noble reasons: if you’re obsessed with art and you have to see things as soon as you’re able, and if you really, honestly, love art—talking about it, interacting with it, talking to people responsible for making, distributing, promoting, and critiquing it. If you love it, then it’s not work. Artists, critics, and curators stay vital when they’re interacting with their peers. If you’re young and you hate openings, there’s a noble history of outsider artists living in insane asylums and working as janitors who are discovered long after they’ve died. If you’re old and you hate openings, it’s likely your best years are behind you, and you think all art but the stuff you and your peers made is shit. I hope your few years of past relevance allow you to retire to your television.

2. You must greet and congratulate the dealer and the artist(s) at the opening. All other greetings are situational: a friendly nod if you catch somebody’s eyes is completely acceptable, as are a passing pat, an air kiss, or any preferred method of casual greeting in a crowded opening where you may know half the crowd.

3. The dealer is required to provide alcohol and non-alcohol to all the guests. This can be as simple as a tub of beer and bottled water. It can be fancy wines and freshly squeezed juices, cheese platters, and a bow-tied bartender. There ought to be alcohol for at least the first two hours of a three-hour opening. The last hour is usually best, but not if there’s no alcohol.

4. If the dealer and/or artist(s) ask you how you like the show during the opening, try to find something polite to say. If they insist on a real opinion, they’ve got whatever you have to say coming.

5. Be briefed on at least three recent things that you can be congratulatory about: recent exhibitions seen and enjoyed, exhibitions you would like to see and enjoy but have not been able to make yet for whatever reason, recent successes by colleagues.

6. If you’re an artist, critic, or curator, someone will inevitably ask you what you’re working on. It’s good to have either two projects that can be mentioned briefly, or one project that can be mentioned in more depth—though still kept within the bounds of appropriate party chatter. In different cities, artists, critics, and curators take different tacks on describing their workload. In Los Angeles, artists must always look like they are rested and fresh. In New York, the more haggard and hardworking you look the better. It’s always appropriate to be on your way to or to have just returned from international travel, e.g., “I just got back from being in this biennial in Prague, but I’ve only a couple of weeks to get on my feet before I have to have some meetings in London.”

7. Usually the rapid coming and going of people at an opening allows for quick conversational turnover, but if you get stuck in a bad conversation with someone and you’re outside, say, “I’m just going to pop in and look at the show.” If you’re inside, say, “I’m just going to pop out for some air/a cigarette.” If they’re still following you, go to the bathroom.

8. If you don’t know anyone at an opening, (unlikely after a few years going to openings but nevertheless), then it’s relatively easy to engage with people looking at the work or at the beer bucket. The more people you can attend the opening with, the easier it may be to weave yourself into the social web.

9. Try not to get too drunk on the cheap white wine/cheap beer at the opening: afterwards, at the bar or at dinner, it’s more acceptable. But you still have to be able to walk out of the bar at the end of the evening. Unless, of course, you don’t want to, in which case you can likely get away with being a drunk for many years as long as you don’t punch people too often.

10. The dinner after the opening can only be attended if you’re invited formally, beforehand, or by the dealer or artist during the opening—except if it’s a very wealthy gallery having a very large dinner where no one is sure who’s invited and who isn’t, and you know a few people there. Somebody always doesn’t show, and either way you’re welcome to stay at the bar or smoke outside while things mix up. N.B.: this only works at certain restaurants. In Los Angeles, the best place to crash is Dominic’s.

11. Whoever you sit next to at the dinner determines your rank in the pecking order, according to the gallery. If you sit next to the artist, it’s likely you’re wealthy, the artist’s best friend, or an important curator. If you sit behind the potted plant next to the artist’s third cousin, it’s likely you’re a critic. This can be accepted temporarily—as the dinner breaks up, there is great mobility in seating arrangements. (This is dependent on the size of the dinner and the choreography of the event.)

12. Business can always be discussed at openings and dinners, provided you observe the protocols. Artists can never directly invite dealers to visit their studios, unless a strong rapport has already been established. Artists can, however, talk about what they’re working on, and the excitement that others have for the work, e.g., “I just finished the installation about Hekabe with the really ornate collage. Hans Ulrich stopped by on his way through and said it looked like Vito Acconci on acid.” Curators can corner dealers for specific works. Critics can, and should, get whiskey for free.

SEASONAL NOSTALGIA

Below is a review, published by ereview out of Kansas City, written by our former intern Valeria Turturro.

By Valeria Turturro December 20, 2010

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A review of Fall Exhibit 2010

Jo Stealey, “Napkin Study,” pecan, boxelder and ginko leaves, silk organza, thread, and vintage textiles; 32″ x 33″. Image: courtesy of the gallery and artist 

Perlow-Stevens Gallery
Columbia, Missouri
September 29 — December 30, 2010

Fall is the most nostalgic of seasons. As the year draws to an end, like dusk at the end of the day, fall prepares us for the dark, cold winter ahead. It’s a time of reflection, really. How fitting, then, that the fall exhibition at PS:Gallery is full of just that reflective nostalgia. Here two University of Missouri faculty members, Brett Grill and Jo Stealey, show work that is diverse in media but complementary in tone.

Brett Grill’s paintings are collections of memories and mementos. Seeing Knicknacks and Novocain the viewer loses site of the man, woman, and child in the painting and writes them off as fellow forgotten objects. As the people are presumably asleep on a bench, their laps strewn with a doll, boxes, and playing cards, they blend in with their surrounding.

The painting as a whole is reminiscent of I Spy books. “I spy an old birdcage, a preserved wooden chair, and an old wagon wheel.” The viewer’s eyes never tire from picking out some new detail and wondering about the sentiment behind each item.

Brett Grill, “Knicknacks and Novocain,” oil on linen, 62″ x 67″. Image: courtesy of the gallery and artist 

The old household items and toys lie like pieces of the past, as if they represent the memories of how this family once was, now that the child is grown and no longer the innocent boy asleep on his father’s lap.

In Small Monument, people are absent but photographs take their place. Most of the items are attached with price tags, showing that no matter what personal value they once had, they’ve now been reduced back to what they originally were: another thing to be bought. Each of these things — the globe, the tabletop sculptures from foreign lands, a well-used cake mixer — pay tribute to a certain memory. They’re monuments to years past.

Most of Grill’s paintings are subdued in color, although not monotone in any sense. A murky, hazy quality of light hangs over each of these works like a fading memory.

Jo Stealey’s art seems to be a beautiful ode to fall, fragility, and history. In her fiber art, she threads together leaves and silk into delicate keepsakes that appear to have been handed down from generation to generation. Napkin Study is a beautiful rendition of a traditional heirloom, like a doily made by nature. The faded brown leaves seem to have withstood years of use, like the special textile that sits in a grandparent’s immaculate home.

Jo Stealey, “Seduction,” scrub oak leaves and thread, 17″ x 21″. Image: courtesy of the gallery and artist 

In Seduction and Heirloom, leaves are layered to form a natural fabric; thread is stitched onto the leaves, which would not seem to withstand even the slightest handling, let alone such needlework, and the effect is mesmerizing. With a ribbon sewn at the top, Seduction resembles an apron made of leaves. And with this, Stealey furthers her study of the home and domesticity. Not only is needlework a traditionally female craft, but Stealey’s creations are also comments on the roles women have taken up and continue to examine. The leaves in further remind us that nature cycles yearly. The leaves will always fall and then grow back and then fall once more. They’re transient but dependable. They’re also another connection to history and a heritage.

Henry David Thoreau wrote that we should live in each season as it passes and resign ourselves to the influences of each. In Grill’s artwork, we resign ourselves to the nostalgia of memories and the melancholy tendencies of fall; in Stealey’s, we reconsider our own connection with nature and the lifelong cycles it takes us through.

-re-

A Study in Gratitude-remix

I thought that on the night before Thanksgiving it would be appropriate to re-post my Thanksgiving post from last year. Some things have changed.  Charlie is 8 now, Clayton 15.  The gallery is moving from the beautiful Hays Building to 1025 E. Walnut, the beautiful Berry Building.  Some things have not.  The economy still struggles, therefore so do we.

I am still grateful for the opportunity to do what I love with people I love.  Happy Thanksgiving.

Jennifer

Above is a picture that my seven year old daughter painted of me.  I keep it at my desk to remind me of the good things in my life.  I work at being a glass half full person.  I am a small business owner.  I do own an art gallery in a challenging market, during a very challenging economy.  I have plenty of opportunities for growth that I could talk about, but not today.  Today is a study in gratitude.  I have a sign in my office that hangs on a wall just beside the door.  It reads “This is the best month ever”.  It has hung there for about two years now.  I have friends who kid me about the sign, but in reality This IS the best month ever.  Let me tell you why.

I am grateful to have a happy, healthy, and beautiful daughter who can come hang out at work with me.  I am grateful (and somewhat amazed) that in second grade she knows who Picasso is, and allows herself to be inspired by his work.  I am grateful to have the opportunity to send her to a public school that celebrates the arts.  I am grateful to go to a school assembly and hear an amazing drumming troupe.  I am grateful to walk through the halls and see rich artwork done by incredible children.

I am grateful to have a step-son in high school who still thinks art is cool.  I am grateful that he brags to his friends that his parents own an art gallery instead of hiding it.  I am grateful that he is handsome, smart, and incredibly sure of himself.  I love watching him talk to people at the openings.  He wears a name tag that says “Clayton Stevens, Owner”.  I am grateful that at 14 he has a sense of ownership in the gallery.

I am grateful to walk in a space every morning that is beautiful and fills my soul.  The gallery resides in the old Hays Hardware building.  It has white washed brick walls, an old elevator shaft, and a beautiful glass transom in the front of the building.  It is warm and inviting.  It provides the perfect backdrop for art.  It is easy, day in and day out, to take your environment for granted.  Sometimes when I am frustrated or discouraged I go sit on a bench in the middle of the gallery and breath in the beauty that surrounds me.

I am grateful to live in a community that values art enough to support it.  I am grateful to live in a city that has a percent for art program.  I am grateful to live in a city that has great public art.  I remember as a child growing up in Columbia, passing the Flying French Fries or “La Colomba” as the sculpture is actually titled.  I am grateful to live in a community that I am proud to tell people about.  In addition to all the visual arts venues, we also have a great live music scene, independent film, and theater.  For a town of this size we are very fortunate to have the arts community that we have.  I, for one, am grateful for that.

I am grateful for the amazing customers that we have.  I am grateful for the support and encouragement that each of them provide.  I am grateful for the people who know when I am hanging a new show and make a point to be one of the first to see it.  I am grateful for the people who make art a priority in their lives.  I am grateful for the people who have my postcard hanging on their fridge.  I am honored to be a part of your lives.

I am grateful for the incredible artists who trust me with their work.  I am grateful to be surrounded by creativity.  I am grateful to know many of the gallerie’s artists on a deeply personal level.  I am privileged to be able to experience the creation of art first hand.  I am proud of the part I play in bringing said art to the community.

I am grateful to have two wonderful employees who work for peanuts, because they love PS:Gallery.  Joel whom has been with me from the beginning, is invaluable (read the previous post about Joel if you want to know how much I truly appreciate him).  Sarah, who started as an intern soon after we opened is now my gallery assistant.  I am grateful that they know that in many ways the gallery is as much theirs as it is mine.  I am grateful to have the ability to leave and not worry about what might happen.  I am grateful that often my desk is cleaner after they have worked than after I have worked.

I am grateful to all of the people whom I have worked for and worked with that have helped prepare me for this.  I don’t have a degree in business or in art for that matter.  Somehow along the way, I have obtained the skill sets I needed to run a business.  I have had some pretty incredible mentors.  I will always be grateful for them.

Mostly, I am grateful for my husband.  I am grateful that every day he puts on a suit and tie and goes to work so I am able to run the gallery that he always dreamed of opening.  I am grateful that he has complete faith in my ability to run the gallery that bears our names.   I am grateful that he is as crazy as I am and rarely questions what we are doing.  I am grateful that even though my messy office drives him (and many others) crazy, he doesn’t say anything most of the time.

Thanks to all of you who allow me to do the work I love.  I am grateful.