Yesterday I discovered one piece without a hanging sleeve and another without a sewn-on label. Then there are the hanging tags for all the doodle squares that must be made and attached and, after I decide what to put on each wall label for the bigger pieces, including a price for those I am selling, I need to print them and cut them up. I am, of course, still binding a couple of doodle squares. And I want to photograph all the pieces just in case any of them goes home with a new owner. And the list goes on. I haven't even mentioned the time spent helping to set up the show.
There is a certain amount of excitement to all this. The exhibit opens the weekend of our local Dickens of a Christmas celebration, when three blocks of Main Street are closed off and hordes of tourists as well as current and former residents descend upon our small town. The art center is at the edge of all this activity but still benefits from the increased numbers of people.
Since sales are far from guaranteed, money is definitely not the force that drives me to put in the hours of preparation. So why do I do it? Perhaps a strong case of egotism, a desire for attention? Always a possibility, but I can think of many far easier ways to get attention. And since I usually have to take a couple of deep breaths before I even show my work at the guild meeting, I am not sure I am that intent on trying to grab center stage. But, although I am not usually trying to convey a message, there is a certain amount of communication involved in my quilts, perhaps of the beyond-verbal variety (or sub-verbal, if you prefer), and that happens more easily if someone actually sees them. So an exhibit like this with all the time it takes can be a natural part of the creative process--at least as I am looking at it today. Now back to sewing on that sleeve.
And if you are still with me, thanks for the company.