So, it’s happened to me. My postings on my blog have become erratic and infrequent. Somehow the fast train that is the momentum of time between now and Christmas had hijacked a more meditative self.

That same self was jerked to life this past Saturday. Seventeen years has taught me that there is much wisdom behind the statement: “The customer is always right.” I have engaged in many conversations with such an attitude and learned much about a specific customer’s view-point that
was couched in sound, logical thought, that was not my own. A respectful divergence of opinion was established.

That said, when I was confronted by a customer ridiculing a piece in the gallery, I accepted his remarks and replied that he wouldn’t care to have a casual conversation with me about the piece. He persisted, laughing that the piece looked like a “drop-cloth”. I suggested that he might like to go on to my neighbor’s shop and make fun of her inventory. Undaunted, he went through the gallery looking at our holiday exhibit, and returned to apologize for his remarks. I smiled and responded, “It’s easy to make fun of things you don’t understand”.

The woman with whom I work was appalled by my comment. I thought only that I was never rude, though I was truthful. If you’re still reading this, I’ll add that, the more art you look at, the broader your tastes will become. Academic education doesn’t have to have anything to do with this process- sensitivity is everything. Responding to color, line, form, composition, distortion, texture and content will reward you whether you’re looking at the world about you or an art object. Try it!

To that end, I’m initiating a daily series that will last up ‘til December 23rd. I’ll pick out one piece of art each day and hopefully provide some comments that won’t be hopelessly obvious, but which may focus right in on why a piece “works”. You may or may not agree with me, but if you read and look, I’ll provide you with a leg up in gaining a greater insight into the art we exhibit.

#1, for the first of December

Steve Maxon’s “Baby Hammerhead” takes parts of two familiar objects that would not normally be paired. When they are, the result is a laughably absurd hybrid. Steve’s humor resides in edgy terrain. He and his wife, Doris Parks, cast their own work, and that of sculptors throughout the country at their studio in Kalona, Iowa.