Window Shopping

Almost everyone has known the pleasure of gazing in glass store windows. There is a name for it: “window shopping”. The allure is in tasting the eye candy without having to buy. It is a treat to just look and then move on. 

My art gallery is in a pedestrian mall on the central plaza in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Santa Fe is a major tourist destination in the USA. It is rich in history, is tri-cultural including Anglo, Hispanic and Native American people, is free of pollution and sits among mountains, is the state capitol, and a famous art center. 

Boone Gallery advertises my artwork in a glass display case that is in front of the building on the street bordering the plaza. It is lit all the time and can be seen round the clock whenever anyone stops to look.

The other day, July 5^th, was the anniversary of my daughter's death. My assistant worked half the day. I was supposed to go in the afternoon, but did not have the will to go open up and meet the public. Late in the afternoon my phone rang. I noticed the phone number was from Virginia and thought it was an advertiser so did not answer. The next day I saw that the caller had left a message. Turns out that someone had been “window shopping”, and wanted to make an appointment to see my artwork. When I called back, we had a nice chat and I learned that he liked my art and wanted to see more.

I met the man and his wife at my gallery and they narrowed their choices down to four paintings. The woman left and the man stayed with his friend—deciding. He had a budget and so I offered him a discount for buying more than one. In the end, he bought three.

Window shopping started it all.

The Pristine Moment

The Red Pancho, Oil on linen, 16 x 12 inches

Awakened experiences and new perceptions are occurring regularly and I am thankful for all. My inner child is thriving, along with active imagination, and I have been producing a new series of artwork. 

All I can say is that it must be equanimity. I had a perception the other day—a visualization of looking through a thick sheet of glass. The glass was flawless and absolutely clear, allowing me to see with perfect clarity the world of beautiful nature. I think this showed my inner life is in a calm and peaceful place that allows me to experience the outer world with clear perception. Like a child looking through eyes of wonder, and years of experience offer some wisdom too.

In fact, my energy has been good and I am doing things easily and without resistance. I drove to California for sixteen hours straight. This surprised me. Usually I get dreadfully tired after 500 miles or six or seven hours of driving, and have to drag to a stop. Same on the way back—sixteen hours no problem. My mental state is alert, calm, and reflective. 

If I feel a complaint, I can easily overcome it by absorbing into the “pristine moment.” What is this? It is where love exists in nature and can overcome troublesome mind with great curative effects. 

Daydream, Mixed Media, 16.5 x 12.5 x 3 inches

These days I am busy opening a new art gallery in Santa Fe. It is a temporary affair in the same location on the plaza that I had a gallery last summer for two months. This time I will go three months, taking advantage of the busiest part of the tourist season. I do not know what to expect and I am paying a higher rent than normal for the privilege of not signing a one year lease. Last year it worked nicely, but I am hearing from business people that retail is down from last year. They say it is probably because of the uncertainty of the upcoming election. The whole world is watching as our national spectacle unfolds.

Anyway, I am taking the jump—the same way I did while in New Zealand last January and jumped from a suspension bridge into a deep stream of glacial water far below me. I crossed my arms over my chest and as I hurled myself forward I cried, “Thank You God for everything!”

Blue Pools, Glacier stream, New Zealand

Trading Books

Gondolas, Venice, Italy

These days are among the slowest of the year for tourist traffic on Canyon Road in Santa Fe, New Mexico, the famed art avenue with more than 100 galleries. The weather is cold, and with far fewer world-class events scheduled in the city than in summer, sometimes only a handful of people browse the shops. My wife and I share duties tending our gallery—The Steven Boone Gallery.  It is almost a joke when we call each other and realize that not one person has visited. And then, there are days when of the four people who appear, two are trying to sell something or asking for donations.

Masai boys, Serengeti, Tanzania

The other day was like that. An older man came in, looked around cursorily, and asked about a large photo on my wall. I said it was taken in Kashmir, India. “I bet you do not have many people who see that and who have actually been there—like me!” We began talking and he took a card out of his pocket to hand to me. It promoted a book he had written  a few years back,
about his journey around the world in 1968. I told him that I had gone around the world in 2008, forty years after him,  and had lived in 19 countries. “I visited 27 countries,” he said. I responded, “Wow, you must have been moving fast.”

We ended up trading books. I gave him a signed copy of my award winning book, A Heart Traced In Sand, about the struggle of my daughter Naomi, who died of cancer at the age of nineteen. He promised to send me his book about his travel adventures around the world in 1968.

Dal Lake, Kashmir

Holiday Cheer

It took me sixty years before I experienced being thrown out on the street. Thank God, I can laugh about it. My wife owns a home in White Rock, New Mexico, a community about 35 miles from Santa Fe, where my gallery and studio are located. I do not like living in White Rock, so I have kept a residence in Santa Fe. Traveling is my passion, and I choose not to own a home . . . that would tie me down. I rent places that are furnished, and come and go as I please. Heidi Of The Mountains stays with me one week, and then lives in White Rock the next and I go a couple nights to be with her.

Here is my story, to which I could laugh or cry—but mostly I laugh. A gentleman named Joe had come into my gallery, seeking representation for his photography. He owned a poodle dog, and became acquainted with Heidi, because, at the time, we owned a poodle puppy (since deceased.) The man and his wife had traveled out of the USA, and he called himself an “international” photographer. This fellow brought his wife in to meet us, then invited us to dinner at his house in the foothills of Santa Fe. We dined with them and began to become friends, sharing poodle stories and tales from overseas. I agreed to show the man’s photos for one month. Meanwhile, I had been occasionally sleeping in my studio, since I had a residential lease expire. The gentleman and his wife suggested that, since they had three homes in three different states, and they spent most of their time in Colorado, we could pay a small rent and stay at their home in Santa Fe, for a duration of four to six months. The woman, Sheila, told Heidi, “It is a win-win situation.” Initially, I had a slightly weird feeling about the suggestion, but agreed anyway.

The couple left town, and Heidi and I moved some belongings into the house. Although the home was outside of town, it was quiet and comfortable. Sheila and Joe had said that they might visit us for brief periods occasionally, but that we could remain. We lived at the house for three months with only one visit. Meanwhile, I took Joe’s work out of my gallery because it did not sell, and my own photography was selling. After that, things changed.

Just before Christmas, the homeowners arrived. I had known they were coming for a few days, so had done extra cleaning. Joe seemed less friendly, and I noticed that Sheila berated him when he tracked snow into the house. Heidi and I left after two nights, and went to White Rock. The day before Christmas, we received an Email demanding that we get our belongings out immediately. That would mean that on Christmas day, we were expected to move. Impossible, because we were with Heidi’s family that day, and furthermore, my daughter who I do not see often, had arrived from Chicago. Heidi said that from her experience as an officer of justice, they could not expel us on such short notice. But they did. They took all our belongings and piled them in their driveway, in the snow, covered with a tarp. They sent us an Email as explanation, citing several complaints, including that the kitchen dishes were not in the proper order in the cabinets, that we had clothes strewn around in our bedroom, and that we had tacked a blanket over the large window in our bedroom to block the cold air.

I have found another place to live—a sweet, furnished guesthouse, just a few minutes from my gallery, and close to my studio. Heidi told me she had sent light and love to Sheila and Joe but the message came back unopened. “Did you send them an Email?” I asked. “NO, it was telepathic,” she replied. And so, that is my little story of holiday cheer.

Thank God For Beauty

May the wings of the butterfly kiss the sun
And find your shoulder to light on,
To bring you luck, happiness and riches
Today, tomorrow and beyond.

~Irish Blessing

Lately, I have been waking up from sleep with some anxiety, since my gallery is floundering under the poor economy. Especially difficult is that during the last four months, a large investment was made preparing for and installing a critically popular and well attended show of portraits by twenty-five artists, called HEADS UP—but the sales have been negligent. So I am scrambling to survive.

This morning, I arrived at my gallery to open, and noticed across the street that a garden is in bloom. I took my camera and walked over to take pictures. Right on cue, a beautiful butterfly landed on a flower and opened it’s wings to share with me it’s beauty before it fluttered off, not a care in the world. 

Thank God for beauty.