Jim Lyman, gallerist at Lyman-Eyer Gallery in Provincetown, getting help hanging “Golawon” from Stephanie Hobart

I have a friend who can paint a complete show over a summer and still have lots of time to go to the beach and hang out with her pals. I’ve always been a bit envious of her art making sprezzatura—that great Italian word for effortless effort—because that is not my way. Getting ready for a show is a heads down affair, hermitizing in my personal rag and bone shop in South Boston. But that isolation and blinders on focus phase is over. This week the work was delivered to Lyman-Eyer Gallery, the show is hung (it looks spectacular—thanks Jim!) and opens on Friday.

As is often the case, the parallels and metaphors appear. For the last few months I watched as the vines near my studio wall that disappear during our long Boston winters came back into their fullness with reckless abandon. The yard next door is now freshly abandoned by a previous tenant so the matrix of vines and leaves was unobstructed for the first time in years. The day I delivered the show was the same day the landlord chose to rescue the building from death by vining. Ah yes. I get it. Time to move on, to bring a sense of balance to life. But not without first saying thanks to the fecundity that wrapped me all spring.

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