Reflections on the Outdoor Art Show

Reflections on the Outdoor Art Show

I can hardly believe that the outdoor art show has already come and gone. Between teaching, preparing for the show, selling my paintings, and talking with visitors, it was an incredibly busy time. Yet, regardless of how much or how little I earn, I always treasure these moments deeply.

This year, I went into the show with no expectations for profit. The economy hasn’t been strong, and booth fees have risen quite a bit. My simple hope was to at least cover my booth expenses. But to my surprise and gratitude, many art lovers purchased my work—and thanks to them, I was able to finish the season feeling fulfilled and successful. To everyone who brought my art into their lives, I sincerely wish you luck, happiness, and peace. And to those who stopped by, left kind comments, or simply shared a moment of appreciation—thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Whenever I sell a painting, I often think about what that small piece of paper really means. Could it possibly be worth more than the clothes someone wanted to buy, or a gift for a loved one, or even something practical like an iPhone or a computer? I truly hope my paintings bring something precious—like a jewel—to someone’s home. And I believe they do. I paint with the belief that my art has the power to offer warmth, peace, and inspiration.

In times like these, when the cost of living is high and uncertainty is everywhere, I understand how hard it can be to make a living—especially as an artist. That’s why I never take a single purchase or word of encouragement for granted. I know what it means to support art, and I know how meaningful that act can be.

There were three art lovers I especially remember from this year’s show. One had bought a dove painting from me last year and came back to tell me how much she still loved it. Another had seen my koi fish painting at the Port Jefferson Gallery, taken a photo of it, and returned this year to ask, “Are you the artist who painted this?” before purchasing it. The third remembered a piece from last year’s Wet Paint Festival and asked if it was still available. Encounters like these move me deeply—they remind me that my paintings have a life beyond my hands, living in people’s memories. I am so grateful for that.

More than anything, I want people to remember my paintings even if they don’t remember me. I hope to keep meeting those who truly love art and to continue growing through these connections. Every exhibition, every outdoor show, teaches me again why participating is so meaningful.

I’ve always thought of a painting as a window—a window that allows others to see beyond, into another world. Through that window, I want to share energy, light, and a sense of life. That energy is what makes a painting come alive, what makes it feel as though it’s breathing or speaking to the viewer. When someone tells me that my work feels “alive,” I feel immense pride, because that’s exactly what I hope to convey.
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At the same time, I want my art to feel approachable—warm, friendly, and comforting, like a good neighbor or a close friend. As I move on to prepare for my next exhibition, I find myself reflecting on all of this. Each show leaves me both humbled and inspired. No matter the challenges, I’ll keep painting—because art, at its heart, is about sharing life’s quiet beauty, one brushstroke at a time.

With my artlover!

A heartfelt reflection on the recent outdoor art show—its challenges, joys, and the enduring connection between artist and audience.