When Tiny visited the Treetops Gallery of Art, she expected to see long dark halls of roaming eyes, meandering hills and alabaster cherubs frozen in time. But it wasn’t that way at all. The rooms were airy and filled with light, with a silence that felt almost sacred.
She came upon the Cheney Chapel, the circular space close to the Gallery’s heart. The luminous room left her breathless, with its floor to ceiling paintings causing a storm of dazzling color. One canvas beckoned her closer, swirling and churning as it cast its spell. Tiny slid onto a bench and closed her eyes. She could still see the painting, feel the bursts of hot rain, breathe the steam rising up off the pavement. She could bounce on the ribbons of moving light, and finally she surrendered herself to the Dog Monsoon.
She opened her eyes, she was quite alone. And so Tiny tiptoed out of the Gallery, leaving the trickle of rainwater pooling at her feet.
For our friend Galen, painter of Dog Monsoon