Night at the Gallery

You’re going to think I’m a weirdo, but Thursday night was the first time I’ve gone to a social gathering in six years.

I hasten to adjust that statement. I went to my daughter’s wedding last September.

But other than that, six years.

When the pandemic arrived, I took it seriously. I live with my elderly mother, who was on an immunosuppressant at the time, and I knew if I caught a virus, Mom was going to catch it too. So, I mostly stopped going places.

And then, somehow, not going places became how I do life.

Which brings me to last night.

My sister is a quilter, and every year, for the past seven years, we’ve been involved in a local studio tour. She is one of the artists, and I am the administrator. I send the emails, update the website, organize the social media, answer questions, and generally know everybody’s name and what kind of art they make. I’ve been emailing back and forth with some of them for years.

And we’ve never met.

Last night was a gathering for the artists at our local gallery. The artists on the tour rarely get to meet each other because when you’re participating in the studio tour, you don’t get to go on the studio tour. You’re hosting your own location while everybody else is hosting theirs.

So, I stepped out into a beautiful summer evening and went to the gallery.

The Art Gallery of Georgina is an exquisite gem of a place. The artwork is accessible and vibrant. You don’t find yourself standing in front of something thinking, This is art?

The gallery is full of beautiful, colourful, interesting things that make you want to stop and drink them in.

The building itself used to be the public library when I was a kid, which adds another layer of strange familiarity for me. On Thursday night I walked into a brick building I knew in a long-ago life, and found myself entering a social world I’d thought I’d forgotten.

And then I mingled.

People kept telling me I was like the Wizard of Oz behind the curtain.

Apparently, I am the glue of the studio tour.

I kept saying, “I may be the wizard behind the curtain, but I’m not an evil wizard. I’m a good wizard.”

It was fun.

It was fun talking to people about their art and their process and the challenges they’re facing. It was fun finally attaching voices and personalities to names that have lived in my inbox for years. Mostly, it was fun just delighting in all the beautiful, colourful, amazing things they’re creating.

Almost none of them know I’m a writer.

That was kind of nice too.

I spend so much of my life thinking about writing and readers and books. Last night I was just the studio tour admin, wandering around a gallery asking other people about what they make.

For a couple of hours, I got to step out of my own little world and into theirs.

And I came home thinking, well, look at that.

Apparently, I can still go to a social gathering.

I can mingle. I can make small talk. I can stand around with a glass in my hand and talk to people I barely know without bursting into flames.

Who knew?

After six years of mostly keeping to myself, it turns out I haven’t forgotten how to be out in the world.

I may even do it again.

I’d love to know. Drop me a line!

For more about me and my books, please visit my website, sandyday.ca