Mark’s Score 9.4
One of the joys of travel is the unexpected, unplanned gem. In fact, it is the unplanned event or place that is usually the most memorable. One such unexpected gem is My Little Studio. I had a routine checkup with my doctor in Annapolis. While I was up that way, I had planned to stop at Amalfi Coast in Stevensville for lunch. After lunch I still had a half hour to kill and I saw the sign for the Studio across the street, so I decided to take a look.
My Little Studio is owned by Joan McWilliams. Joan opened the studio in 1996 to sell her own artwork. In 2008 she expanded her operation, moving into a storefront in the center of Stevensville. She than began renting workspace to other artists, giving them a place to create as well as sell their work.
It was a cold blustery day in February and a warm gallery seemed just the place to spend a half hour. To be honest, there were a number of nice pieces in the main gallery, and though it was enjoyable the gallery didn’t immediately seem special to me. Joan asked if I needed any help and I explained I was just getting in out of the cold. We talked about a few of the pieces in the main gallery and she informed me that there was more “in the back.” Having time on my hands, I decided to wander around back.
“The back” is actually a series of adjoining rooms, each chock-a-block with various pieces of art. I rounded a corner into a hallway and immediately to my left was one of the work studios where a woman was painting. I didn’t want to disturb her so I started to move on when she said, “no, come on in, have a look.”
The artist was Susan Eleazer, she paints in oils, acrylics, water colors. The day I ran into her, she was painting a beach scene, in oil on canvas. We talked about this painting briefly but our discussion turned to a completed painting hanging in the corner of the room. It was predominantly green and it was very active, with swirling brush strokes around a calm inner core. I asked her what it represented and she told me she was thinking of the Garden of Good and Evil when she painted it. I gazed on it for a while and I said, “I see a tree whose branches embrace the garden, is that significant?” She let out a little chuckle and she explained that the painting had started out as a tree but she changed the theme and reworked the painting. She asked me what I thought, and I said, ‘it looks ephemeral to me.” A pensive look crossed her face and she said “I like that, yes ephemeral.”
By now, I had eaten up my half hour and I had to run. But I enjoyed my serendipitous private viewing and interview with a working artist.
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