Recently I found out that, my friend Jackie and her sister Judy opened the Teal Gallery & Events at 42 Oak Street in Roswell, Georgia.
A few days ago, on a hunt for informative photographs for our website, www.OneMetroPlace.com, I pulled up by the gallery and almost fell looking through what I thought was a window, but turned out to be a fully opened garage door.
Jackie and Judie were on a ladder propped by the wall hanging up paintings.
“Look who’s here!” we hugged.
“Teal Art Gallery?”
“Can you believe it?” Jackie made a circle with an outstretched arm.
“May I ask? Why Teal Gallery?”
“Remember The Blue-Winged Teal?”
“The color under the wing.” Jackie added.
I walked around, snapped pictures of paintings, asked questions about the artists, wondered about the origins of the carved red coral adorning the encased jewelry, and pretended that no worm is screwing holes in my brain.
The Blue Winged Teal. Must be a short story.
Soon I had photographed every painting, but could not focus on the art, other than of course Melvin Toledo’s still life.
I am a sucker for still life.
I praised the gallery vaguely, and left--my mind was preoccupied with the Blue-Winged Teal. On my way back to the office, I stopped by the Roswell library and picked a copy of Wallace Stegner’s short story collection, The City of the Living and read the Blue-Winged Teal quickly in the car. I remembered now. The cobalt blue tucked under the wing, shielded from the unobservant, inexperienced, uninitiated. The image of the wing itself, packed with memories, love, beauty and sadness. I needed to go back to the gallery and search for my blue-wing teal wing.
A few days later, back at the Teal, I lingered by the sensuous sadness of Tom Potocki’s Marilyn Monroe.
Paused by David Ryden’s wide eyed Giraffe, and wondered, if after James, Kevin Bate’s next project would be a portrait of Steve Jobs.
I reminisced about my short infatuation with pottery, and then suddenly stopped speechless.
“I found it; it is Somewhere Else. It is Gilleland.”
“You found what?” Jackie stared.
“My blue-winged teal wing.”
Now we, Roswellians, have an Art Gallery with strong literary overtones and I love it.