Art Shack
Photograpy by Linda Todd
ART SHACK
By Marilyn Slade
I am lost in the world of painting
behind a green stripped awning.
I paint Shelley’s portrait, chose canvas, oils
hoping not to be disturbed.
The signs outside say
welcome, free art, local art.
An arrow points to our Gallery.
I hope no one will come.
I wrap myself in my work.
The peace of it, the solitude.
Not loneliness only.
Contentment with every breath.
She knocks, I say, “Come in.”
The interloper says,
“You do beautiful work.”
“Hummmm,” I mumble.
“That looks like Shelley,” she adds
I ask, “From the Gingerbread School?”
“Yes,” she says, “and you have captured her joy.
My Little Billy goes to Gingerbread School.”
“Hummmm,” I say with inflection.
* * *
I move our signs closer to the road.
Brighten the shack with a bold yellow.
The pathway screams “come hither.”
Sun through the once-covered window
shines light over my nearly finished
portrait of Little Billy.
What’s in a Place?
By Julaina Kleist-Corwin
A rose is a rose
regardless of the garden.
Fine art is fine art
regardless of the gallery.
Art Shack
By Paula Chinick
A funky old shack
reveals locals arts and crafts
all hidden within.
By Linda Todd
“Pull over. There it is.” Celia said. The rusted roof of the shack with the colorful banners out front held the promise of the prize she sought.
Daniel drove on. “You’ve been searching for three days.”
“No, go back.” Celia’s voice squeaked in panic as she craned her neck to see the remnants of the gallery disappear behind the monstrous leaves entwined around the towering palms. She turned back around. “It’s the one. I’m sure of it.”
“We’ll be late for the snorkel sail. We can catch it on the way back.”
Dread gnawed at her insides. She didn’t see the mist that rose from the waterfalls along the hillsides they passed or the view of the Pacific when the road edged along a cliff. She only saw the object that she desired, a replica of the koa wood bowl that had burned in the fire three years ago along with her ring.
Her mother had given them the bowl to use during their wedding. Her parents had used the same bowl when they married over forty years ago. Every day, they seemed more in love with each other.
Celia needed the bowl for the recommitment ceremony tomorrow. She counted on the renewal of vows and ring blessing to put their lives back together after the disastrous years that had followed the fire.
“This looks like the place,” Daniel said. “Come on. Grab your gear.”
Celia had wished for a flock of the chickens that roamed the island to block the road and make them late so she could return to the gallery. No such luck. The clock on the dash showed they were ten minutes early.
Daniel handed Celia the basket filled with sunscreen, beach towels, and snacks while he shouldered the two snorkel gear bags. Celia tried to bury her thoughts of circling sharks and capsizing boats and ignore her stomach that cramped in fear. She focused on her memories of when they were in Hawaii ten years ago for their wedding. They had been so active then, horseback riding, kayaking, snorkeling and hiking, and of course lovemaking.
Celia’s fear turned to guilt to think of how she had squandered their first few days on the island this time. She needed to concentrate on the here and now, be in the moment, as her yoga instructor taught.
When they had settled on the boat, Daniel laid his hand on Celia’s thigh and gave her a gentle squeeze. “It’s going to be fine. We’ll go looking after our tour.”
Daniel swam below, inches from the reef, while Celia skimmed the surface of the water alternating her view of the fish through her mask and scanning the horizon for a dorsal fin slicing through the water. The captain had assured Celia no shark sightings had occurred in the bay in the seven years he had been piloting these tours.
There’s always a first time. The fire was a first, as were the problems with the insurance company and contractor, and then the fight.
Celia’s spirits rose as the boat motored back in the harbor and she and Daniel were one of the first to disembark. They drove onto the road before most of the other passengers had made it to their cars.
She gathered her hair in a clasp to keep it from slapping her in the face, then glanced at her watch. They had been driving for forty minutes and should have arrived at the gallery by now. “Can’t you go faster? They’ll be closed by the time we get there.”
“Relax, we’ll make it. Enjoy the scenery.”
Daniel’s answer to everything, just relax. Celia once found his carefree way of approaching life an endearing counterbalance to her own anxiety driven existence. During the fight, though, it had infuriated her. How could he have been so nonchalant about the evidence she had found. Any woman would have come to the same conclusion if presented with the same set of circumstances. Daniel laughed. Celia called a lawyer. After a month of hurtful words said by both, they reconciled and planned to renew their vows on their tenth anniversary.
“We must be getting close,” said Celia as she sat up straight and peered out the window. “There it is. Pull over.” Celia pointed at the colored banners that advertised local fine art.
Tires crunched over the graveled parking area. Celia unfastened her seat belt, gathered her purse, and opened the door before Daniel had turned off the key. She pulled on the gallery’s door handle. It did not open. Panic pinched her belly. She pounded on the door and then looked into the grimy window. The lights were on.
Daniel came up in his slow and steady way. “Closed?”
“Yes. I told you. We should have stopped this morning.”
“They could have been closed then too. There weren’t any cars in the lot when we drove by.”
Celia blinked back the tears that threatened to spill on her cheeks. “At least we could have checked.”
Daniel gathered her in his arms. “It’s okay. We don’t need a stupid bowl.”
Celia broke away from Daniel. “So now I’m stupid?”
“No. That’s not what I said.”
“Can I help you?” A woman came through an arbor overgrown with vines.
Celia wiped her face.
“We’d like to take a look inside,” said Daniel.
“Sure. Come in.”
Celia worked her way around the gallery as Daniel exchanged pleasantries with the proprietor. Bold bright quilts hung from one wall; jewelry cases displayed necklaces, bracelets, and earrings; paintings and photographs hung on the other windowless wall. Celia skirted between the tables and display cases and made her way to the back wall where koa wood vases, boxes, and carvings lined the shelves of a bookcase. Plenty of objects caught her eye, but nothing they could use tomorrow.
“Do you have any koa wood bowls?” Celia interrupted the woman.
“Did you see the salad sets?”
“I was looking for something smaller, to use for the blessing of the rings.”
“That’s all I have. You know, you don’t have to bring your own. The reverend will have one to use and usually offers it as a keepsake.” She continued telling Daniel the story of her family’s many generations on the island.
Celia turned away and feigned interest in the puzzle box she picked up. She had been sure she’d find what she had been looking for in this little gallery. She didn’t believe the power of the ceremony would be the same without her own bowl, but she was out of time. They meet the reverend on the beach tomorrow at dawn. She joined Daniel at the counter and when she noticed she still held the box, she handed it to the woman. “I’ll take this.”
The next morning, waves tickled the beach in a gentle rhythmic beat as Daniel and Celia stood at the edge of the grass with the reverend. Celia managed to clear her mind and concentrated on the words. They exchanged leis and shared kisses. The reverend explained how the lei represented the eternal commitment and devotion to each other. They repeated their vows that were so similar to the ones they had said to each other during their wedding, and then at last, he asked if there were rings to bless.
Daniel placed their rings in Celia’s cupped palms. The reverend dipped a Ti leaf in the bowl filled with seawater and sprinkled the rings three times while he chanted. He spoke of how the water washed back into the Pacific any hindrances of their relationship and Celia imagined the troubles of the past three years float out to sea.
The reverend continued to speak of how the best relationships are challenged at times, how the principle of forgiveness, grace and release is essential to marriage, and the need to take time whenever necessary to build understanding and find restoration of union when conflict arises.
Celia had forgotten those words from ten years ago. Isn’t that what they had done, met their challenges, took time out to restore their marriage when it seemed to fall apart? Their relationship had always had integrity and strength as its foundation. How could I have placed so much significance in a bowl?
The ritual concluded with the lava rock and Ti leaf blessing. The reverend congratulated them and presented the certificate commemorating their vow renewal. “Would you like the bowl as a memento?”
“No thank you,” Celia said. She linked her arm through Daniel’s. “I think we do just fine on our own.”