A place to be

Black Mountain, watercolor by Brian D. Cohen

Brian’s voice over the phone this morning was solid, secure. As we spoke about his legacy book, I listened hard, searching for what must be there: Whispers of fear. Waves of anger. Wells of sadness. Instead, Brian spoke with the strength of an oak tree, his words supple and fluid like the tree’s branches, responding to the breeze. We discussed project deliverables, desired outcomes, publishing timelines, budgets …

And milestones that must be achieved, quickly.

During our call, I told Brian about an encounter a few days earlier, a story that I felt compelled to share.

My shift at the gallery on that particular day was dead quiet. As the afternoon persisted, I thought, maybe I need to change the energy. So I unpacked one of Brian’s framed prints and jammed it into the bin holding his unframed work. At that moment, I felt the air open up around me and release itself into lightness. Then, a customer walked in, made a 180 degree turn toward Brian’s bin, and reached for his framed print.

She said, “I’d like this one.”

At the other end of the phone, the split second of Brian’s silence melted into eternity.

Finally, he spoke.

This time, his voice was raspy and heavy, hovering at the edge of a cliff.

He said, “I am glad to know that my art, some of it, anyway, is finding a place to be. I just don’t want boxes of the work I’ve spent my life creating sealed up, stored in a dark closet, forgotten, collecting dust.”