We made a couple dandy art finds lately. They’re both well within OYB thrift standards, too.
Sue Bullock is a family friend who lives in the Leelenaw Peninsula and paints what she sees around her beautiful neighborhood. Unbeknownst to us, she recently turned to oils and when we saw her work a few months ago it was a great treat. Wonderfully, she’s only charging $75-200. We won’t be able to afford her for long. Her influences are the Group of Seven from the Deco period in Canada, along with Russell Chatham and Rockwell Kent. She’s currently being sold at a gallery in downtown Empire, MI, just south of the Traverse City area—can’t miss it, it’s the only gallery, I think.
Jerry Geordie is a folk artist who lives in Empire. I have mangled his name beyond recognition, but his yardful of art is up against the dunes a couple blocks south of the main street in that tiny town. Can’t miss it. He and his wife are fine folks and great characters who are often in the garage doing their art and are happy to chat. We love his styles, colors…and prices. The 3-foot-long Alien Ant was only $30. (His 5-foot-tall Alien Praying Mantises are a bit more.)
The story of how we bought our paintings is a funny one, so here goes…
We were recently tenting up north while Martha was running her LazyGal art booth at Suttons Bay. She and her friend sold great and the trip was winding down. And it was Martha’s birthday. My biking pal and I had been watching the kids during the fair-days. He and I were given shore-leave to go on a ride in the gorgeous Leelenaw. We told everyone we’d be gone an hour or so. We were deliberately vague but we totally misjudged our hot, hilly 14-mile route.
The idea was to buy art for our wives. Martha and I really like Sue’s work, but in the business of the fair, she had never mentioned her. I knew that a sneak purchase would be a big hit. My pal had never seen her work but was wanting to get his wife a congratulations present. Neither of us knew if the artist was at her studio/home, but she’s hermitish, so my hunch was we should go for it. We finally got there and sure enough our artist was home so we bought some GREAT art. I bought two small oils and my friend got a medium. The cool thing was they all fit into my Carradice saddlebag (straps at max). Then we started slugging our way back to the campsite.
We were 2 hours late. As we got close to the campground, my pal refused to take the lead even when I faked a chain derailment. Still, we had discussed that we held the most powerful hand that derelict biker husbands of art-ladies can hold. He said that my art idea was great. Aw, shucks. …But also that we were in for it.
When we arrived the 3 art-booth families were all packed, and folding chairs were out in the blazing sun with little kids in them. They were doing the martyrdom self-immolation routine for maximum blame on wicked dads. We had been desperately hoping that everyone was in the shade or that they had abandoned us for a beach and left a note. No, they were storing up vast amounts of pain and anger, which they promptly vented.
We tried to deflect the blasts to no avail. After a couple minutes I blurted out: “We brought presents! We have surprises!” The ladies said “Huh? Where?”—scowling, unbelieving. We’d thrown a monkey-wrench into their rage. We pulled out 3 lovely pieces of art from a place where ladies don’t expect it. “Oh my gosh! WOW!” It turned everything around. We got hugs. “You guys just totally saved your asses.” Whew, that was close.
