The best way to describe having a show during the year 2020 with the global pandemic happening is simply quiet. Everything leading up to the day of the opening was nerve-racking. I felt the need to do something, anything to be somehow more prepared. My parents were visiting just to see the new paintings. At the same time my girlfriend Selena’s parents were driving down to see them as well. Everything had to be perfect. I needed everyone to feel comfortable and welcomed, while also keeping them safe. It felt as though everything was up to me. If I didn’t do well, the show would be a disaster.
My veins were pulsing with genuine excitement from the moment I got off work on Friday. Despite fearing social interactions, I enjoyed hosting. It was a situation in which I had control, and most of the time I become very overwhelmed when I lack control. This was different, though, since my focus was primarily on the exhibition. Selena’s parents stayed with us, which luckily drew some of my attention away from the exhibition. I was beginning to overanalyze the situation and think of all the different ways I could improve the show or notify people of its existence. There is only so much advertising you can do to a small crowd of people to tell them what they already know. Still, I could not stop thinking about it.
The morning of the opening came fairly quickly since we were distracted with loud and long conversations the night before. Sleep was almost nonexistent. I laid awake imagining the different scenarios, and any sleep I did get was filled with stressful dreams of the unknown. I woke feeling exhausted, yet I pushed on knowing there was no avoiding the day I had created for myself. I spent too little time getting ready and too much time anxiously waiting for others to be ready.
After having breakfast by the river with both sets of parents, we spent time chatting at home. By half an hour before the gallery opened, which was noon, I was standing by the door watching the minutes change on the microwave. The gallery was only five minutes away, and I knew this. I also knew that people hardly ever show up to a show on time. Nevertheless, I was ready and I wanted to be there just in case someone showed up early. I ended up being the last one out the door on our way to the show. I had forgotten my business cards. And I changed shoes.
At exactly 12:00 PM, I walked in the door to the gallery with Selena only to see the gallery owner, Deret Roberts. He quickly put on his mask and watched us walk into my exhibition space. It truly is a fantastic feeling to see your own artwork hung by itself on clean walls with only a placard of information beside it. It makes everything finally feel real. The best part was seeing the vinyl lettering Roberts had done. “DISEASE” in bold Black Arial font (at least that was what I assumed having worked with the font in the sign shop numerous times) filling the top left corner of the back wall. There was nothing below it save for the barely visible placard next to my painting, making it feel intentional and powerful. Then, in a thinner style, “DYLAN OVERHEIM” placed over an artist statement just to the right of the same painting. It was simple and not overdone, letting the paintings speak over the loud text. It almost made the paintings seem larger than they were. In a single moment I was proud of what I had accomplished there. I joyfully hugged Selena. It was fleeting, but I felt like I was finally becoming something.
A photograph of the painting Disorder, by Dylan Overheim, accompanied by the exhibition title, artist name, and artist statement.
I told Roberts I was impressed with the vinyl work. He also seemed distracted, but was appreciative of the kind word. My parents were the first to enter after Selena and I. They were happy to see the work up. My parents are very supportive, so I was expected as much. It was still nice to talk with them about my process and where I planned to go with my work next. I get a lot of good ideas just from having conversations with them. Next through the door were Selena’s parents. They were both surprised by the scale having only seen the work in photographs online. I enjoyed talking to them as well. I had no expectations of them, so it was nice to hear them pick up on the themes of my work almost instantly. Either I was too heavy handed with my representation, or I successfully presented my ideas. There will always be differing opinions on that one.
It seemed that most people that came through understood the meaning of my work and the paintings Decline and Disorder were crowd-favorites. The third painting, Deliberation, was complimented for the flesh tones, but it seemed hard for people to look at. It was a long four hours after my family left. I ended up meeting a few people from the art community that I didn’t know before. I introduced one to a friend of mine that I thought could be of inspiration, and one showed me another gallery to apply to. A couple of friends dropped by as well to give me their support, which is always welcome. A few people passed through that I was not familiar with but did not want to talk. The time between visitors was excruciating. I stood silently by my work, unsure of what to do with myself. Around the midpoint, I took a break to go home and eat something. It seemed nothing happened in the half hour that I was gone. After the first hour it was all feeling pointless.
Photograph of Selena Vallejos appreciating the painting Decline by Dylan Overheim.
Right about when I was getting up the nerve to say I was going home for the day, one last visitor came in. He seemed to be a regular at Art Obscura. He was right at home here, talking to Roberts in a friendly tone, holding an air of confidence about him. He walked into the exhibition space and immediately greeted me. It was a bit awkward at first. I introduced myself, saying I was the artist, and he said his name was Tyler. He continued looking as I drifted back to the safety of the nearby wall. I watched as he carefully read the artist statement. Once he reached the last painting I decided I should keep the conversation going.
I asked if he was an artist himself. He said no, that he was an art collector. I kept calm, though my heart was racing. I had never met an art collector before, at least not a self-proclaimed one. I asked what kind of work he collected. He said mostly surrealist work, though he also had some traditional Mexican paintings. I thought I might as well push my luck, when would I ever have the chance for this again? I asked what he thought of my paintings, to which he replied that he found it interesting and he liked it. He said it very plainly, but it appeared as a neon sign in my brain. Was I about to make a sale? It would have been the biggest sale of my life.
Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately, I have not seen the real end of his story intertwined with mine yet!), he did not purchase anything that day. He said very little about my work, though he seemed very pleased with it. As he was walking back to the front counter, I nervously drew a card from my back pocket and asked if he would take one. It was an older card that had a nice painting of mine that had nothing to do with my current work on it. But it was still relevant information. He took it and put it in his wallet. As he was leaving he waved at me at my wall of safety and said I had done good work. I said it was nice to meet him.
Shortly after Tyler left, I thanked Roberts and also left. The opening was done and I was physically, mentally, and emotionally drained. I hardly recall the rest of the day. My eyes were bloodshot a deeper red than I had seen in a long time. It worried Selena a bit. As I floated through the evening I remember feeling pleased with the day despite the exhaustion. I put myself through immense stress, and though it was not necessary, it felt like I had accomplished a great deal.
I think this will get easier. I loved it and I hated it. I realize now that a lot of my stress was unnecessary, so hopefully I can figure out how to relax a bit more. A large part of my stress was with the pandemic. Everyone wore masks, but I know a lot of people that were discouraged by the risk of infection. I enjoyed seeing the people that came, but I was nervous about inviting so many people to a social gathering. Though everything was done with the right precautions, it was still scary. An opening should be a victory, not a trial. I hope to do it again soon, and hopefully there will be less fear of meeting people or getting sick!