- February 25, 2025
Now entering its second year, the annual gathering of local talent recognized the growth their event — and myself.
“You look so sophisticated!”
It had been a year and some change since I had last seen local artist Babs Luponi. With her short, spiky hair, and snappy attitude, she hugged me tighter than a few of my actual relatives ever would.
We were inside the recreation hall at Tomoka State Park where the Florida Women’s Art Association was hosting its 2nd-annual Artists Party, and it was bumpin’.
“I don’t know what it is about you,” Babs studied me some more, “but you look grown up.”
I had covered this event last year, and I was surprised to see how much it had grown up. What had been an mostly-empty venue except for a few easels here and there, and had turned into a full-on party with miniature galleries, arts and crafts tables and artist demonstrations.
“I know it’s small now,” Babs said after she got over the shock of my apparent aging. “But I just know that this is going to grow into something that people from all over come to. I can feel it.”
Babs, along with 60 other artists, spent two days in the park painting plein air and discussing the craft.
Virgina Dunford, a Boston native escaping the cold weather, had been talking to artist Marge Drew for most of the morning. After Marge told her about paintings she had sold and galleries she was featured in, Virgina got excited and said “I had no idea I was sitting next to a celebrity.”
Art wasn’t the only topic discussed at this party. I spent at least ten minutes sharing a love for sock buns with Marge and Virgina. Maybe the updo made me look older.
And just as I was starting to think that I had seen everything the event had to offer, artist Jill Long walked in wearing a large round skirt and a bonnet. It wasn’t over just yet.
The association had planned on having live history models for the artists to paint, but they were all no-shows. Instead of wallowing in what could of have been, the group got creative, (a skill they have obviously mastered) and made themselves the models. What is still up for debate is if Jill had the outfit in her car, ready for this very moment. She seems like the type of woman who’s always prepared.
Jill sat in a rocking chair by a window while the rest of the group drew, painted and abstract-art-ed her. The unartistic viewers, like myself, gathered around the group of women and watched in awe at their creations. It was the first time I had ever stopped to watch something that wasn’t a movie, TV show or street fight. Maybe I was growing up.
