Vignette 10
The Committee of Four
The Red Shed is a funky little art’s collective in Palm Beach. Some people claim that it is the oldest structure on the island. It is so old and shoddily put to together I find it amazing that it is still standing. Corrugated Iron is the main ingredient in the Shed’s architecture, the little rooms that have been added on with a multitude of different materials, leaves you with the impression of being in a rabbit warren. Over the years different people have staked their claim on the Red Shed, yet it has changed very little since it officially became a place for emerging artists to display their work.
Artists have come and gone over the years, achieving success and taking their art further afield, or possibly deciding that art was not in the cards for them after all. The Red Shed is an important piece of my art history. I grew my art there, and made friends with other island artists who were struggling with the same artistic growing pains as me. We loved to sit on rickety benches in the back courtyard with a glass of wine in hand, discussing all manner of making art; probably the same topics famous artists have talked about through the ages.
The Shed is a safe haven with mercurial boundaries. There is a structure for artists who want to be part of monthly group exhibitions, as well as open ended solo venues of your own creation. I have taken advantage of both over the last six years. When I joined the committee, I did so in order to give back. There comes a time when we must all consider showing our appreciation for the bounties bestowed upon our lives, by giving back in some small way. Little did I realize that by becoming involved with a committee whose purpose was to carry on the legacy of the Red Shed Art’s Collective, I would find three life long friends along the way. There were other people on the committee, but we four women developed a special supportive love for one another that I am grateful for every single day. I can honestly say that Jae, Mary and Sarah are the Kiwi jewels in my crown. Their belief in me has bolstered my confidence enough to take artful risks, to think big, and most importantly: not to succumb to the dreaded lone ranger syndrome. Spending too much time alone in your studio leaves you creating art in a vaccum.
Our favorite place to have meetings and coffee is the Lazy Lounge. Funny that we have gravitated towards the LL, because it has the same rabbit warren attributes as the Red Shed. It is very importantly, kid friendly, so before Jae and Sarah’s youngest daughters started school, they could bring them along and set them free to play while we held court.
They quickly got to know us at the Lazy Lounge.
“Shall I put this on the Red Shed tab?” the barista would ask.
Mary often grabbed the table outside in the sunshine. (Mary is something of a sun worshipper.) We customarily dropped out bags, and then went directly up to order our coffee and muffin. Ordering coffee in NZ requires having some Kiwi language skills. There’s a long black and a flat white, translated; short Expresso and Expresso with lots of milk. I habitually order a long black with hot water on the side. Sounds kind of Harry met Sallyish doesn’t it? Our table usually ends up crammed full of cups, saucers and muffin plates stacked all over the place. The LL is very homey and comfortable. Places like the Lazy Lounge are perfect for a community like Waiheke, because it is local’s oriented, and lulls you into a hippy atmosphere of Waiheke past.
Jae often picks me up, so we can drive together to our little soirée. We gossip like magpies the whole way across the island and make the most out of coming all this way by fitting in a million chores to and from Orapiu. Sarah always comes swooping in to the LL, throwing hugs all around, and it is always a kick to see what Mary will have on. She has great style in the way she dresses; beautiful colors and layers; looking like a true artist. Then, after all the flurry of getting coffee and ourselves properly settled, the stories begin to unfold. Our meetings have become more than meetings, they have evolved into an incredible community of friends who happen to be full time artists. Someone inevitably starts it all off.
“I am ready to pull my hair out,” Sarah says.
“Have you been Lizzied?” Jae asks.
This exchange has to do with one of the long time red shedders who is particularly challenging. Lizzie is an artist in the eccentric sense of the word, and marches to beat of her own drummer. Lizzie is up there in age, and uses a polished fragile little old lady routine to get away with murder. Not really murder, but boy is she a handful for a committee who doesn’t have the heart to stand up to anyone with a tale of woe. Lizzie rents a studio from the Red Shed. She pays her monthly rent in very creative ways; frustrating ways, if you happen to be the person who does the bookkeeping. That person happened to Sarah. She has a routine of picking up the sales book on Mondays and completes the banking and artist payments over the course of the week.
“Listen to what Lizzie wrote in the sales book this week,” Sarah says.
We all lean towards Sarah cocking our ears in her direction.
“Sarah darling, I have put $20.00 cash towards my rent, $15.00 from a lady who bought one of my paintings, $5.00 donation to the Red Shed on the ATM card and borrowed $30.00 to pay Kelley a down payment for a painting of hers that I really want. Thank you so much Lovely Sarah.”
“Yep, you got Lizzied,” Jae says.
“What are we going to do with her?” Mary sighs.
“Remember the time that she ran an ad for the letterbox competition before asking us, and we had already booked an exhibition for the same dates,” I mention.
Laughter flows around the table like wildfire. After that, we run quickly through some of the better Lizzie stories, and marvel at how long the list has gotten over the past two years that we have been on the committee. We do love Lizzie though. She is always upbeat and full of energy. Her paintings are incredible and definitely one of a kind. The sale of her paintings has kept the Red Shed afloat over the years.
Then Mary says in a sing song voice, “at least Lizzie isn’t as bad as Helen.”
“Remember that time Helen stopped the membership meeting to tell everyone, “from now on I don’t want to be interrupted as I show you my artwork.” Mary quotes Helen in a very authoritarian sounding voice.
We have had our share of eccentric members, who often pushed us to the limit of our “ hey, remember, we are doing this committee work for free” patience. But this is what the Lazy Lounge was made for: giving us a chance to laugh about the audacity and eccentricity of the red shed membership: of which we were the steering group.
After recapping Helen and her forceful personality, we had to discuss the latest member who joined one week and was given a solo exhibition two weeks later. We still don’t understand how that happened, but never mind. He gave each one of us the creeps. He started by calling me at home about every little detail regarding his upcoming exhibition, and boy was he a hard one to communicate with. He made his wife make the call and then through her would ask me questions. I finally made her put him on the phone and he yelled at me, as if he was blowing a mental fuse. Our committee was forced to become a jury, to deal with wacky member behavior.
Naturally, with my luck, he got a job at Woolworths and for several excruciating months, (until he got fired), he was assigned to stocking the wine section at precisely the same time that I was did my weekly shopping. Anyone who knows me would tell you that I rarely skip the wine section at Woolworths. I smiled politely when cornered in the chardonnay aisle and luckily, he never spoke, but this got to be a regular topic at our Lazy Lounge coffees.
“You will never guess who I ran into at Woolies,” I would say.
“In the wine section again?” they asked.
“Yes, and he scuttled away like a crab when he saw me,” I told them.
In the next installment, he got a job at the gas station. I changed gas stations (there are only three on the island) so I could avoid him. He got sacked there as well, for some reason or another, so we all agreed that it was a relief that I could now pull in for gas without looking over my shoulder.
“It was worse in when he was in charge of the wine department,” I said.
One of the hardest things we had to deal with as a committee was occasionally needing to make a judgment about a member’s work not being up to a standard for hanging.
“I stopped by the shed yesterday and a few people have dropped off their work for “The Great Outdoors” show this weekend,” Jae says.
We are immediately abuzz with, “Are they any good?” “More importantly, are any of them crap?”
There was one instance when a member brought in a piece of art that tested our skills in diplomacy. This said work of art had saran wrap glued loosely onto part of the painting and was sticking out over the edges. I definitely remember there was lots of glitter involved. This conglomeration was mounted on a board without a way to hang it on the wall.
When we had taken a long hard look at it from many different angles I said, “I vote that it doesn’t go next to my work, I think it goes really well next to yours Jae.”
“Not on your life mate,” Jae said.
Jae tantalized us further by saying, “you will have to wait until tomorrow when we hang the show to see what the members have come up with.”
“If we don’t have enough good work for the show, the roster ogre can start calling members,” I suggest.
Mary has been dubbed the “Roster Ogre,” because she had to regularly call members on the phone and persuade them to sign up for a four hour gallery minding shift each month. Mary does not have time for people who don’t pull their weight around the shed, and she is the only one of us who will stand up and say it to a member face to face. You can imagine how she got along with Helen.
There were members who we never saw in person, but who dropped off their art or jewelry, like thieves in the night. One of these members actually set up a big display of handmade jewelry, right in the middle of the small gallery where Jae was having a solo show. We also had our share of prima donnas; members who took down another members painting off the wall and put up their own in its place.
“But what did you do about that email from what’s her name?” Sarah asked.
Over the past two years our committee had received numerous, threatening sounding emails that remind me of people Jerry Springer might have on his show. Jae was on the receiving end of the most recent tirade; from a member who was insulted that her painting had been placed in the loo until she could stop by and pick it up. Jae and I had been anxious to hang our side by side solo exhibitions and had carefully taken down this member’s show. We both suffered a verbal lashing about how culturally insensitive we were.
“I wrote her back twice and now I am over it,” said Jae.
It was rather sad when the four of us decided to stand down from the “committee,” a few months ago, but we all knew that it was time for us to try our own wings and put our energy into our own art.
And guess what? We still have our committee meetings; even though there is nothing to be a committee about. But hold on a minute. It was a shame that all this good experience gained from the Red Shed wouldn’t be put to further good use so I approached three adjoining newly opened businesses, with a proposal for a group exhibition throughout all three spaces. The exhibition will be held at the tail end of winter, when the community needs to be reminded; warmer times are close at hand. The proposal was accepted and now our committee has blossomed into four Ripe Women who still look for any excuse to have a riotous planning meeting at the Lazy Lounge. “Will this go on the Ripe account?” the barrister asks. Our exhibition after all is titled, Ripe. Just like us.
