The sun is setting on this balmy evening in Alpine, Texas. The street music is silent; the sidewalks and parking lots are empty of thousands of people milling,  visiting between shopping . Gallery Night signs and banners are coming down. Many of us have feet still aching from standing on them while wearing our best boots all weekend. The last drops of wine have been poured, and the flowers are beginning to wilt.

But even with aching feet, I can still hear the weekend's music.



Fort Davis musician and songwriter Crain Coffey entertains in Kiowa Plaza.
The talented 16 yr-old had to choose between traveling to Alpine, where he'd earned a slot to peform the songs he writes, or to head to San Angelo with his friends to see the Fort Davis Indians continue their championship football quest.
He must have a future in music, because the show went on (to rave reviews from the crowd.)
(The Indians won their football game, despite young Coffey's absence.)


It was another successful ArtWalk/Gallery Night for little Alpine, Texas. And we were there.



That's me, Lindy Severns (in white) with Kiowa Gallery owner Keri Artzt. We're congratulating each other here in my niche at Kiowa. Keri and I run mutual admiration society of sorts. She's a great businesswoman. Makes it easy to be an artist, because she takes care of the details, while all I have to do is paint.



My favorite Texan Jim uncorked dozens of bottles of wine. Now he waits for Kiowa's doors to open.
I enjoy being associated with Kiowa because the gallery is eclectic , a downright fun place to visit. None of the intimidation of padded walls and dimly lit rooms here. We're in the far west of Texas and it shows.



I don't have pictures of the friends who came to see what I've been up to for the past several months, I shot no pictures of new and old collectors, people who adopted my creations. I don't have a shot of Nel and Jer, or Jan and Jim, of sisters Elaine and Adele and Laura clowning around, of photographer/chef Ara and his dog Spirit, of Eman theTurkish rug guy, or fellow pastelist Dina Gregory and husband Brian, of Todd Overstreet and Peggy, Martin who have consistently worked so hard for me at the gallery. Or Roxa, with her constant encouragement.  I missed being able to snap a shot of my sister Kathy, who couldn't get down from Calgary this year.

I didn't get ANY pictures once the doors opened. Visiting about my work, meeting new folks was more important than documenting the moment. But all those people touched a place in my heart.
Painting is a solitary pursuit at best. At worst, it can get downright lonely. Viewers are my reward.
People make an event like this one so special to me.

I sold well. No, I sold REALLY well,—so well, we're a little worried about those big blank spots on the walls, once the buyers pick up their pieces. I sold enough to continue being a full-time artist, and Keri can keep her wonderful gallery open another year. I enjoyed hearing the ooo's and ahhh's of admiring art fans and somewhat surprised friends, who'd never seen one of my paintings. I basked in the acclaim of being the premier artist in the premier gallery in the region. Keri and Jim and I screamed and shouted after the first sale, because we'd all wondered if the current economy would support art.  It does, and then some.

People need beauty. Beauty doesn't depreciate when the stock market plunges.

It was a heady weekend. I'm more than grateful to a lot of people for making it so. Jim and Keri are at the top of that list.

Tears only came to my eyes toward the end.  Jim nudged me shortly before closing the second night. He pointed to a young couple admiring my Chinati sunset pastel, which had sold before the show even opened.  I've learned not to prejudge my buyers, so forgive me this assumption. but these kids looked like paying their electric bill each month taxed their budget to catastrophic levels. But they were young. In love.
They had that freshness about them that comes of still knowing what you're passionate about, before the world barges in to announce what should be your passions.
The girl took the young man's arm, and with her right hand, she slowly traced her way across the painting. Her hand floated into the depths of those canyons I'd created. She wove her hand across the sunlit ridges. Caressing her hand across the glass, she spoke softly to her guy. Intensely.
We couldn't hear what she said.  I like to think she was promising the boy she loved that they would walk that majestic path together.

That's the moment the gala weekend, the demanding past six months, my lifelong career as an artist is all about. I feel that moment.
That girl is why I paint.

"If I had but two loaves of bread,  I would sell one and buy hyacinths, for they would feed my soul."  

I think that quote is from the Koran. I'm not sure whre I got it. But it's been included in every brochure I've ever printed about myself, the artist.
 
You don't have to buy my art. But please, take a moment during this crazy week  in this crazy world to buy yourself hyacinths.
Hyacinths are what it's all about.

Happy Thanksgiving
Lindy