Coming Full Circle

Tonight at Jag Gallery, I’ll step away—momentarily—from the comfort and protection that the Coast brand has afforded me through the hundreds of creative projects that have been schemed, designed, brought to life, and thrown to the world from its studios on Stock Island and Bahama Village over more than a decade. And, for the first time, I’ll unveil a gallery exhibition of my recent paintings in a space that, for once, is not my own. This is thanks to the support of Letty Nowak and Chas Hickey (of Jag Gallery)—who had expressed interest in my work and offered me a season-opening exhibition slot a couple of months ago—as well as the quiet motivation and inspiration that John Martini has given me over the past few years at the big blue studio on Emma Street.

It may sound far-fetched, but the seeds for this collaboration were sown back in my earliest days on the island, and the roots have been growing ever since.

And so, the opening on Saturday feels like a full circle moment—a full quarter century in the making.

The story goes that Letty was one of my first good friends in Key West back in the early 2000s. We first met when she knocked on my door to drop off an invite to her own gallery exhibition back in 2003 or so? Back then, we were half the age we are today. I lived on Thomas Street in Bahama Village, and she owned a little gallery called The Lemonade Stand a half a block down, right across from Blue Heaven.

Out of my element, but pretty interested in the fact that a girl in her early-20s owned a gallery and was a full time artist, I stopped by the reception later that night with my rowdy crew in tow. I remember we all bought Lemonade Stand t-shirts (and drank free beers) to support the cause, and after that night, my buddies, along with Letty and Sharon McGauley—who co-owned the gallery—became something of a neighborhood art gang in Bahama Village.

In the years that followed, I spent a lot of time at that little gallery—hijacking a space on the semi-enclosed porch to make skateboards. That’s also where I also taught myself to screen print shirts for my little project called Village Board Designs. As a trade, I helped Letty and Sharon hang their gallery shows, built canvas stretchers, framed paintings when pieces sold, and attended workshops that they used to host in the studio.

I also remember, very clearly, that we would all secretly admire John Martini, whose famous studio—the big blue one on Emma—was just one block down the street. He’d pass by often on a vintage Vespa and would stop in here and there for a chat. For us young creatives, John kind of embodied the dream—an artist who had made it. He had a huge warehouse studio in the neighborhood, a second one in France, and he owned his own gallery called Lucky Street that always had packed openings and red dots all over the walls.

I’ve stayed in pretty close touch with Letty and Sharon over the decades even as we all moved around the world, had kids, and branched out into other business ventures of our own. But it’s been art that always connected us—and it still does.

More recently—in the past five years or so—I’ve gotten to know John Martini as both a close friend and a frequent collaborator.

The four of us all now show our work at Jag Gallery, which I think Letty considers The Lemonade Stand 2.0—her more grown-up contemporary gallery on Duval.

But it did really all start in Bahama Village some 25 years ago, and here we are today.

The work I’m showing for this exhibition is the result of three years of reacquainting myself with painting as a form of personal expression—and lots of trial and error. I loved the process and am quite happy with the work, so I’d love for anyone who’s in town to have a look on Saturday from 5:30 to 7:30pm. I will say that the paintings feel more alive in person and much bigger, too— the texture and scale didn’t really translate to any of my photos. If you’d like to chat about the work, please grab me at the opening or, better yet, come to my artist talk on October 15 at the gallery.

Thanks!