I’ve never had two exhibits opening at the same time, so the last few months and weeks and days have been completely tunneled-visioned. So when the last boxes of artwork were sealed up and sent, following the challenge of fitting eight double-weight cardboard cartons into a Mini-Cooper, (duh, the answer is, you can’t), after all the hours of complete self-absorption, there was a chance to go outside. To drive somewhere, to go someplace that coaxed me out of myself, into a world that actually looked more like make-believe than the world I had been making up.
Fairchild Tropical Botanic Garden is far enough away from here to be a place we don’t go to very often, (an hour going, maybe, but counting in accidents on I-95, usually three and a half hours coming back). So when we do go, it has that mix of familiarity and surprise, like someplace you visited when you were very young and embroidered stories around. But when you go again, the stories are real, like a mix of Jurassic Park and Atget, Grimm’s fairy tales and Alice.