(Continued from Part One)

Did I finish everything I set out to make? Almost.

As always, new ideas popped up. I needed to fill a whole shipping container, my makeshift community gallery, so I added more. A Carville diorama. A photo series on the Farallon Islands. A bunch of my cardboard automata mockups. Plus, the sketches and drawings I used to plan everything. I love showing people my process.

The opening was electric. Friends showed up. Neighbors and local artists came too. The energy was unreal. I said it felt like winning my own personal Super Bowl.

That high came crashing down the next week. I arrived at the gallery and saw a mess. Someone had broken in. My heart sank. But nothing was stolen. Turns out some kids climbed in through the skylight. Probably a dare. Just hung out. I put everything back in place and let it go.

The show kept rolling. I ran workshops on kinetic art. Gave a talk on the creative process. And of course led a butterfly automata session—the project that got me the residency in the first place.

Then came the interview. Becky Lee from The Richmond Review stopped by. She wrote a fantastic piece on the show. Captured the feeling of being there.

Closing night was bittersweet. Proud of what I built. Relieved it was over. A big project. A real audience. Totally worth it.

But the best part? The people. I made so many new friends. That’s priceless. And looking back, I feel incredibly lucky. Three weeks later, the world shut down for the pandemic. Playland at 43rd eventually reopened, but only for a short time before plans for redevelopment moved forward. It’s now a housing complex: Shirley Chisholm Village.

I didn’t know it at the time, but I was the last artist in residence. I got to be part of something special before it was gone. That’s a gift.