I do a project here, a project there. I send an email to this person, and to that person. I dig, I plow, I plant, I hope. A few years can go by in this manner. And some days, you pause and contemplate the broad arc, and wonder.

And then, I watch some of the dots connect. My brother in law, Joe Larmor, together with my father in law, Dever Larmor, designed and built the most amazing painting studio. Hard work, spread out over months and months, and the final result is stunning. They recently built these beautiful, translucent walls around my studio. The walls slide in a channel, to allow for me to expand my studio space when I put on lectures and musical concerts. Classes are filled, models are booked, dozens of blank, linen canvases are awaiting my brushes.

A week ago, I went into a high fallutin’ gallery opening in NYC, to see if I might meet Michael Findlay. (He’s the art world guru/author that spoke on the NPR program, a few blogs back.) Michael Findlay directs one of the most prestigious galleries in the world, he’s sold paintings for eyebrow raising prices, enough to repeatedly gain the attention of New York Times. But, best of all, I’ve read that he’s nice. Michael doesn’t at all exhibit or collect paintings that are in my genre, and so I wasn’t going so much to seek his representation. But, I simply wanted to meet him personally. In the middle of this show with multimillion dollar paintings all about, I wormed my way between incredibly intimidating glitterati, and sheepishly said “Hey Michael, you may not remember me, but I’m the fellow who shows paintings on the street, in Washington Square, and you spoke about…” and Michael cut me off with a wide smile. “Kevin McEvoy! Of course, you must meet the others in the room. Everyone, this is a very talented young man, Kevin McEvoy, and he did this one painting of inmates in a jail, a very compelling piece. He’s a very interesting young man. Kevin, how may I help you?” “Umm, Michael, I have my painting hanging up at a gallery above Columbus Circle, on Central Park West, this coming November. Do you think you might come to see it, in person?” “Kevin, here is my card. Send me the info. I would really like to come. Please email me the info.”

I emailed him. He wrote back. It looks like he’s coming.

And people are steadily commissioning work. And somebody calls from Missouri, to commission a work, and somebody calls from Los Altos, California, and sends a check for a still life commission.

And though there are dry spells, and though big commissions will at times fall through, and though I sometimes scratch my head and wonder… it’s a joy to wake up this morning, and to walk in my studio, and to see the dots connect.


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