Herald Tribune Interview, Style Magazine Oct 2012

 STYLE 

NEW IN TOWN 

Writer:

Pamela Beck 

What inspired you to move to Sarasota? 

I had a dream that my very-much-alive parents living in Sarasota had died. When I woke up, I realized that I wanted to develop a real friendship with them now that we’re all old enough to have one. I bought a house in Sarasota within weeks of the dream. 

You write about art. What’s your background in this area? 

I grew up in a home filled to the brim with art and antiques. My mother is an artist, so talking about art and culture was a constant. Instead of team sports and Girl Scouts, my free time was spent at museums. It wasn’t surprising that I wound up working at Sotheby’s in the Impressionist painting department and as a gallery owner and private art dealer.

Who inspires you in the local contemporary art scene? 

I love what Steven High, Dwight Currie and Matthew McLendon are doing at the Ringling Museum. They’re bringing contemporary exhibitions, innovative programs and new ideas to the forefront in Sarasota. They make every attempt to involve our whole community while strengthening the museum’s reputation abroad. They’re not afraid to take risks. 

One of your blogs is written in the voice of your poodles. What’s up with that? 

Dash is a jock and wants to be respected for his athletic skills. Dash regards his brother, Domino, an introspective elitist with narcissistic tendencies, with great disdain. The feeling is mutual. We play at Urfur Family Park and Sarasota Bayfront Park, which makes Dash happy. However, Domino prefers to be held during these times, and reassured that he is my favorite of the two. They write about these kinds of things on the blog. 

What do you like to do when you’re not writing? 

Anything with my beau, Brad. I also love being with family and friends, viewing art, hanging at Selby Gardens and listening to live music. I’m an advisory board member of the Sarasota-Manatee Dance Alliance and on the curatorial and acquisitions committee of The Fine Arts Society of Sarasota. 

Out on Sarasota Bay

Friends of ours are members of the Freedom Boat Club in Sarasota and invited us to spend the morning on their rented boat. For a fee, you get to use one of this club’s boats from a variety of locations and live your life on the sea like you’ve always dreamed of doing. (Or at least, like you've imagined yourself doing but never would, because you’d be guzzling Dramamine to make that happen.)

We arrived at Marina Jack’s, one of the club’s locations, and off we went. It was a glorious day on the Sarasota Bay; dolphins were spotted, stingrays were seen, pelicans raced alongside us and spirits were high. One of our friends brought along her harmonica and played it like a pro. Our other friend lounged on the front deck with abandon in the bright midday cancer-causing sun. She looked wonderful and free, lying out there. But what does she care?  She’s naturally dark skinned and can throw caution to the wind, unlike her three pale skinned companions hiding under the Bimini beside her. (That’s what you get for youthful transgressions with body oil and a sun reflector.)

                                           copyright pbeck 2012

Had I known I’d wind up in Florida, I would have become a dermatologist and moved here years ago to tend my thriving practice.  But who thinks like this when one is young and views age spots as a sign of bad genes rather than destiny?

We bumped and glided over the water and yelled over the motor. And when we returned to shore, we had that play-outdoors-all-day feeling that we used to get as kids when towards evening, we reluctantly had to go back home for dinner.

We ate lunch at Marina Jack’s outside on the terrace. Happy and game from our bracing trip, we didn’t even mind such a petty thing as the swarming masses of love bugs that landed on our plates and in our drinks.  Pshaw!  After all, boat people are a hearty sort.  They don’t complain about bugs; they’re not sissies. They look great windblown and are capable with ropes.  And for a brief time this morning, I felt that way too, as I fished out the small black islands of insects floating in my drink.

Please read by other blog: http://whatdogsreallythink.blogspot.com/