Mermaids

When I was a young impressionable girl with a wild imagination, I wanted to be a mermaid. I would drape pearls and beads around my neck, hibiscus in my hair and run around the orange trees in our yard. I'd examine the patterns in my vinyl swimming pool looking for traces of mermaids and magical things. The sides were blue and had a patten like finger prints. It was mesmerizing. Having grown up on Florida's Gulf Coast I loved water. My parents took my brother and I to Weeki Wachee Springs one Saturday afternoon.
My life was never the same.
We saw the mermaids perform their underwater show. Back then, the mermaids lived in small cabanas at the back of the property. I wanted nothing more than to be one of them.

Sirens of the sea have guarded ships by crowning their bow, been inked onto sailors arms, and cultivated the aquatic imagination of little girls everywhere. I was one of those girls.

This box is a tribute to those beautiful Mermaids......wherever you are, whatever size you are!

This TattooDreams Box is available at the Orchard Gallery in Fort Wayne, IN. as a part of their Art Becomes Her Exhibit.

Collectors

Yesterday, at a small show, I encountered two uniquely different people who buy art.
One, someone I've known for some 20+ years. 
Another, I have known for only a few years.
Both collect art.
This is where the similarity ends.

He boasts-
Credentials of the other work he owns.  
What prestigious shows these artists have been in.
The artists whose homes he's been in.
Not what fun he had, but
how good was their collection.
He does this with such memory and bravado,
scratching his head to recall. 
He doesn't listen. 
He doesn't smile.
He doesn't really even seem happy.He only wants to be heard. 
Tedious one way conversation. 
As if these veils make large his small stature.
All the while I feel certain I'm being judged on the back stories he knows that I don't.
I don't seem to care but listen nonetheless.
I wonder how many others do this as well.
My mind wanders as he drones on.
I want to sit down.
I want to scream or be interrupted.Yes, it's clearly his choice to buy and collect in this manner.
A misplaced set of social skills are part of his collection.

Then later, I had the pleasure of speaking with another collector of art.  
She embraces. 
Not a quick hug, but one that places one heart opposite another heart.
No name dropping or boasting of how she has acquired the 'best work' of an artist.
She quietly goes about getting to really know an artist and hear their voice.
Find their soul in the work.
This is someone I can understand.Her eyes a reflection of a life passion -
one that bears witness to her love of the people 
who build
and create what she enjoys collecting.
A woman who tells you that she 
touches your work 
in her home 
and thinks of you
-getting well
-becoming strong
-praying for your life
-to flourish
-to continue 
to create.

I would have had to have been dead to not notice -
the vast difference.
In their eyes,
their body language,
their words,
their listening,
their not listening,
their spirit,
their inner joy,
their demeanor.

As an artist who is trying to carve out a living making art, 
I always hope the person who opens their wallet for my work 
will be someone I want to have 'own' my work. 
This has always been my hope.
It always will be, no matter how much I need a sale.

One walks away. 
Hands clinched.
Hat in hand, his critical self 
tightly encased 
in statistics,
in credentials -
in finding more'stuff'.

The other,
hugs,
shares,
cares
listens
and leaves you feeling
that despite anything that
is happening to you-
that you are strong enough 
good enough
and reminds you just how much
your work means to her and how much she enjoys owning your work.

How people make you feel
-is unforgettable.
Like I said, people have different reasons for buying art.

Patricia Hecker