Enthusiastic Invigilator

Went into the Model + Niland Galleries in Sligo today to look at an exhibition on drawing. Was poking around the galleries and found myself quite confused by the labels, which were so discreetly positioned and at such distances from the works they described as to be a nuisance more than anything else. So I relied on asking the young and enthusiastic woman who was sitting in place "invigilating" (a term I only bumped into when I left the USA) about which piece belonged to which artist. And we got to talking a bit about the show. She was friendly and obviously liked being there among the various art works. She had a few books with her as well; she'd been absorbed in one before I disturbed her. But she didn't seem bothered and seemed to enjoy looking at some of the art with me and offering me her thoughts on it. I love to find friendly people especially in places where we, unfortunately, have come to expect to be treated with disdain--as if we patrons of the place were getting in the way of the serious and superior activities that these employees were really there to do.

So, thank you enthusiastic invigilator!

Over the years, I suppose I've kept a running tally of the genuinely friendly encounters I've had with the people employed to deal with the public in art venues. It is a very, very small number indeed. Nielsen Gallery in Boston was notable for their warm, enthusiastic welcome--at least when I lived in Boston in the late eighties/early nineties. I recently visited Raster Gallery in Warsaw and was treated with kindness and generosity as well. I was offered (and accepted!) a glass of wine to sip as I sat in their "library" and poked around their publications.

When I used to visit the New York City galleries regularly, I'd play a little game with myself and measure the level of snootiness and chill that wafted towards me from those minimalist front desks. Cold, cold, cold with the odd (and welcome) exception. In fact, I wondered if there had been some sort of training course in that special air of frigid reception that these people seemed to have perfected. So unnecessary, so bad for business.

"Would you like me to tell you what this drawing means?" My friendly invigilator asked me this today, early on in our interaction before, I think, she got the sense that I was accustomed to visiting galleries and looking at art. Her intention was helpful, I am sure. I'm also quite sure that she had been advised to offer such a service to the gallery's visitors by her employers. I said that I'd like her to tell me what the drawing meant. And I listened and looked and thanked her when she had finished.

Barbara Falkowska and Zofia Malanowska

Cute Hall had the pleasure of visiting Warsaw last week--to see friends and to look at some art. These two women are both distinguished artists who walk the border territory between the textile and painting disciplines. Barbara Falkowska will have a solo exhibition of her work in Warsaw opening March 1 at the Union of Polish Artists Building (Galeri DAP) on Mazowiecka (near Swietokrsyska metro stop). Her work is singular in Poland and the world. She is well-known in both Poland and abroad. I had the honour of meeting her and studying with her at Haystack in Maine in 1984. The Warsaw show will be a kind of retrospective and is not to be missed if you are in Poland in March. Mrs. Malanowska began her art career in earnest at the age of 70. Now, 91, she is producing some of the most original, unique work I have ever seen. More on it later.