Last night I went to an art show for one of my friends. I met her a few years back at the St. Pete Times, where I work as a news artist and she works in copy services. I got to know her a bit after a few trips to the coffee shop and she started to show me some of her artwork. I was amazed at the raw talent this young lady had. She's a photographer, and she has a great eye. The problem is that she just lacks a bit of confidence in her work.
For some strange reason she began to ask me for direction and help. Me, a cartoonist? I thought it was odd, but I'm always down with helping young artists. She started to talk to me about lots of things: art, future goals, and even advice about 'boys.'. Suddenly I felt like an artistic father figure. Weird. It has been great to see her compositions evolve in the last few years, culminating in last night's art show. Out of several hundred artists in the competition, she go an honorable mention. Not bad.
Her parents were there, her friends were there. I lingered in the back somewhere next to the bohemians. It was nice to just pat her on the back and say 'good job, kid.'
Now, I don't have any kids (unless you count my dog Cory) but I guess I got a taste of it last night. My friends with kids always like to wax poetic about the wonders of fatherhood (I'm talking to you Rick). It was just great to see a young artist shine for one night.