Singing in the Rain and ReLiving My Fair Lady

Creating art becomes a challenge this time of year in Florida. It is in fall and winter that the art scene comes alive. Finding time to create artwork, on the other hand, is limited. Art Shows, juried competitions, and transporting paintings to and from different locations takes precedence.

My last show took place at Hotel Indigo in downtown Fort Myers. In conjunction with the local “Art Walk” we tested this location for accessibility and walking traffic. An evening downpour put a real damper on things, but drove traffic into the hotel for cover. This location is a hot spot for wining, dining and dancing. It also draws local artists, art organizations and a sophisticated crowd of theater goers.

I did find the location of the hotel difficult for loading and unloading paintings. After the show, my husband drove around the block ten times before he found a spot in the driving rain where we could load up my paintings for the return trip home. Whether I give Hotel Indigo another shot is up for grabs based on this inconvenience.

Sales were minimal, but it is only September. Season runs from October through March. We used September as a “dress rehearsal” for the formative months. I did enjoy the good food at the Italian Bistro and at Ichiban, both located within the hotel commons.

My artwork was on display in an interior room off the main hallway. During down times, I did a sketch, read my Kindle and visited with other artists. The location was excellent for lighting and temperature. We were also located close to the restrooms which put a smile on every woman’s face.

Bumping into casual crowds, women in spiked heels and evening gowns accompanied good looking men in dark suits and ties heading for the hotel’s wining and dancing on the third floor. After an unexpected downpour, these same patrons hailed a cab or waited for the valet to bring them their car.

People huddled under the portico and under rows of black umbrellas. I was reminded of a scene from My Fair Lady after the theatre scene on a street in London. Crowds here were equally wet. The melancholy wail of a saxophone drifted outward from the lobby. The mixed crowd that exited gave him tribute by dropping bills in a jar; a knee-jerk reaction for leaving early.

The evening wasn’t a total loss. Yes, a few of my cards and my biography were ruined by rain drops, but by and large everything else made it without damage. A potential buyer showed interest in portraits and in one of my paintings. I can only hope this may lead to something. After all, hope is the sustenance that propels artists to keep on painting and participating in shows.

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