Category: Experiences: Music & Art

From Fire and Ash a Phoenix Rises: Firebird Festival in Phoenixville

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For the past twenty years a mysterious sight has unfolded in the midst of the winter’s cold. A community builds a giant wooden bird and then sets it on fire much to the delight of the spectators. And, dear reader, it is as awesome as it sounds. 

The Firebird Festival, was a dream of a Henrik Stubbe Teglbjaerg, an immigrant from Denmark who has resided in the States since the late 1980’s. He, with four other Phoenixville residents, came up with the idea, in part inspired by similar festivals of Europe where they build things and set it on fire. When he first arrived Phoenixville was a dreary little town. However, it started to revive itself, opening up a theater, art galleries, coffee house and it was as if there was a rebirth, a town rising up out of the ashes. So what could be a more perfect fit than to celebrate with the symbol of rebirth and the town’s own namesake? 

What is more is that each year, the ashes from the burned phoenix are taken and made into clay birds which are then placed inside the wooden bird. When set on fire, the wooden structure acts as a kiln, firing the birds and thus completing the cycle of last year’s bird when they are transformed into decorative pottery. 

What started as a small 150 person event has grown into a 20,000 person festival. Complete with food trucks, fire dancers, a parade, live music, and various wares for sale. It is a celebration of the town and the arts. But rather than relying on fancy performance artists most of the event is volunteer and community run which only speaks to the strength and spirit of the community, despite the growing size of the festival they have protected its heart as a grassroots events that remains untainted by the scale of the crowd. 

Most years, this event takes place in December just as the northern hemisphere enters its darkest stage and the year is coming to a close. However due to an unusually dry spell, the 2024 Firebird Festival was delayed as having a 20 foot wooden set aflame near exceedingly dry forest isn’t exactly the safest idea. Remember dear reader, as much as we all desire to check off our lists we want to make sure we live to check off the rest of our lists when doing so. 

This misfortune of weather was my opportunity. For you see, my sister and I typically celebrate the holiday season each year with our extended family on the second weekend of December. It so happens that the Firebird Festival also happens on that same weekend meaning that we are always previously engaged as the annual Holiday Feast has been a set date since before I was born. So when the organizers moved the Firebird Festival to the first weekend in February it became the must do event of the winter season. 

The new date was also fortuitous as it coincided with an ancient celebration of spring’s light returning. The ancient Celtic holiday of Imbolc was associated with the Celtic Goddess Brigid, the guardian of Hearth and Flame, a perfect pairing for the new date. The ancient holiday was a time of purification, renewal and preparation for the change in season. Fire rituals which honored the returning sun were frequently integrated into the Imbolc celebrations. It was celebrations like these which inspired the Firebird Festival in the first place making the new date perfect. 

As it happened, it was one of the coldest nights of the winter as arctic wind was carried down from the north freezing all that it touched with its icy fingers. Only a few days before the weather had been warm thawing out the ground and making it moist and muddy. Posts about the event warned celebrants of the potential for treacherous conditions on the field as the mud became slick and icy. 

My sister and I did our best to buddle up in preparation for the cold. I fared a bit better than her having a coat that mimicked a fur one, leather gloves lined with kashmir, thick socks and shoes with thick soles to keep out the cold. She had a rather old coat that she put several layers on beneath but the wind still managed to cut through the fabric and whisk away what warmth she had. As the Germans say “there is no bad weather, only bad clothing” and this was a prime example. I stayed pretty toasty throughout the evening but my poor sister struggled. Worry not, I often acted as a wind break once the crowd gathered. 

The festival occurs in two different places, the field where the bird is and downtown Phoenixville where most of the art events occur. After looking at the events and options, we determined that we wouldn’t arrive at 4 pm when the event started but rather closer to 5:30 pm to find parking, walk down to the field. That gave us about 21/2 – 2 hours before the bird was scheduled to be lit at 8 and the fire dancers would start their own performances around 6 (something else I’ve been wanting to see as part of my BucketList, maybe I’ll have to add Fire Dancing to the list now that I know I can volunteer to be one!) 

We followed the instructions for parking and managed to snag a great spot that was near enough to the field to make an easy walk in and out. It was a place that opened for parking after the official event time, I assume in part to help manage crowds. This made it a breeze to get to the Veterans Memorial Park where we were greeted by friendly volunteers who directed us into the event. They had buckets to collect donations which went to supporting it. When we got there we were a little surprised as the lackluster crowd as it seemed only a hundred people were milling about. There were a few food trucks and some tents set up. The band wasn’t playing yet and the sun was only just starting to set. We milled around looking at the different options and then decided to watch the Fire Dancers. We saw some people had chairs set up right at the center of the staging area but other than directly in front, the area was clear. We picked a spot to the left to watch and decided we’d take turns running to the food trucks. 

It felt a little paranoid to hold our spots when there were so few people, but as it turned out this was a crucial strategy because it seemed that within 15 minutes the crowd had tripled in size and the entire perimeter of the bird was lined with spectators enthralled by the fire dancers. Just as twilight fell, the arrived each with a unique costume and different types of instruments to move the flames about. They juggled, they moved around balls of fire, they twirled long lances and staves, they mimicked a bird with wing-like props, they used hoops of fire to make large circles. One wore a plaque mask, another looked like she came from the assassin’s creed, there were knights with shields and spears, there was a woman in a leopard catsuit. Some of the volunteers were better than others but all of them were mesmerizing in their own way as in the background a band played music. 

By the time the sky had gone dark, the crowd had ballooned behind us and we had to jostle our way to back to each other when we went for warm drinks or snacks. We nibbled on delicious food from a truck and sipped on warm apple cider available for purchase from some enthusiastic teens manning a volunteer tent. It seemed a little pricey for warm cider but the proceeds went to support the event and as it didn’t have an entry fee I was happy to pay a little more. The cider warmed my hands which had gotten cold from taking pictures of the fire dancers. 

As the appointed hour grew near, the crowd and the cold intensified. However, it was all great fun as we stood there making friends with the people behind us, chatting and laughing. We helped them hold a spot for their friend when she slipped out. Then around 7:45 the parade arrived. Headed by a giant pheonix of paper mache and cloth, the parade was host to more costumed revelers adorned with lights who danced to the beat of drums. Around the bird they circled to the cheers of the onlookers as the crowd only grew more excited in anticipation of the main event. 

Unfortunately, there seemed to be a bit of a delay as 8 pm came and went. Then 8:05, then 8:10, then 8:15, by the time 8:20 rolled around there were chants of “light the bird” which would be taken up and then die down after a minute or so. This went on for another 10 or 15 minutes until finally the torch bearers chosen by lottery were assembled and permitted to put torch to wood. At first, the flames barely licked up the wooden structure. It seemed as if the wind would snuff out the small fires struggling to find purchase against such icy conditions. How could such small flames survive? Would we be disappointed? 

No, the flames did not die. They continued their merry dance along the wooden structure, flickering brightly in the night. While it was a nice sight to see, it was hardly worth the nearly 3 hours in the freezing cold, perhaps we should pack it in, my sister suggested. I told her that I wanted to spend a little bit longer because we had been there so long and I wanted to enjoy it regardless. Then suddenly, conflagration! The whole thing was alight, the phoenix was finally truly lit. The heat pushed back the cold becoming almost more than we could bear even so far way. I pushed my hands out towards it drinking in the sudden heat. It was a glorious sight to behold as it was truly worthy of its name.It really did look like a mythical creature crackling in the cold night with the promise of the summer’s sun. We stood there enthralled by it, saying goodbye to the old and welcoming the new. 

How can you experience a Firebird Festival?

Obviously if you don’t live near Phoenixville attending this event won’t be cheap or easy and while it is certainly something I recommend if you’re in the area, it isn’t something I would plan an entire vacation around. However, there are lots of different local traditions and festivals throughout the country with their own unique and special. Florida is home to an Underwater Music Festival,  New Mexico has one dedicated to UFOs, Ohio is obsessed with Duck Tape and Washington State hosts a Kite Festival and there are many more. With some searching, you’re almost certain to find a quirky festival near you. Many of these festivals take place in the Spring and Summer months so now is the perfect time to look around your wider area for fun and interesting events.

What’s awesome is that the story of the Firebird Festival demonstrates that it only takes a few people gathering together to make something amazing. It started off as 4 friends getting together, building a small phoenix and setting it alight for 150 people. It has ballooned into an event that attracts thousands each winter. Your own event doesn’t have to be this “big thing” and there’s nothing to stop you from starting your own tradition! Don’t worry about a 20 year commitment though, as once it takes off there will be people to pass the torch to (pun very much intended). 

Small disclaimer:

Technically, there are things that can stop you from starting your own tradition. Local ordinances may prohibit you from doing certain activities like setting things on fire and I really don’t recommend that you do that if you live out in places that a prone to wildfires. I don’t want this blog to be in the news because after reading this, you decided to start your own firebird festival and set the state of California on fire. So as always check your local ordinances and use common sense before trying something you read online.

Cost: Free

Miles from home: 50

Step Up: Irish Step Dancing

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When I was a little girl, I loved watching people dance. I was absolutely obsessed, spending hours watching the Nutcracker Ballet and Riverdance on VHS. I wanted so badly to take dance lessons, but sadly, growing up in a lower middle class household we lacked the funds for dance. This meant I would have to content myself with mimicking what I saw on the screen in my living room with little success both from lack of coaching and space. Jumping around in my room, causing a ruckus wouldn’t have been appreciated. 

As I entered my teen years, it was something that I began to mentally put away. Dance was something that kids and teens did and after highschool, if you didn’t “make it” by having the skill and talent to progress beyond, it was “too late”. I enjoyed color guard for three of my six years in marching band, but that was as close as I came to it. I still sighed somewhat wistfully whenever I got a chance to watch professional dancers especially ballet or Irish Step dance, but I accepted they were things that I wouldn’t be doing. 

However, that was not to be the final chapter on my foray into dance. Because, in the fall of my freshman year at college, I discovered there was in fact a dance ministry on campus. The ministry was student run by young women who had been doing dance since they were young and were willing to pass on their knowledge and skills to anyone who wanted to join up. They did group us by skill level so the more advanced dancers could still be challenged and grow, but they were incredibly welcoming to those of us who had never danced before. 

We were given the option to try out different dances and then commit for the semester (or full year). I ended up picking Irish Step Dancing and flags. We paid a small membership due of about $10 each semester. So for $20 bucks, I was able to have a year’s worth of dance classes. Not only that, but also they had a huge collection of costumes meaning that I had very little to buy for the concerts. They directed us to a discount retailer for things like our shoes and I was able to snag my Irish Step Dancing shoes for $10. I believe the total cost for the year was about $50 between the dues, the shoes and one or two items for the costumes.

I will say my first day of class, I felt a bit like a five year old again. I was so excited to finally learn at least something of a dance I’ve loved so much for so long. My teacher was absolutely amazing and the sweetest person. She was a junior year nursing student who brought her calm, compassionate bedside manner into the classroom. She never scolded or lectured us when we messed up, but instead offered gentle correction and critique. We never sought perfection, only to do better each time. 

There are references to Irish step dancing as far back as the 16th century. In a letter to Queen Elizabeth, Sir Henry Sydney references his love for Irish jigs. At first, the music was primarily bagpipes with the hornpipe entering in the 1760’s giving the music its distinctive rhythms. There is some arguments as to when the fiddle was introduced with some people placing it in the 1700’s, but there are references in writing to fiddles in the mid to late 1600’s. 

The modern day form is recognizable for its rigid torso and dancing primarily on the balls of ones feet – like in Riverdance. However, that wasn’t always the case and it is as the name suggests a more modern form of the dance. There are also two distinctive types known as hard shoe and soft shoe. Hard shoe is basically like the tap dance of Irish Step. The hard shoe clacks on the floor making a noise and so the dancer becomes a moving percussion instrument. I danced soft shoe as hard shoe was for the more advanced students. I, sadly, did not get to dance hard shoe. Long story short, I needed to have two years of experience to be able to go into the more advanced class, I went abroad my junior year to study German and in my senior year, there was no one to teach Irish Step as the dances offered depended on having dancers with enough experience to teach it. 

What I found interesting about learning Irish step was that I expected the steps to have fancy Irish sounding names like how ballet has french words for their many movements. We did not have those at all, we had a seemingly limited vocabulary mostly consisting of lifts, beats, cuts, steps, and overs. She would tell us “now we’re going to do the step, step, back” or “Lift, step, step” to help us figure out what set of movements we were about to do. We’d put them together to the beat do them with one foot, then reverse it and do it on the other foot. The pieces of the whole movement would last a few bars of the music. We’d take turns circling our partners and join up as a larger circle going in and out. I cannot say that we were ready to take on the world stage by any stretch of the imagination. Our lifts were certainly not as high as they could be, legs lower, foot movements were decidedly sloppy at times, but we had fun learning. 

Each week I looked forward to going to it even if I was left exhausted by the end of class. Although, it did make going to flags right afterward difficult. My legs would feel like jelly by the time we were finished and instead of being able to go back to my nearby dorm room, I had to trek across campus, often in the cold darkness to the racquetball courts where we held flag practice. By the time I finished flags both my legs and my arms were exhausted. In between class, I practiced my steps in my dorm room and tried to increase my flexibility. I like to think it paid off in our performances.

Every year, we put on two concerts. One was the Christmas concert in the small chapel on campus. That one was free for anyone to attend. The other was the larger one in the gymnasium which was put on each spring, to the delight of the entire school. The second one had a small fee to attend to help us raise money to continue to buy costumes. The college let us have access to the sound system and set up a stage for us. During the concerts, each class picked a bible verse to share which went along with the song that we picked. 

My favorite song and verse combination came from my freshman year. Our song was the Salt Lick by Gaelic Storm and our verse was Mathew 5:30 “You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled underfoot.” It was a verse to remind us to be as salt, preserving, enhancing and flavoring the world with God’s love and light. 

I was incredibly blessed to have the opportunity to dance in college and to live out a childhood dream of learning a skill I thought was closed off to me. I think many of us wish we had certain opportunities to learn things when we were younger, but we think that there won’t be people to teach us. Perhaps, like me, you may think that unless you’re super talented there isn’t aren’t opportunities for you as an adult to learn. It may seem that the time to try and get into an interest has passed, but there are actually opportunities all around you if you keep your eyes and ears open. I can say that there are places which offer adult dance lessons even if they are harder to find. I also see that there are places for adult beginners to learn martial arts, sports, music, art and more. 

One of the people I do a podcast with, started his martial arts journey in his late 40’s. While he may not be as flexible or learn as quickly as some of the younger guys, he is doing it and loving it. He wasn’t afraid to be embarrassed by his lack of skill and embraced learning something new. Nor is the goal or focus to be a world champion or professional, it’s something that can be done just for fun. 

So often the activities we do in childhood semi-translate to work at this thing really hard so you can get a scholarship or go be a professional. The messages we receive as children is that these activities are not for themselves, they’re for doing something with them. They have to be tied to these larger goals. There’s also this obsession with accomplishing things as a young person and this false narrative that if you don’t master it by the time you’re 20, you’re never going to, so don’t even bother. So as adult learners we have to say to the first, actually, I can do this just for fun. To the second, we can say my life has not already been completely written and I can still accomplish a lot, so if I want to master this thing, I still can. It really depends on your own individual goals for whatever it is you want to do. 

So how can you step up as it were?

As I said earlier, it’s a matter of keeping your eyes and ears open. In my area, there are several places which offer adult classes for dance. One place is another dance ministry which helps keep the cost down. It is even offering a martial arts class which I am hopeful to join next year! Occasionally, you can find places offering introductory workshops for dance which gives you a taste of what a class would be like. It’s really a matter of actively seeking out those opportunities. 

Now, I have seen some online dance apps and courses. I’m not sure how effective they are because you may not have the feedback that you’d get from a live person to help correct your form and to explain a move more fully if you don’t understand the first explanation. Also you won’t be in an actual dance studio. I personally found the mirrors in the dance studio to be really helpful because I could visually see exactly what my body looked like. So I knew that my leg wasn’t perfectly straight or the lift was sloppy. I could see if my arms weren’t held up evenly with one side dropping down. I think they’d be really good for absolute beginners and for people who just want to try it for fun. There is of course no substitution for personalized instruction that live classes bring, but I do think the apps provide access to tools and information that are difficult to otherwise obtain.

Completed: Fall 2006 through Fall 2008

Cost: $100 for 3 semesters

Miles from home: 0 from college dorm / 39 from home

An Evening with Joshua Bell

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Perhaps for many people spending an evening listening to a violin virtuoso may not top the list of things to do. However, for those in the classical music world, he is our Taylor Swift or Beyonce or insert your favorite singer/band here. He is a household name, even those who do care for the music he plays, they are still familiar with him. Joshua has been wowing audiences around the world since he was 17 years old. 

As his debut on the world stage coincided with the earliest parts of my childhood, I grew up listening to him on cassette tape and CD. I would be able to pick out his playing the moment I walked into the room being able to determine his playing from other violinists. I started playing the violin in 3rd grade and only became further in love with his command of the instrument as my knowledge grew. Needless to say, that hearing him play on a famous stradivarius violin, has been a long time dream. 

Considering that Joshua is a world-renowned musician having played to sold out concerts in the best concert halls throughout his 40 years of playing, with ticket prices only skyrocketing in recent years, it never even crossed my mind to hope that I could see him in person. Imagine my shock and surprise to see that he would grace the small stage of the Millerville’s Ware Center in Lancaster. Now the tickets were a bit more expensive that are typical of Millersville’s performances, but they were still reasonably priced for a performance of this caliber. In considering the cost of travel to venues further afield, I determined that this was simply the cost of seeing the Paganini of our time. 

I invited my mother and my sister to attend with me. My sister declined as she is not as enamored with the violin as I am, but my mother was more than happy to join me as she shared my love of Joshua Bell. We planned to go out to dinner a little early so that we would have plenty of time to find parking and get to the venue. We both dressed to impress as suitable for the occasion. We enjoyed a glass of wine with our swordfish which was complemented by the butternut squash risotto. Parking was secured in a garage which was just around the corner from the Ware Center. 

I was a little surprised to see that there was an entire reception in the front of the Ware Center with complimentary wine and a small buffet of food. A grand piano was playing softly and everyone was mingling with an air of barely contained excitement. I took the opportunity to mingle with the crowd, stopping to chat with people using small opportunities to open up conversation. A few people stopped me to compliment both my own outfit and my mother’s. After a short wait which felt like an eternity with anticipation, the doors were finally opened and we were able to make our way in. 

I hadn’t paid much attention to the seat numbers as we hadn’t been able to select our seats at the time of purchasing. The tickets had simply arrived in my email and I printed them out ahead of time not wanting to take any chances of last minute technical difficulties. Which meant that once again, I was surprised by my sheer luck. As I slowly descended further down the steps closer and closer to the stage it slowly dawned on me that I was to be in the second row from the stage on the far right (stage left) where Joshua would enter and exit. I was dangerously close to the legend himself. 

From the first note, I knew I was hearing something particularly special;it was clear no recording had ever quite done either the player or the instrument justice. The sound washed over me commanding my attention and I swear I could see the sound as colors dancing across my mind. The notes were like electricity through me filling every limb with it. Words do not quite capture the physical and emotional transcendent experience that happened as I was held hostage by the majesty of the music.  

As I watched and listened, I wanted to take everything in at once, every note, every movement of his bow arm and fingers over the strings. I could see every expression in his face and the way he moved with the music as he played. I could hear him take a breath at the beginning of the musical phrases, breathing in sync with the music. When I had recovered from my initial shock, I did manage to start to study what he was doing to produce such phenomenal sounds. Truly, the violin on which he is playing is a singular instrument, but let us not fool ourselves into thinking that should I ever be handed a Stradivarius such as the Gibson ex Huberman (provided I didn’t faint first), I would not be able to produce the same caliber of music. Whereas many people might focus on how expertly his fingers moved up and down the fingerboard keeping them perfectly disciplined, I was enthralled by the control he exhibited over the bow and how he could subtly move his wrist to change the entire tone. I found myself enraptured in an entirely new way as there is nothing quite like watching a master at work. 

After what seemed an age and all too quickly, time which had been suspended resumed and the concert came to its seeming end. However, there was a small surprise at the end of the published repertoire, he had two more songs for us, Nocturne Chopin No. 9 and The Gypsy Airs. The first Josh dedicated to a dear friend who had only died that morning, though his voice almost broke as Josh begged the audience’s indulgence to dedicate the piece to him, the voice of his instrument remained clear. Only a heart of stone would have remained unmoved by the communication of grief in the notes. The second song, was a balm to soothe the hearts of those listening, with its oft times cheeky and bright tones. 

I never wanted it to end, but once again, we came to a halt, with his bow held in the air the audience held its breath and then with all the confidence of a conductor at the start of a symphony his hand dropped and a chorus of clapping began. We rose to our collective feet giving a standing ovation of a performance truly worthy of it. He graciously accepted our accolades and made a quick exit stage left. The magic of the evening would not soon wear off as the music continues to echo in my mind and I will long to hear it again, knowing that I will have to make due with mere recordings. I understand now why women would faint to hear Paganini play. 

How can you hear a world renowned musician?

As I often remind you dear reader, one will be shocked and surprised at the offerings from your local colleges and universities. Not all world class performances take place in the vaunted halls of opera houses and symphony halls, some take place on much smaller, more intimate stages. I always check in early August for the listings of performances that I can expect over the next 8 to 9 months. I also check my local theaters and community stages. Often these places have shows that are much more affordable to see than in the larger and more famous venues. Yes, seeing a world renown artist performing on a world famous stage can be exciting, it’s also very expensive and many of the newer smaller stages have great acoustics with modern building techniques. By not overlooking my smaller, local venus, I managed to check seeing Joshua Bell playing his famous Stradivarius off my list.  

Completed: Oct. 2024

Cost: $250 

Miles from home: 20 

A Wickedly Good Time: A Broadway Musical in New York

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Considering the movie version is at its height of being popular, It seems that now is the perfect time to write about my very first Broadway Musical experience, Wicked (from my Reverse Bucket List).

I must confess my confusion that after 20 plus years of being on the stage, the musical is still so beloved that it should have such a large fanbase that has flocked to the theaters to see it and sing along. It certainly is a good musical, catchy music, compelling characters, interesting plot, and full of deeper themes that will stand the test of time. However, I just hadn’t heard much about it since it first debuted back in 2003 which followed on the heels of the 1995 book. Seeing all the excitement surrounding the movie version of it has made me reminisce about my Broadway experience.  

I was in my senior year of high school when the music department was able to schedule a trip up to New York city in order to see Wicked the musical. As our high school was about a 3 hour drive from New York, it wasn’t too far for us to do occasional class trips. As it happened, this trip was scheduled for the day after another trip to New York to see the Darwin Exhibit – so I happened to go twice in one week (but a post for another time). I had recently read the book from my library, curiosity finally winning out to discover what precisely had everyone in such a frenzy of excitement. As my school had done the Wizard of Oz musical in my freshman year, i was extremely curious to not only read the story from an alternative point of view but see the story from an alternative point of view. 

Our field trip actually began in the later part of the school day as the performance would not be until the twilight hours. We piled onto the charter bus as a group of exuberant, nerdy teens ready to take on the world. For most of us, this would be the first time seeing a Broadway musical and for some it was their first time going to New York. The air was palpable with excitement which soon wore off after the initial jostling for seats and everyone settled into their places for the long trip up. There was the usual chatter, the occasional flirtatious glance between people, whispered gossip and playful teasing for which groups of teens are known for. 

I was no different sitting with my friends and giggling most of the way uncertain of exactly what I was in for. I had of course heard of the infamous broadway and grew up watching various performances of musicals recorded on video. I didn’t know precisely what made Broadway so special other than that was where musicals were born. Even though I had just seen the famous city, I had not yet visited when the daylight fades and gives way to the bright lights of the streets. Would it really transform itself as I had been lead to believe? 

As the bus rolled along, we began to start seeing signs for New York and signs for Wicked. The excitement on the bus began to build once again. The energy was barely contained within the seats. For myself, I remember half bouncing up and down in glee. Shortly – though not nearly quick enough – we had arrived in the big city. We were given leave to divide ourselves up into groups and we were taken to have pizza. 

I remember walking through the streets taking in all the sites. The daylight had just started to fade, turning the sunlight to rose. There seemed to be too much to take in at once. Buildings towering over us. Music blared over the cacophony of sounds, traffic, horns, and construction. We spotted a street performer. Cars were everywhere, some of them quite unique like the limo humvee which alternatively amused and baffled us as quintessentially New York. Looking up we saw the famous billboards and lights, soon they would light the night and block out the stars and moon. 

We were ushered into an upscale restaurant which was known for its pizza, though to this day I cannot quite recall its name. But I recall the atmosphere quite well. Like most upscale restaurants, the lighting was dim which only accentuated the richness of the dark wooden panels on the lower part of the walls. The upper half seemed to be a lighter cream though the shadows obscured the truth. I distinctly recall that we ate on the upper level looking down over the rest of the patrons. Perhaps, knowing that they would play host to rambunctious adolescents they wisely seated us away from their other customers lest we became a disturbance. If we were, I did not hear of it, though I cannot quite imagine that we were not at least slightly disruptive. However, most of us had been raised with at least decent enough manners, the problem of course is that when in the company of other teens, those manners seem to get forgotten. 

I will fully admit that while yes, I had the infamous New York pizza, it didn’t really taste all that much better than the pizza I order from down the block monthly. Granted, the pizzeria is owned by a 2nd generation Italian immigrant whose grandparents owned a restaurant in Italy, so I may be a bit spoiled when it comes to Italian food. 

What I remember most about the evening after arriving at the theater was that it was both exactly what I expected and not what I expected at all. First, dear reader, you must recall that a Broadway musical or really any theatrical performance “on Broadway” could take place on any one of 41 stages in New York City which can seat 500 or more persons. There are in point of fact only three theaters located on Broadway itself: Broadway Theater, Palace Theatre and Winter Garden Theatre. So even though one might picture Broadway and one of these three theaters, one might find oneself in a theater several blocks away.

Prior to going to a Broadway production, my theater experiences consisted of the Fulton in Lancaster and the Hershey Theater, neither of which are architectural sisters to those in New York. So while I had a vague notion of what a theater looked like from pictures and movies, it was still in juxtaposition to the Hershey which was designed after a cathedral in Venice and the Fulton which was designed as a Victorian Opera house. What struck me most was the sheer amount of red velvet that they had at the entrance. It seemed quite a bit odd while still ornate. I remember thinking that the entrance was a bit smaller than I had imagined as we were ushered into what seemed to be too small a space before opening up into a larger area. 

To be honest, the venue vaguely reminded me of a posh movie theater. It had a more modern flair and everything was a rich dark red and black accented with golds. Sound was softened by the lush carpet so that the conversation of the crowd swarming inside was a hushed murmur around me. Everywhere I looked people were smiling with an eagerness of anticipation. Once inside the theater, the air positively hummed with the activity of people quickly seeking out their spots. I was situated stage left towards the middle of theater close enough to see well enough but not to really see the more subtle expressions of the actors. 

It hardly mattered, from the moment the curtain rose and the first notes rang out, I was transfixed. Glinda floated down in a sparkling blue dress singing that no one would mourn the Wicked Witch. I remember watching the Wizard dance around the stage with Elphaba’s mother singing and giggling with one another, a slight deviation from the book already. By the second song of Dear Ol’ Shiz, I was taken up into the story which asks what makes someone wicked? The very same question that first led me to explore psychology and later a career in social work. 

It’s hard to exactly describe the sheer spectacle of a broadway production from the sets to the costumes; everything is meticulously crafted to convey subtle messages and create impressions which help tell the story. Scattered throughout were small references to the original Wizard of Oz while still firmly establishing the differences from the source material. It began to take an almost dreamlike quality where your mind begins to fill in the holes that the set leaves open, a few trees become a forest, a few mock houses spring into a whole town until your mind is sort of tricked into thinking there was more than there really was.

It could be that it’s the songs that help weave the enchantment for there is ever magic in song. It makes it easy to slip out of solid reality and into the dream realm. After all, it’s really only in dreams that people would be singing and dancing to tell a story. Perhaps, the music really does help place your mind in an altered state allowing you to more fully experience it. The choreography only adds to dream as people twirl about the stage becoming whirls of color. During the songs with larger ensembles it becomes too much to take all in, your eyes unable to drink in each movement and the lyrics blend together in your ears. 

However, just like the spells woven in the musical, so too, does the spell the cast holds over the audience eventually shatter. The last song sung, the last line spoken and as if on cue the audience breaks into applause the thundering of hundreds of hands slapping together creating a wave of discordant sound which rouses them out of their half dazed slumber. Half stumbling out into the night and slightly stiff from sitting too long, the crowd begins to dissipate. Each person with a sort of half glazed look in their eyes as if they aren’t quite free from the enchantment of the stage. Patrons speak excitedly to one another, a few hum, fewer still hum on key. A number of them will most likely find themselves in bars later drunk on more than just showtunes. For a group of rowdy teens, the only thing left to do was to be herded back onto the coach bus. 

Considering the lateness of the night, we returned in relative quiet, the lights were turned low to allow us the opportunity to sleep. I was never one to really sleep during transportation, did not. Although the next day, I was exhausted for yet a third field trip with my German class, but that is a post for another time. I recall mostly stumbling into my bed in the wee hours of the morning resigned to the idea that in only a few short hours I would have to return to the waking world. Still, as I lay in my bed the songs played over in my mind and my dreams were swirls of color. 

Years later, I went to another Broadway Musical, this time Kiss Me Kate, a retelling of Shakespear’s Taming of the Shrew. The magic that was cast was as real as the first time. Time once again was suspended and I was overtaken by the spell of the theater. 

How can you see a Broadway Musical?

If you are lucky enough to be relatively close to New York City, then it is quite easy for one to get there. You can either be like my music department and secure transportation for the same day knowing that you may end up crawling back into your bed in the wee hours of the morning utterly spent and exhausted or you can arrange to stay overnight like I did when I went with my sister with a hotel close by. The latter option is of course far more expensive.

However, my sister and I had tacked on an evening in New York as part of a larger trip as we were departing from New York. We had determined that rather than trying to get to New York the same day as departure we opted to go the day before to ensure that we did not miss our cruise ship. This is certainly an option I encourage you to consider when traveling, dear reader. If you find that you need to arrive to or depart from a city you otherwise would not travel to, consider if it’s possible to extend your trip by a day in order to enjoy the sights. My sister did this in Barcelona as well and I hope to do so in London. If one is going to be there anyways then it is far cheaper in the long run to spend a little extra on a day rather than spending even more later on a separate trip. 

Still, not everyone will be traveling in and out of New York nor is everyone able to travel to it on a lark for a day trip. Then the principle of the thing is what one must turn to. Now a Broadway production is a grand thing, but it is not the only way to enjoy a Broadway Musical which is a genre rather than the thing itself. There are many beautiful and glorious venues which put on performances of musicals. Take the earlier mentioned Hershey Theater which is a masterpiece of architecture. The quality of performances that have graced its stage are certainly equal to New York’s Broadway or London’s West End. Some performances may even surpass what one may see on Broadway depending on the quality of the actors, costumes and set pieces.

There is after all nothing inherently magical about a particular venue, Broadway just happens to be the place where most musical productions are developed and debuted. It is the place to go if you want to see the newest musicals; it is not the only place with capable of phenomenal performances. This is great news, as you, dear reader, are almost certainly within a reasonable distance of a grand theater which hosts performances. I encourage you to go forth to your nearest performance hall and find yourself lost in the magic of musical theater!

Completed: Spring 2006

Cost: Current cost $100 – 200 per ticket 

Miles from home: 150

Reverse Bucket List: Unicorn Tapestries

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Occasionally, I like to share bucket list items from my reverse bucket list or include tales from further afield. It isn’t to necessarily go off track or to undermine the purpose of my blog, but rather present an open and honest representation of my list, the things I’ve accomplished and how I’ve done them. I would be remiss to only showcase the things that I’ve done close to home as that would be creating a false impression that one really can complete everything without travel. Depending on where you are and what you want to do with your life, some travel may be required. I also don’t want to be held up as some sort of standard of perfection or be accused later on of not practicing what I preach. I’ve watched many influences and internet personalities over the years to see that the truth will come out and I do myself no favors by presenting a false narrative of my life. Who knew honesty was the best policy? 

This item is from both my reverse bucket list and from tales further afield. It should come as no surprise dear reader that I love unicorns. 

I know – you’re in absolute shock, never in a million years did you see this confession coming! Sarcasm may be a 2nd language for me, followed closely by bad English and then German. 

Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com

I digress. I love unicorns. My very first stuffed animal from the day I was born was in fact a unicorn. It doubled as a music box that played Somewhere Over the Rainbow. The unicorn’s name is Rainbow and she was my favorite toy. I even took her to Germany with me when I was in college. She still sits on a shelf in my room. Growing up in the 90’s unicorns were difficult to find, but my mother still managed to get me the rare unicorn toy and find me the rare unicorn book. I read every book that had a unicorn in it, including a book which showcased the La Dame a la Licorne or The Lady and the Unicorn. 

The Lady and the Unicorn tapestries are a collection of six tapestries housed in Paris France. They were created in the style known as thousand flowers and it is easy to see where it gets its name as the background of the tapestries are woven with hundreds of flowers. The tapestries were woven in Flanders out of wool and silk from designs created about 1500 AD. They were hidden away for potentially centuries  in Boussac castle until their discovery in 1841. Interestingly enough they were dated correctly by the novelist George Sand as coming from the 15th century based on the depiction of the ladies’ costumes. Never underestimate a woman’s eye for fashion. 

The six tapestries depict five of the senses, touch, taste, smell, hearing and sight. The sixth one is a bit of a mystery as it displays the following motto on the lady’s tent “A Mon Seul Desir” or “my sole desire”, but it has been translated differently by different people leaving us with some ambiguity. I find it rather strange that the tapestries with no words are the ones with the clearest meanings, but the one with words leaves us scratching our heads. Some interpretations believe is a renunciation of the passions, an assertion of her free will; others see it as representing a sixth sense of understanding. This last one is based on sermons from 1420 which lines up with the timeline of the tapestries. 

Pardon the darkness of the picture, this was taken in 2009 and flash photography was not permitted

Nevertheless these tapestries are beautiful works of medieval art. They not only depict six scenes, but also they are representative of the interplay between the arts and their patrons at that time period with the banners depicting the heraldry of the nobility who sponsored them. The arts could not have survived without the support of patrons. This interplay was an important part of the social structure of the time.  Additionally, it is reflective of the importance of the Christian church as like most art of the time period it carries themes from the Christian faith. One of the reasons I so loved unicorns was they were often a reference to Christ in medieval art. Finally, they demonstrated fashion at the time of their creation. Larger tapestries, like these, were used to showcase wealth and power as well as to provide extra insulation in drafty castles. They were both art and a craft. 

Today, the suite of The Lady and the Unicorn is housed in the Musee de Cluny in Paris. A fitting home for these tapestries and the Cluny mansion was built in the late 1400’s and houses many medieval artifacts like these. I almost missed them entirely on my trip to Paris. I will fully admit that I never thought I would get to Paris. I knew that the tapestries were housed in France, but where in France, I could not have told you where exactly. Because I never thought I’d go, I did not pay much attention to what was actually in Paris other than the famous monuments and the Mona Lisa. 

However, I did get to go in April of 2009, during my study abroad. It was a semi-last minute decision. I found out a friend of mine was going to be in Paris and so I asked Erica, a fellow American girl and fantasy book nerd, if she’d like to go with me to Paris to meet up with him. There, I was in Paris enjoying the museums, the history, the culture, the food – they did not lie, they have delicious food. I kept noticing the unicorn tapestries on bags, pillow covers, notebooks, all those touristy things they try to sell you in the gift shops. At first, I dismissed them as just standard French tourist crap that they sell all over the country. When finally, while at the Sainte Chapelle (one of the most gorgeous churches on the planet), I asked a person behind the counter in a curious voice, “Are those tapestries here in Paris?” “Yes.” I am certain they could feel my excitement go from zero to hundred in under 10 seconds, for they seemed a bit alarmed by my enthusiastic and semi-desperate, “Where?” They politely answered, “The Medieval Museum, it is nearby.” And proceeded to give the overly excitable American directions. Luckily for me, Erica being an archeology major had zero objection to my abrupt course correction to the Medieval Museum and we rushed to get there before it closed for the day. Did my feet hurt from walking nearly 15 miles that day? Yes. Did I care? Absolutely, not there were unicorns to see! (We won’t talk about how we couldn’t figure out the darn subway system and walked the entire historical district of the city).

It took most of my self control not to simply rush through the museum to the tapestries, but I respected Erica’s desire to linger over the various pieces of history displayed. I did my best to hold my excitement back, even though I may have been bouncing up and down at the front desk chanting “unicorn” upon entry to the museum. I was twenty-one, child-like displays of youthful enthusiasm were perfectly permissible. Now, I must display my excitement in more subdued expressions or so I’ve been told. Some people are simply no fun. 

Finally, we came to the tapestries and they were even more glorious in person than on any page or screen. There are many pieces of art that I have seen in the printed form that I have not found to be all that different or impressive in person leaving me a bit disappointed after the build up. The tapestries were certainly not disappointing in person. Because one can really see each piece of woven thread and appreciate every flower. The magnitude of the work cannot be understated when confronted with the sheer size and detail of this masterpiece. It represents hundreds of hours of work. According to a post from the metropolitan museum of art, a set of six large tapestries  would have taken thirty weavers between eight and sixteen months to complete. That is not accounting for the hours of design that went into the cartoon that the weavers would need to produce the tapestry. 

To most people reading this, a textile project taking that long is unthinkable, not when you can hop on amazon, buy a woven blanket for 60 bucks and be enjoying it with prime 2 day delivery. A wall hanging in the medieval style can also be yours for about $220 and also be in your home in about two days. A tapestry at the time of their making would be worth thousands in today’s dollars. 

Upon entering the dark room, my excitement turned to quiet awe. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of them. I floated to them as if caught in a dream. I cannot say for certain, how long I sat there admiring them, taking in their craftsmanship and cursing my lack of botanical knowledge to identify the plants. I examined each one carefully noting the themes and subtle details. I doubt I said much to my travel companion as I studied them. The pictures never did them justice, how could they? How do you capture in words their beauty and masterful craftsmanship? How do you fully appreciate their vibrant colors and shapes without seeing them in person? A picture loses so much when it’s shrunken down to fit on a page and our imaginations are limited by what we’ve experienced. Too soon, I left them, but there was the rest of Paris to see and far too little time to fully appreciate the City of Lights. Adieu mon amour, perhaps we shall meet again one day. 

Pardon the darkness of the picture, this was taken in 2009 and flash photography was not permitted

How can you see tapestries?

Well, you don’t have to hop on a plane to France to see tapestries. There are museums here in the United States that display various tapestries from the Medieval and Renaissance eras. If you are particularly interested in seeing unicorn tapestries after reading me wax poetic about them, there is a set of them at the Cloisters in New York which are governed by the Metropolitan Museum of Art. They are a set of seven tapestries, also from around the same period as The Lady and the Unicorn and are in the style of the thousand flowers. Just as with the tapestries in France, these also hold mysteries such as how to interpret the tapestries and even who they were made for. Depending where you are in the country, a plane ride may or may not be necessary. 

I highly recommend if you ever get to either New York or Paris, to take time to see these masterpieces. Provided of course such things are of interest to you. You know by now, that I always tell people to skip that which holds no interest or intrigue to them. Life is too short to waste it on things you don’t enjoy. 

Learn an Instrument: Rediscovering a Passion

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One of the definitive moments in my life is sitting on the couch staring at my mother’s boombox in absolute rapture as Pacabel’s Canon in D played. I was in love. It was without a doubt one of the most beautiful things I had ever heard, the violin. It was not simply an instrument, oh no, this was the very voice of my being. If I lose my ability to speak, let me only speak in notes and songs. If someone gave me a choice between becoming deaf or blind, I would pick blindness every time, do not deny me music, it is the very sustenance of my soul. 

I unfortunately would have to wait several years before being offered the opportunity to play, but in 3rd grade our school offered us music lessons. I was absolutely elated to be able to pick the violin. I would have no other instruments. But oh, how I struggled to master it. The violin is a very easy instrument in principle. After all, how hard can it be? You have four strings, you press down your fingers to shorten said strings in order to achieve the different notes and to produce the sound you move a bow across. Other instruments require learning combinations of key presses to produce the sounds and controlling your breath to go up and down octaves. Surely those are much harder to master. 

It is in fact considered one of the most difficult instruments to learn. In part because it is such an easy thing in principle it lends itself to having a wide variety of producible sounds and variations of intonation. Additionally, it has no guides; each note (with exception of the open strings) must be produced flawlessly with little more than muscle memory and your ear to guide you as you slide your hand up and down the neck of the violin.  The spacing between your fingers varies depending on the “position” you’re in, the higher the position the closer you must space your fingers to produce the correct notes in tune. You are constantly adjusting with little more than a prayer. 

There are no words to describe the thrill of playing with mastery, effortlessly hitting the notes, cheekily moving your bow in just the right way to go from quiet to loud, hitting the bow catch to enhance the power behind the stroke, connecting the notes together in a slur or punctuating them with a staccato. The violin may be one of the most challenging, but it is also one of the most rewarding because it allows you to have so much expression and creativity with the interpretation of a piece of music. 

This isn’t to knock other instruments or to write a post about the superiority of one instrument over the other. For me, the violin is the best instrument it speaks to me in a way no other instrument or creative expression can. Which is really what this bucket list item is for me. It’s about utilizing the violin to express myself in an entirely new way. Playing is a simple joy. 

My collection of intermediate pieces that I have chosen to master over the next year or so

Sadly this was not always the case. I loved the violin and my parents knew this, so they encouraged me to pursue a potential music career. For reasons, I will not fully explain; I ended up with PTSD and unfortunately a secondary anxiety disorder. This greatly negatively impacted my ability to play. From a psychological perspective, my voice was silenced. I tried to hold on to it but the more I fought to keep my voice the worse it got and the worse my playing got. After high school, having failed my auditions for acceptance into a music program, I put the violin away. I kept telling myself that it was only temporary and I would practice again soon. It wasn’t until nearly 17 years later that I picked it back up again. 

I can’t say exactly what makes it different this time, only that I am playing 100% for myself. It isn’t to perform or to achieve anything. It was remembering why I loved playing in the first place, to reclaim that joy rather than focusing on achievement. Not having that pressure to compete has made going back to music like falling in love all over again. I think sometimes when we start to push ourselves into making our passions a profession or career or business it robs us of that joy. I probably wouldn’t have lost my music for 17 years if my violin playing had only been for joy as it is now. Granted the PTSD and secondary anxiety didn’t help but I wouldn’t have felt anxious about my playing if the playing had only been for its own sake and not my entire future. 

I cannot describe in words what it feels like to play now. Only that it feels like coming home. I approach it with a child’s enthusiasm and uncritical spirit. Mistakes are not a death sentence but a whimsical learning opportunity. I don’t mind people listening to my practice sessions, let them listen! I am in my own world once my boy hits the strings and I am in love with the violin once again. I almost never go a day without playing. It sustains me as much as food or water. A life without music was a life without color.  

Revisiting a piece I had mastered in middle school.

 I could have checked off “learn and instrument” from my reverse bucket list and continued to allow my violin to languish in the closet, but I didn’t because this wasn’t about learning to play an instrument, it was about rediscovering something that was lost and reclaiming it as my own. I wonder dear reader what creative outlets have you lost over the years? What passions have lain fallow under the guise of failure and self-doubt? What have you stopped doing because you weren’t “good enough”? What might happen if you picked it back up again? Would you rediscover a childlike wonder? Would you find yourself itching to get back to it after work? Would you find yourself refreshed in a way you haven’t been in a long time, like a desert after a rainstorm? Remember this isn’t to “turn your passion into a career”, so often that mindset was the very thing that turned you off your passion to begin with. Dear reader, you need not justify all that you do, sometimes you just love something; it brings you joy and that is the only justification that you need to pursue it 

How can you rekindle your lost passions?

If you’re like me, you may find your instrument hidden away in a closet somewhere only in need of a little TLC to get started once again. Perhaps, it requires a trip to the art store. Maybe you need to reach out to an intramural sports team.  Whatever it is, chances are you already know how to get back into it,  you just need to take the steps to do it. Even something like dance can be done by just clearing a little space in a room. After several months of play, I invested in new strings. After several more months, I am in search of a violin teacher to help coach me further.

Art Gallery Opening

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It was a beautiful day in late June, one of those rare, comfortable mid-summer days. The ones where the humidity is low and a cool light breeze blows through the air. After driving about twenty minutes to Intercourse, Pennsylvania through rolling farmlands, I arrived to what might at first seem a rather curious sight. Nestled among the shops peddling Amish made goods, quilts and antiques, an art gallery was hosting its grand opening. Curious indeed – but only to those not in the know about Lancaster’s not so secret art scene. I eagerly stepped into the gallery certain of what I would find.

A few minutest later, the sound of a violin and cello serenaded me as I sipped on a chilled glass of rose and took in the latest collection of art by Freiman Stoltzfus – personal friend and brilliant artist. A small crowd meandered inside speaking in hushed tones to one another excitedly. I caught snippets of conversation as I pursued almost as intrigued by those around me as the art itself. Who doesn’t love people watching? By all accounts, they were as enamored by the art as I was, but of course, his work was resplendent, as always. 

Fellow art enthusiasts

Naturally, I wanted to gush at him for a job well done one his second gallery, but one does not take up too much of an artist’s time on an evening like this. A gallery opening is not the time for catching up and conversing with the artist, but a time for him to mix and mingle with the crowd to sell his art. Manners dictated that I give him a polite hello, a brief congratulations and then space to do his job. An intimate dinner at a later time would be more than sufficient to catch up. 

Others mingled nearby, appreciating his use of color in combination with that subtle geometry of nature so prevalent in his works. Somehow his pieces manage to convey movement as well as sound, one can almost hear the pieces of Bach and Vivaldi when looking at them. His juxtaposition of nature and architecture transforms groves of trees into churches and flowers into stained glass windows. Many of his pieces harken back to his Amish roots and feature quilt patterns, pastures, fields and orchards.

I am always dazzled by the re-imagine of the themes that frequent his work. While he may often feature flowers or music, each time a different rendering or another motif has been added to the repertoire. As of this writing, his most recent motif has been Japanese, as he spent about a month visiting a friend in Japan. It is most reminiscent of Van Gogh’s own post-Japan phase. Who can blame either artist for being so enchanted by a country who created an entire profession dedicated to being a living work of art, the geisha? 

When one pictures a gallery opening, perhaps you see in your mind’s eye wealthy men and women milling around in a stark white room, sipping wine as they pretentiously critique the art that adorns the walls. Their oblique vocabulary and near incomprehensible assessment of the pieces in question may lead you to believe that such a place would not be for you. I assure you dear reader that art is indeed for everyone. After all, even the Neanderthals made art! The need and desire to create is embedded in our DNA! I am not recommending we jet off to New York City to attend some opening where an artist has squiggled across the page as some sort of obtuse commentary on the state of the world or art or some other thing. 

Freiman welcoming us all to his gallery

Don’t get me wrong, while I am not an aficionado of the art world and certainly not contemporary or modern or postmodern or whatever we’re calling current art these days, I can appreciate art as a commentary piece. I just object to having to read an entire essay in order to understand a work – at that point, you probably could have skipped the art and gone to the essay, but to each their own! Although, one could make an argument that the piece itself conveys emotions that an essay cannot. I shall halt in my musing less this become its own essay on modern art and its merits. I shall leave you to your own musings, gentle reader. 

This post is for those of us who want to appreciate a more accessible, down to earth art. Few people are going to look at a Renaissance, Neo-classical or Pre-Raphaelite painting and scratch their heads going “I don’t get it”. They at least can identify the subject matter even if they might not fully understand what the artist was trying to convey, the culture surrounding its creation and the values of that culture to influence the work. These however are a good 200 – 400 years old in terms of styles and one may be forgiven thinking the only art being produced these days are bananas taped to walls. However, there are many artists who paint in the older styles with a modern flare. Not every artist is a pretentious snob deriding the masses for simply not “getting” their art and walling art off as some sort of exclusive club. Most, if not all, really are producing art for everyone. They want their pieces to be appreciated by the most unsophisticated child to the greatest art critics of our time. They range from the bright playful colors of Brito, to the surrealist fantasies of Nam Das, to the impressionist Slava Ilyayev and beyond. 

There are many places in the various towns and cities across America where these artists gather either to sell together as a collaborative effort or in their own small galleries. Some blend art and craft together in an almost seamless line where you can’t quite decide where craft becomes art. I suppose the easiest is that crafts tend to have a practical purpose whereas art simply exists for beauty’s sake. I recommend going and checking out the local artists. I especially love speaking with them, learning about their passion, hearing why they tend to pick certain subjects or colors. Go and check them out, see which artist speaks to you and then lend them your support! 

Whether you attend a gallery opening or not, do take time to look at art. You will find your spirit enriched by the experience. Art connects us, communicates with us in a way words cannot, what we see reflected in art is also a reflection of ourselves. Art is creation and destruction. Art reaches across boundaries. Art can propel movements and shake empires. Art can also be a simple thing like a deep breath after a long day of work or a cool glass of water on a hot day. But whatever art is, it is for everyone. 

One his his many cartography inspired pieces

How can you go to an art gallery or exhibition opening?

It’s simple! Find your local art community and watch out for events. You may find your local university frequently displays artists or even one night events at your library. You may be surprised at the talent you see displayed or that your local artist is actually world renowned! Some may be a bit more humble on both counts, but that wasn’t really the point.

Completed: July 2021

Miles from home: 15 miles

Cost: Free to go (most openings are)

Art Cost: You most likely will not be able to purchase the art at an opening because let’s face it, we’re budget bucket listers and having 3 grand to drop on even a modest painting is not something we can do. However, many artists have alternatives such as giclées and prints. Freiman usually has a small collection of 6×6 paintings for $125 to help make his art accessible to those who want original art without the large price tag.