Dan and Max.

Of all the creatures that adored him, surely hyperactive puppies topped the list.

For someone who – purely without intention – epitomized the proper British gentleman, Dan Klein had an odd way of dealing with exuberance. He encouraged it.

The month after 9/11 when I asked him – rhetorically, I thought – where to go in a world gone mad, he said with charm-stuffed conviction “Come to North Lands”.

I went.

A year later, after I’d fallen deliriously in love with one of the most remote corners of the planet and found a pile of old stones that I thought I couldn’t live without but was sure we couldn’t afford, he nudged me towards the dream “You’ll regret it more if you don’t than if you do”.

We did.

Dan changed my life – our lives, my own Dan’s and mine. He encouraged our exuberance, our risk-taking, and our passions.

But my stories are small, short and irrelevantly personal, compared to the larger dreams that Dan Klein brought to life. Among them, the existence of one of the world’s most magical glass programs. North Lands Creative Glass is a testament to Dan’s willingness and ability to turn a quirky little Highland fishing village into a world-calibre glass centre.

I was packing for North Lands when I learned that Dan died yesterday.

He will be so very, very missed by all of us who loved him so very, very much – not least I’m sure, the madcap puppies.

Today’s the last day and I haven’t posted a note since the end of the opening party on Thursday night. Suddenly, amidst the pile of unanswered emails arrives the answer to my dreams -  the notice of Morganica’s latest post.

Since she’s covered the first day of speakers and events better than I ever could, I’m going to go make a cup of coffee and head off to PSU for another day outside of cyberspace!

Bless you, C!

The BAM (Button Art Match) game drove inquisitive party-goers through both floors of the gallery searching for their “matches” – anyone wearing a button with art picture matching his/her own.

Bob Stephan (right)  of HIS Glassworks found an unexpected match in this sartorial sibling  (No, I don’t think they’d met before – or if they did, hadn’t checked wardrobes before their trips)

It was that kind of day – unexpected collisions of ideas, opinions, art and aloha shirts. A great way to start a conference.

PS. More conference photos on the BECon 2009 Facebook Page.

It’s the day before BECon begins and someone at Bullseye had decided that our home should be added to the usual tour of local studios. Huh? Maybe they’d been to the house for dinner once and noticed that my cooking looks a lot like mixing shelf primer?

Oh well, Dan and I said OK.

We did our best.

“I’m writing an article for a trade magazine, OK?”
“I’m going to cover this in my blog, OK?”
“I’m going to report you to PETA for letting 88 people step on your cat, OK?”

Dan managed to distract some of our jovial Home Inspectors with flaws in the glass entry deck.

It was actually pretty amazing how quickly all eight van loads ran through the house. In forty-five minutes (x 8)  we all ended up six feet under where we’d started. Kind of a metaphor for life. At least this week.

In between floors, there were some fast-paced discussions of art.

After my incessant hammering on the merits of kilnformed vs blown glass I’m sure half the visitors wanted to throw themselves off the balconies.

No one did, thankfully.

After tromping through three floors of glass art and listening to me prattle on ad nauseum, we all exited into the gardens….for more blather….more art….more photo opps…

…and the final trek up the hillside to the waiting vans. Kind of like the Bataan Death March with Nikons.

Seriously, Dan and I met a lot of very cool people, and hope that we can remember even three by name when we run into them again today at the start of the conference.

Opening night knocked everyone’s socks off. The crowds were far larger than expected. Apparently they’d anticipated about 500 people for the opening night reception. I’ve heard that between 1500 and 2000 turned out. But who could count? I could barely move.

The response to the work was phenomenal.

“It’s really glass???” Was probably the most asked and answered question from Day One to Day Four.

“Oh no! Did you see it move?!” Was probably the next most frequent remark as visitors watched Heike Brachlow’s tauntingly rocking forms.

The award for Most Engaging had to go to Silvia Levenson’s works. Her wall of  glass handgrenades inscribed with “Love” and its Spanish, German and French variations on each glass-faced box captivated everyone from janitors to society types.

In fact Silvia’s work likely received more press coverage than any other work at the fair.

From catalog essay….

To press kit…

…to THE Magazine.

I thought I’d never seen such phenomenal press coverage until I met the publicity agent for an artist at the booth opposite ours.

W.C. Fields’ warning about sharing the stage with animals or children exploded in my head when I met Willa. I hope her Dad had great sales because she sure made it hard for the rest of us to get any attention.

And getting attention is what it’s all about at a fair. The competition in Santa Fe is world caliber. Not only with the rest of the show; there are somewhere between 200 and 350 galleries – I heard both estimates and lots in between – in a town of roughly 70,000 people.

For that and many other reasons, it hasn’t been the easiest show. Enthusiasm has been through the roof, but sales have been challenging. It was three days before we made the first. But then the second happened only an instant later. That seemed to start a roll. Still not sure what “that” was – the weekend? Or “buzz”? We had a lot of personal referrals; there’s no sales tool as powerful as a friend telling a friend.

And Jess Loughlin’s meditatively quiet box “Inversion” had attracted enough buzz amongst the fair-goers to sell – not only itself, but its absent cousin, “Evaporate”, that had just returned to Portland from its time at COLLECT.

Today’s the last day. We’re taking a work out to a home for a private viewing this morning, then a brunch, then dashing back to the hall for the last day.

And then it’s breakdown time again. However it goes, we’ve loved Santa Fe. It’s a town with amazing soul, amazing people, great art, and THE best Grand Gold margaritas I’ve ever tasted. We’re all leaving a bit of our hearts here.