The holiday sale and show at the Fredericksburg Center for the Creative Arts starts today, and runs through the month of December. I arrived early for my docent shift and dropped off my bags, filled out the contract, and looked around to check out the other work for sale. Hanging on the wall not five feet away were two of my favorite local artist’s oil paintings, Marcia Chaves. For the life of me I can’t find a website for her, but she’s an older lady so she may not have one. The link I found is actually from the gallery’s archive.
The first time I was a docent at the gallery was back in January, and she had a piece in the show for that month. I was dumbstruck. I loved the way she captured the building she painted, her brushstrokes and smooth lines, and her brilliant colors. Neither of the work hanging on the wall had a price tag yet, but her work is usually in the 400 dollar range, which I think is way under-priced. I haven’t bought any of her work yet, partly because I’m not overburdened with discretionary income right now, and partly because hanging one of her works in my house would automatically cheapen everything else I have up on the walls.
I asked the downstairs docent if Marcia had said if she would be back that day to tag them, but she wasn’t sure. So I get back to work, try to move on with my life, and a few hours later a woman walks in. She tells me she’s stopping by real quick to tag her work. My heart skips a beat. I ask “Are you Marcia Chaves?” She says yes. I tell myself not to creep this woman out, do not throw yourself across the desk at a little white-haired old lady, don’t be trite… “OOOOOOhhhmigawd I love your work!” She seemed pleasantly surprised to hear that. “I love your brushstrokes, the colors…” She tells me a little about her process, I practically have stars in my eyes that my hero would deign to speak to me like an equal. She even thanked ME! I did let her go to complete her errand, but I was giggling like a loon at the idea that my work was in the same gallery as hers, even if it’s not curated or juried. I really am a loon. It’s the little things, isn’t it?