A couple days ago I met an artist who I may share gallery representation with. We met for the first time for coffee. I have admired his work for some time and he lives nearby in Savannah and has traveled widely and lived all over the country. I really knew very little about him except for his work. We both have complex histories and were both previously involved in the communications world.

This meeting was totally spontaneous, interesting, and easygoing…something I have missed for a while in the time of COVID. However it caused me to think as I was driving home about my own identity, especially in a time when we are all grappling with so many social issues.

How would I like to be indentified? The first and foremost word that comes to mind is as an Artist. That is the pinnacle for me. I have worked and strived for that word since I could walk. However other possible positive/negative descriptors include:

  • male
  • caucasian
  • older
  • baby-boomer
  • husband
  • father
  • grandfather
  • teacher
  • director
  • blue-collar
  • educated
  • hands-on
  • fair
  • moderately traveled

In my mind all these descriptions coalesce to form the word Artist for me. Sure there is training, reading, classes, experiences, and skillsets involved. I look to many artists from different genders and race for inspiration. Some of those pathways are difficult to imagine and even relate to, but the results are continually stunning. I am in awe of these individuals and want to see through their eyes, if only for a moment. This becomes powerful content that gives me something to work towards. Artist is still the word I covet and becomes the visual dialogue of injustice, health, inequities, daily struggles, fairness and perception.

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