I grew up in a family where art was treated as one of the things that makes life worth living. My parents were not artists and would not count themselves as “creative” in the traditional sense. Yet, art was a cornerstone of my education. Paul and Nancy understood the theoretical, but it was my Godmother, Auntie Maricel, who taught me about the creation. Color, design, emotion, and media were all discussed in her garage/studio when I was little. Even though I picked the strategist path, I understand art direction because of her.

Tonight, to procrastinate packing, I called Maricel to see if she was home. She told me to come over immediately. When I pulled up, what do I see but my most magnificent Godmother painting Botticelli’s “Birth of Venus” on her Volkswagen Bus.

She sat on the ground and I promptly joined. We chatted about the upcoming weeks. She asked my opinion on what she should add to the car next. We talked color pairings, recent poetry finds, and the things I’m most looking forward to seeing on the trip. As the sun disappeared into dusk, Maricel continued to confidently paint. I asked if she needed a light to continue. Auntie laughed, “Where’s the fun in being able to see exactly what you’re doing? That’s half the joy of making.”

You may be wondering: what does this have to do with New York? Well, kind blog post reader, if anything it was a good reminder that the act of making can be simple and invigorating and messy. On a greater (semi-pretentious) moment of metaphor, it’s a note that some of the most important things we’ll bring with us on this trip are not tangible. We’ve packed our bags and created massive itineraries, but nothing has made us so ready to take on the city as talks at night about art and life.

Emma Pindell, 5.4.2017.