Tales From The Right Side
by Mary Alice Weiss
by Mary Alice Weiss
Now, IÕm not speaking of the loneliness one experiences in not having family and friends around. There are more than enough people in my life. One needs an ART BUDDY; someone to paint with, vent with, observe and critique with , cackle with and sob with--but the friendship revolves around visual art. Open a studio, and wait for the mountain to come to Mohammed.
IÕm not talking of gallery friends; they just put on airs, sip wine and munch on squares of cheese. Artists are not fond of clubs and guilds, because we would dislike having to get others organized when, God knows, we struggle to keep ourselves straight.
If you are fortunate, a noble soul who lives and breathes art will happen on your place, insert herself into your life, become your art buddy and you will not be lonely anymore.
What does an art buddy do? She paints for the love of painting. She does not paint to sell, like you have to. She doesnÕt paint on commission, like you have to. She is your role model. She has a well developed style and several themes, which she alternates as the spirit moves her. She is academically inclined and had painted each and every day for fifty years. She is no Sunday painter. Art is a part of her daily life. Painting every day is like breathing or eating every day.
An art buddy is always a true artist. She does not care if she sells her paintings. (Well, it Would be nice to be recognized occasionally). You put her in the window as your flagship. Souls happen by, not pausing to see the magnificence of the creative process.
Van Gogh sold one painting in his lifetime, Georgia OÓKeeffe bought back her work. You tell your art buddy that the paintings in her attic will also be discovered someday. But she cares only about the challenge of each painting, which causes her to think; and the thinking, she says, is the hardest and most rewarding part.
Your art buddy supports you through thick and thin, and is loyal to the cause. Unlike the others who use you and your space, she buys all her supplies from you, not from catalogs and chain stores. When she finishes a piece, she pays you to put a lovely custom frame around it--maybe including a liner. The choosing of a frame is also an artistic event, with all of us sitting in committee to help select. But the final decision, made with care and taste, is hers. Never mind that she then takes each masterpiece and deposits it in the attic in one of the many racks her son-in -law builds for Christmas and MotherÕs Day.
Ours is a hectic world, filled with human stories tragic and trite, heroic and hedonistic, creative and common. Do you suppose IÕm making up this person, as a lonely child would create an imaginary friend? IÕm not. Her name is Mary C. Bierly. Come see her in my window.
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