Opening day is here. My exhibit booth is ready and there is a palpable feeling of collective optimism in the air. NYRA has made some positive changes and we're all very excited.
As I was going through my morning yoga routine, my mind wandered to an interesting experience I had in Saratoga long before I became an artist vendor at the track. Michael and I made the yearly seasonal trek from Florida to escape the heat and malaise and to seek opportunities to exhibit my artwork. One year, an ambitious young man opened up a concierge service of sorts on Broadway and invited me to display some of my paintings.
At the end of the summer, I went to his storefront to collect the pieces that didn't sell. He had wired them to the wall for security. As he cut the wire and gently handed me a medium-sized canvas, he gasped in horror and took a few steps backward. I peered over the back of the canvas and there was a little bat hanging from the top stretcher bar. Not more than three or four inches in length, it seemed oblivious to our activity and remained motionless in a deep daytime sleep. Then it suddenly lost it's grip on the stretcher and plopped on the floor, still not moving. "Is it alive?" I asked as the concierge hurried into the back room. There it lay, leathery wings folded, resembling the shape of a sarcophagus. A mini-Dracula, if you will.
The concierge rushed back with a red Solo cup and quickly scooped up the bat, ran out to the sidewalk and unceremoniously dumped the poor critter into a flower bed. It rained earlier and I had to laugh at the bat waking up in the wet flowers amongst the crowds of downtown Saratoga Springs.
Later when I recalled the incident to Michael, he inspected the back of the canvas and sure enough, there was a little pile of guano on the bottom stretcher bar.
When I returned home to Florida, I looked up bat totems in Ted Andrew's book, Animal-Speak: the Spiritual & Magical Powers of Creatures Great & Small. I discovered that when a bat shows up in your life, it symbolizes a type of initiation.