River's Art Show: success!
Dear River,
In case by the time you’re 34, or even 20. Or even if it’s
as soon as next week. I want you to be able to remember today. It was the first
annual River’s Art Show. And it was awesome.
You have been impressing people for years, YEARS, with your
artistic talent. Even at age 3 you had an understanding of depth and
perspective in regards to how you composed characters with your pencil, or
marker, or even DoodlePro. And it’s not just that you can draw, but that every
drawing has a story to go with it that’s as detailed as a full night’s dream.
So to celebrate how far you’ve come at age 7, and to inspire you to keep doing
it, we set you up with your own art show, scheduled to coincide with Sunday Parkways, since it would be making its way down our street and in front of our house.
You were hesitant this morning, not wanting to get dressed
or come outside to set up. Instead, you wanted to sit in the basement and draw.
So Tim and I set up the awning in the driveway. Tim wrapped it around 3 sides
with plastic sheeting, in case the 30% chance of rain became 100% true. Then he
strung up yarn and clipped clothespins to it, and together we hung your
sketches, your posters, your prints, and your double-sided Blasensarewen. We
set up a 6 foot table and displayed your jet pack and knee-boarding monster
sculpture, your painted glass and your corkboard. And we left your sketchbooks
open for people to peruse.

River’s Art Show. and Lemonade. FREE!
And a stepladder was placed at the foot of the driveway that
reiterated the invitation
River’s Art Show. and Lemonade. FREE!
Then the bicycles began to come down the street. And people
would point and smile and say “Look! River’s Art Show. That’s cute.” They said
that a lot. You stayed behind the 6 ft table, your sheets of paper in your lap,
whipping out drawing after drawing. Then a group of kids slowed down by the
driveway, lingered for a second, and then came on up, some still straddling
their bikes under the awning, others having left them lying on their sides in
the grass. They checked out your artwork, nodding and smiling, and partook of
the cookies and lemonade. Then they rode off, pretty stoked. And you were
stoked, too.
At that point it was kind of like the seal was broken. Folks
would ride by and shoot straight up the driveway saying “Hey, we heard this was
River’s Art Show.”
And they’d check out your poster of Huge-O, or your one-page
story that read:
Once upon a time a unicorn farted. The end.
They’d ask questions. You’d answer them. You’d give a little
tour, in a semi-clown way, trying to be a bit silly. You even got a couple of tips. Cash money, in
your hand. For doing art, my boy.
You wanted to make a “for sale” sign, but I dissuaded you.
Not yet. This art show was to be for the sake of art itself. Then you wanted to
make, and did make, a sign that said “Do Not Tuch.” With a circle and a slash
through the “Tuch”. And again I dissuaded you. This was to be an art show where
if someone needed to touch your framed geometric robot, they should feel okay to do
so.
You made friends. They hung out and started doing their own
art. They made signs that said “AC/DC Shook Me All Night Long”. And posters for your show.

Paige made an advertisement that said “River’s Art Show” and taped it to her bike, so people would read it as she rode around.
Paige made an advertisement that said “River’s Art Show” and taped it to her bike, so people would read it as she rode around.
You caught a butterfly. Though it might be a moth. Likely it's a buttermoth. It didn't die.
Maggie vacuumed the sidewalk.

We met new neighbors, who will very likely become new
friends.
We met old friends. Lots of people who have known you since
you were a baby rode up to check out your art show, to give you hugs, to tell
you how proud they are of you.
We set out the beginning of a new tradition, which you have
already said will be a bit different next year. We’ll invite others to display
their art. And we’ll set up an official area where art can be made, live. We’ll
have more cookies. We’ll prepare for rain, but be thankful
when it stays sunny all day long. And then we’ll take it all down, file your
art away safely, and start preparing for another year of collection and
inspiration.
I love you,
mama
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