The last three months led up to this night.

After attending Opus 01, I knew I wanted to be a part of this.

John, as a true friend, flew from Toronto to be there for the night. Alex, who was doing a medical internship at a family practice in a nearby city, drove there. Even Pearl also dropped by and I got to meet her.

I was so busy talking with my guests that I didn’t even have time to go into the other rooms to see how the other artists were doing. The house was packed with people again, young and old.

Performances

Jacqueline’s second piece was Sonata in A Minor, by Franz Schubert (unfortunately, her first piece was over ten minutes long, which isn’t allowed on YouTube). I found it to be a rather masculine piece, beginning like a sombre funeral march, leading to a journey of bubbling emotion, so it was mesmerizing to see a girl play it with such conviction. Pay special attention to the burning trill at 5:28, which leads back to the main theme.

Misun told me that when she handed Jacqueline a rose after the performance, it looked like she had run a marathon.

Afterwards, Jacqueline told me after she couldn’t stop looking at my penis through her performance, then quickly corrected herself and said the penis picture, which was hung across from her.

Louise plays the harp by feeling only. She doesn’t have formal any musical training, so she doesn’t write any of her compositions down. It just flows from her fingers, and quite well I might add. As a result, her music is semi-improvised.

John kept telling us how not drunk he was, even though you can clearly seeing him downing glasses of wine in this video.

The after party

When the people left and the doors closed, the real party began for the artists, their guests, and the volunteers. Frédéric and Misun broke out the cold cuts, the fresh and fancy bread, the wine, the cheese and we celebrated a successful night. We had been standing for five hours, so it was time to take a break.

When Dan gave me a reading two years ago, and said that I would be making money off my art within the next 15 years, I never would have believed him.

There’s a little article in The Metro today about the gallery. In the picture, around the harpist, is part of my Fruit and Body series. I’ve decided to make it a limited edition print of 100 each at 18"×12". So far I’ve sold four, with two potentials.

It’s the last day of the exhibit. I’ll be there again tonight because another paper wants some pictures of the artists, and so I can meet with any guests, including one of my buyers. If you stop by, don’t forget to sign the guestbook!

I feel utterly intoxicated.

With a hammer and a ladder, we hung my pictures tonight, carefully deciding where to place each one to balance the colours, the orientations, the shapes, and the concepts.

Amongst the wine and the wood, the kids and the colours, we stopped to admire the art in the house. Adrienne dropped by to share her latest graphic poems with us, along with her alcoholic findings. “From The Desk Of” Penelope was written that day, dense and deep, full of details taken for granted. The words must write themselves, I thought.

Misun and I seem to share a kinship through our appreciation of expression, something I’ve never had with my friends. Not that there’s anything wrong with them, but I’ve always felt like they can’t relate to me when it comes to emotions or creativity. As I seem to be the creative brother she’s always wanted, and she seems to be the supportive sister I’ve always needed, we agreed to be adopted siblings.

In a recent interview, Frédéric said, in his ebullient Parisian accent, that one of the reasons he wanted to open the Salon is to promote dialogue and interaction. Perhaps it’s this hunger for dialogue that connects us. He also mentioned to me he was stressed out about being interviewed; being put on the spot made him freeze up. I told him I had the same problem with pretty girls. “You’re affected by beauty”, he said, something I knew, but not something that everyone understands.

I left, feeling like I was a part of something wonderful, something greater than myself.

On the bus today, a reporter from the CBC called me for an interview. She started asking me why I got into photography, where I wanted to go with it, and the like. It was strange to be answering these questions because as far as I’ve gone with my photography, no one has ever asked them before. I suppose most people assume it’s like another hobby, without purpose or meaning.

There was also a little mention of my name in the local francophone paper. I find it funny that when translated literally, the title of the article in English is “Go, all with the Living room!”.

Well it wasn’t so much my fault as hers for walking by one of my candles as I was lighting it.