Page 106 of Painting Celia

She’d wondered, last time she was here, about running a gallery. She liked the building. It was the industrial loft style she’d always loved, an old airy warehouse with high brick walls and concrete floors. It was clean, well built.

What if she bought this space? The current owners hadn’t made a success of it; it might be a bargain. They were moving to a more exclusive location, tired of fighting locals who claimed they were gentrifying the neighborhood. Maybe she could do something less elite with the building. Something that involved the community.

She knew how to run a business—that was just organization and planning. And she could afford it.

She started to feel excited.

León was suddenly there, pulling at her hand, eyes quizzical. “Celia?”

She nodded, barely hearing him.

If she had a gallery, she could show León’s paintings. Then he’d be free of the extra work of getting his paintings shown, giving him the time Trevor talked about to just create.

She could do that for new artists too. In the community, right here. Gift them the time and space to grow.

A crashing storm broke over her, a blinding electric arc blanking away vision, thunder rolling through her veins.

León planted himself firmly in her line of sight, taking both of her hands in his. “What’s wrong?”

“Let me think, please,” she begged, eyes screwed shut.

The young artists. The money. Seeing people’s needs, supporting them. Running a business. It was all right in front of her! It was worthwhile! It was something she was good at, something that would make a difference!

“Celia?”

Her head swam with too many ideas. Ears ringing, she took a stumbling step toward León, pulling at his hands.

“I need to go look. Come on!” She took off for the front door, heels clicking on the concrete floor. León followed her outside into the darkened street.

The gallery lights through the front windows spilled gloriously onto the pavement, just like her wall of windows at home. She could practically see young artists in there, creating. Safe. Provided for. Uplifted.

A wave of certainty washed over her. She spun in glee. “This is it! This is what I can do! This is my thing!”

“What are you talking about?” León’s voice behind her was utterly confused, and a touch anxious.

“The kids! The artists!” She whirled to look at the other buildings on the street and jumped up and down for literal joy. “Businesses on the ground floor but residential on top! And the warehouse is three stories! Look at the windows!”

She’d never been so awake!

How much could a building in this part of town cost? She could get a mortgage. She had more resources.

“Celia! What are you talking about?”

A final spin brought her around to León’s baffled face. “I’m going to buy this gallery and make a studio space! For artists just starting out, to live here and work. Free food and beds and laundry and showers, and they can have the time they need to make art!”

She could barely catch her breath as the possibilities piled upon each other. León gaped at her, transfixed.

“I know how to run it!” She bounced in the street. “I’d finally be using that stupid money for something real! The front can have a little gallery, so they can sell their work. I could invite important people to view what they make. That’s networking! Trevor can help with that! And promotion, Kelsey! And Andrew can teach classes here if he wants. We could have other teachers….” A little squeal escaped her. “This is it. This is everything!”

Oh, look at how stunned he was! She laughed out loud, filling the whole street with joyful echoes.

“You want to build an artist collective?” he asked, disbelief written across him.

“I didn’t invent it? I don’t care,” she babbled. “I can cook for them all. And I can live above it! There must be room. I don’t need very much space.”

León finally broke into a smile. “It’s a big idea. Is this really what you want?”

“It’s everything,” she beamed. “It’s all my skills, my way to matter. It’s finally it, my idea I was looking for. Oh god.” She hugged her arms around her body, blurring vision creating faint halos on the street lamps. “Is this what inspiration feels like? It’s wonderful.”

---