The frames came off the wall Thursday night, and I’m still catching my breath.
This was my second time showing at the Raleigh Pancakes & Booze Art Show. This round looked different than the first. No easel, no live painting — just the finished, hand-painted nature art up on the wall, and me standing next to it. I hung my sunflower painting, a piece inspired by Sarah P. Duke Gardens in Durham, my Jenga art, and a few others alongside them. The show itself is big, bright, and loud by design: [X]+ artists, hundreds of pieces, a room built for spectacle. Hanging everything, I wondered whether quieter, finished work would get lost in a room like that.
It didn’t get lost at all. People stopped first for the sunflower prints — several told me the piece reminded them of a specific summer, or a specific person. The mini paintings pulled a quieter version of the same reaction: people picked them up, turned them over, asked if they came in other sizes. Watching someone pause over something that small told me more than any conversation could. The Jenga art drew its own crowd too, with people circling back to look closer and figure out how I’d put it together.
[This is the spot for any other specific, small moments — a conversation, a stranger’s reaction, something a fellow artist said. Left open for you to add.]
Doing this a second time changed something for me. The first time, I was just trying to survive the night — get through it, hold my ground next to booths ten times louder than mine. This time, I actually got to enjoy it. Returning to a room I’d once been nervous in, and finding it easier, felt steadying in a way I didn’t expect.
Thank you to everyone who came out Thursday and stopped by my wall. And if you’ve been wondering whether quiet, hand-painted nature art has a place in a room built for spectacle — I think the answer is yes, as long as you let it be what it is.
Check the shop for anything that caught your eye. Don’t see it there? Reach out and ask.
Already looking forward to the next one.
— Jewell
