A Trip Down Inspiration Lane with Kiersten Kintner

On the second Saturday of every month, a quiet Art Center near the Mendocino Community High School comes to life, welcoming many people through its doors. Inside is an arrangement of glorious art pieces up for all people’s buying and viewing pleasures. I entered through the glass door on the second Saturday of February 2019. It was free admission, plus looking at other people’s art tends to be rather helpful for inspiration as long as you look at it with the right lense, so I figured why not put in a little extra effort for this article and actually visit the place I was encouraged to write about. Upon entry, two women standing behind the desk waved and chirped their greetings in pleasant voices. I greeted them in return, though my attention was elsewhere. In the room ahead were the centerpieces of the event, Howard Wheatley Allen’s bronze birds and Rosemary Allen’s Construction Workers oil on canvas series. The earthy tones were quite lovely, and so it was hard to not walk into the room and begin studying them.

Despite the beginning excitement, not much occured for the first hour of the night; I walked around and looked at the varying art styles, considered attempting to snag a bit of wine when I stumbled into the food room by accident, and eventually made my way back around for a second rotation. I was more watchful this time around, and one piece in particular took hold and made me finally stop to truly acknowledge it. Personally, I adore unique art, and the piece that caught me was something I hadn’t witnessed beforehand in my first run through. It was called “Albi by the Tarn River, France”; it was very smooth and almost appeared painted. There were no harsh details like a photo would have, nor were there really any blemishes, and certain parts of the piece seemed outlined. As I admired the photo, the creator, Rita Crane, approached me and asked me to critique her photo. I explained my confusion to her, how it couldn’t possibly be a photo; surely she had done something to it to make it appear so lovely and fluent, and she smiled. She went on to explain what she had done to make it appear the way it did: “I used photoshop. There’s this filter I love using, it makes the edges purple and the middle yellow. It’s like an overlay. I use it on a lot of photos.” It was faint, but the filter was apparent now that I looked closer. She also mentioned another filter called “Ninja,” used to add a vintage tone to the photo.

After that, I assumed that we would part ways, but instead she offered to give me a quick tour of more of her pieces. I happily complied, for there wasn’t much I could actually do to entertain myself beside take a third stroll through the whole gallery. It felt as though I were a child at a family reunion, except I was alone, surrounded by strangers with no blood relation, and had no adult to cling onto. Taking me toward an island table in the middle of the room, she pointed out several more of her pieces, most all of them from France or Italy. There was one specific one that struck me again. Titled “Early Spring at the Giardino dei Semplici, Florence,” the photo depicted a tree blooming white flowers overlayed at a high saturation and a luminosity around the higher up blossoms. Upon further inquiry from me about filters, she answered, “I used the same purple and yellow filter, but I did a little sprucing up around the flowers to really make them glow. The flowers toward the bottom of the tree are what they look like without the editing.” Her and I journeyed together for a while longer before parting ways.

Over the next 20 minutes I attempted to find the main features of the night, the Allens, but had no luck. Before going to The Art Center, I had gathered limited knowledge on it, let alone the event. I was essentially going into this dry and hoping for the absolute best result: making a beautiful baby for journalism. One thing I lacked awareness on was what the artists looked like. I could recognize their pieces easily, but finding them in this crowd of tall people chattering and socializing, coupled with my crippling social anxiety, was actually turning out to be a lot harder than anticipated. Whilst reading Howard Wheatley Allen’s short biography by one of his bronze bird pieces, an older man startled me. He and I talked for a few minutes, and in that time I managed to gather three things: one, he was a regular who was well versed in his knowledge of the artists; two, he couldn’t hear me very well; and three, I lack an ability to talk to strangers past a certain point. Our encounter ended with an awkward “yeeeeeeeeaaaaah…,” which allowed me to finish my reading on Allen. His bird statues held political influence and thus were often given to the leaders of other countries as a symbol of peace.

Another 20 minutes went by and I found my next interview with a woman a bit shorter than me named Sandy Oppenheimer. Her main style for art is, in the grossest simplification, textured paper collages. We started our interview rather casually, me prompting her the simple question, “what’s your process?” Her answer was something along the lines of, I use textured paper, and “I do this all from my mind, no references.” I then chuckled, “You must have a lot of paper,” to which she happily confirmed. Our interview abruptly trailed off as two older men began to ask her more questions. One of them was an avid admirer of her art, and their conversation reminded me of a fan meeting their favourite super star then attempting to prove their undying loyalty by spitting facts as though they weren’t talking to the person the facts centered around.

I excused myself once it was apparent that I wouldn’t be getting my interview any time soon. Two of her pieces really stood out to me as well. One displayed a raven created with a variety of different black patterned papers eating a red berry on top of a barn. “Tweets” is what she named it, and she explained that it was a pun in regards to twitter, though I am still not certain on how they really connect or relate at all. However, the other piece that stood out to me was called “Letting Go 2” and was a mixed media collage of a woman drawing her hands up to her face while a small bunch of birds flew to her right. The loss and sadness displayed was impeccable, and was one of the few pieces I had seen that night that truthfully drew me in and aroused a reaction. I also concluded that she frequently used birds in her art.

At around 7:15 I decided to call it a day and go home. I had had my fill of strangers for the night and desired the comfort of my quiet home, and so with a content heart and slightly inspired mindset I left the now buzzing and glowing art center in the wee village of Mendocino. Would I recommend venturing into this gallery for free on the second Saturday of every month? Absolutely, though I’d suggest bringing a friend or date to keep things fun and less awkward (if you’re like me). It really is a cute little place to be, with welcoming people and a neat array of arts.