On Saturday night, I went to a party at some friends’ house. Party might not be the right word. Event. They called it an art night. Basically, they invited a whole mess of people to come and share a piece of art with everyone else. And you had to share. The invite came with an easy out: it didn’t have to be YOUR OWN art. Some people did, in fact, take that route and read poems they loved by more famous poets or showed paintings by artists they knew. There were original songs played live and via iPod. There were paintings in progress. I saw digital art in the style of woodcuts with accompanying theological reflections. One goddess of a person brought extremely artful brownies to move us to another plane entirely. Amazing shirts sewed by one of the hosts awed. I heard a true story about a wildly successful school production that included 300 oompa-loompas (see below), most of whom did not speak English as a first language and had never been in a show before, and if that is not inspiring, you are dead.
I knew no one in the room except my hosts. It didn’t matter. My friends made the magic of community for an evening.
I might not miss football. Not too much, anyway. I’ll be busy trying to make something in case I get invited back.