Juried Art Show 2016
Art-Inspired Stories Project
This is the 20th Anniversary year of Proctor Arts Fest. This
year's Juried Art Show and Art Inspired Stories Project are dedicated to the
man who worked quietly behind the scenes for two decades, and whose vision of
the arts in the Proctor District are reflected in the vibrancy of this annual
celebration.
Thank you Gene Kester for
your stewardship, your dedication, and your vision.
One Man's Garden
by Judith Cullen
To Gene Kester
The wise gardener
knows the richness of inspired soil,
when to quench the eager
thirsts of growth,
when to submit to the
invigorating touch of the sun.
He toils
compassionately among his rows, planting, tending,
a gentle influence over
decades of potentialities.
The warm touch and
twinkling presence is ever patient.
The vibrant mind,
full of constant imaginative ideas,
always sees the
garden in its fullest, most vibrant splendor
despite the cycling realities
of decay and winter's rest.
His spade and trowel
work on: encouraging, persuading,
gently assessing that
which would remain in the safety of seed,
and seeks out just
the right spot to plant for prosperity.
This man's garden
shall never be fallow, fade or wither,
remaining a testament
to one soul's stewardship and scope:
vivid color, dynamic
shape reflecting the ardor of his vision
For he has planted to
a design which conforms to the eternal,
and cherished it with
the blessing of every God-given gift
that one hand, and one
heart can hold in everlastingness.
**********
Pieces Selected for Presentation
Note: All Stories are
© 2016 by Judith Cullen
Use of any of the
photo images on this page without the express permission
of the individual
artists is strictly prohibited
{LOCATED IN THE
FOYER}
Aunt Ruthie
 |
| Image copyrighted by the Artist |
by Janette Stiles, Graphite on Paper
Is this really her?
The undulating gleam of calculated waves. The precise manicure and intense perfection
of rouge and liner. Determined lips
reflect a polished, fell sensuality belying the softness of fur.
I question what I remember - what I choose to remember:
impossibly good cookies whose recipe was never revealed, dizzy songs sung in
the car that can never be forgotten, secret assaults on household furnishings
that I was sworn never to disclose to my Mother.
That is the aunt I remember. That is the complex formula of
imperfections that branded me with its eternal acceptance, and unquestioned
love.
