Last night the Westport Arts Center opened its latest exhibition: “Home.” It’s an intriguing collection of paintings and drawings that — pleasantly and darkly, familiarly and abstractly — touch upon more than a dozen artists’ conceptions of home.
So I started thinking of mine.
I wandered through the crowded gallery. I searched for answers. But I couldn’t figure out what “home” meant to me.
Then I stepped outside, onto the patio. I looked across the foggy Saugatuck River, at the bright lights sparkling downtown in defiance of all the bad stuff going on everywhere in the world. And I got it.
“Home” is a place where hundreds of people gather in a small gallery on a Friday night. They enjoy good art, free wine, and the company of very interesting people. They value creativity, they relish ideas, they understand that even — especially — when times are tough, art sustains and nourishes us all.
Home is my town. Our town. Home is this town.
home is an easy one to answer…loeffler field
Westport is my home town and always will be. What a profound influence its townspeople had during the 15 years of growing up there until 1980. Common folk, common places, excellent educators & leaders; people you could count on as mentors and great soccer players too!