Allow me to stray from my usual topic of backyard observations to tell a story about a watercolor painting by my dear artist friend Sheila, who left this earth too soon, in November 2019. One of my beloved inheritances from Sheila was a box of pastels and watercolors from her studio that her children were not able to take because of the sheer volume of her work. We sold some of them at an art show, I framed and hung some of them, but there are still way too many left to hang in any one person's home.
When a Little Free Art Gallery went up not far from my house, Sheila's family and I agreed to begin posting the paintings there, one at a time, in hopes of spreading Sheila's art into the world for others to enjoy. The gallery, similar to Little Free Libraries, is a dollhouse-sized room mounted on a pole by a neighborhood sidewalk, made especially for sharing art.
So, for the past year, about once a week, I've been placing Sheila's works in the little gallery. They are all unframed and most measure about 12 x14 inches. Every piece I've placed has disappeared within a week or so, leaving room for more. I've been curious to know who takes them but I've never been witness to any of the departures, until one day this week, when I was heartened by what I observed.
I parked my car and deposited in the gallery a beautiful 12x14 watercolor that Sheila had titled "Backyard Camellias." I wish I had photographed it, because to describe it as a few red camellias with yellow stamen in the centers on a background of green leaves does not do justice to its brilliance.
After making my deposit, I latched the door of the gallery and walked to the post office across the street to mail a card. When I came out of the post office, I noticed a woman who looked uncombed, unwashed, and perhaps unhoused, sorting through all the works in the little gallery. I wanted to run across to ask which ones she liked and encourage her to take the camellias, but somehow that seemed too invasive, so I waited and watched from across the street.
I can't say why I was so moved by watching her, but something about that impoverished-looking woman carefully discerning which art she wanted touched me deeply. Once she made her selection, she glanced furtively up and down the street, perhaps unsure if it was okay to help herself to the art. As she tucked her selection inside her blouse, it flashed toward me long enough to see from across the street that she had indeed chosen Sheila's camellias and was protecting them from harm as she moved on down the sidewalk.
I don't know if that dear woman had a place to display her newly acquired art, but it gave me joy to think about Sheila's handiwork bringing a measure of beauty to one who may have otherwise had little beauty in her life.
~dkm 7-21-24
