June 16
My mother use to take me to a gallery called Olla Podrida. Artists had studios there and the public could watch them working, sculptors carving or casting molds, painters layering paint on canvases, or potters throwing pots from raw clay. As a child, it seemed all types of artists were represented. It made my heart race to watch what I thought of as masters plying their trade. I think my Mom was happiest there among kindred spirits.
Olla Podrida was an old factory in the downtown area that had been renovated with old timbers salvaged from churches and government buildings being torn down in Mexico. The massive timbers supported the high ceilings in a lattice work of beams. I guess we weren’t the only ones tearing down the old to make way for the new. And as fate would have it, Olla Podrida was torn down several years ago to make way for a high rise office building.
Mom once had a painting hang in Olla Podrida. She dressed us all up to go see her painting there in the gallery in the building’s center. It was the only time she and Dad took us all to a gallery together. Afterwards, Dad took us to a Mexican restaurant to celebrate – chips, salsa and enchiladas. Mom was glowing. She had her day. A day she probably thought would never come.
I was more than a little surprised when a table made of thick planks with a finish as dark as espresso was delivered to my house. The note simply read – Made from beams salvaged from Olla Podrida. Bryan
Why was Bryan sending me anything let alone a table made from the old gallery’s timbers? The gallery that meant so much to me and Mom. The gallery that was so tied up with our childhood.
This must be a peace offering, yes? ❤ ❤ 🙂
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You are insightful. Dee
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Maybe I make a decent guess once in a while. XX
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It may have meant something to him as well.
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Hi John,
I think you’re right. Thanks. Dee
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🙂
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