Hanging Ron Isaacs

I had to touch-up paint in the gallery, then sit at the front desk (hell of a day for no receptionist), then lunch before I could start. That's when the confusion began. Some of the pieces are labeled, some of the pieces are not here (Ron is bringing them when another show of his closes, several days after this show opens) and I need to know the width of the missing pieces before I can hang a couple of walls. I can get started, because several pieces hang on single-piece walls. Ron's work is almost impossibly delicate, leaves made out of veneer plywood. I've hung him before, but Marc and TR, when I call them to help assemble and hang the first piece, the largest piece in the show, are both nervous. These works have to go directly from their foam lined boxes to the walls, there is no intermediate step, as all of the outside edges are fragile. You can't stand it or lean it. I get four pieces hung and feel pretty good about that. After the first large one, I don't need any help holding the piece, I'd rather hold it alone, but I do need TR to slip his delicate hand behind, to make sure the wire goes over the pan-head screw set in a plastic anchor. It's fairly nerve-wracking work. I go outside after every one, out the front door (I usually smoke out back) to the Esplanade, where there is sunlight and a bench. I haven't had this much fun in ages, realize no one else wants to handle this stuff, and I'm the go-to guy. But the paper-work doesn't make any sense and I don't know which piece is which. End of the day, I have four major questions, and a slew of minor, positional, ones, and I'm exhausted. To simply do the math on one of these pieces boggles the mind. What do you mean by top, and what do you mean by bottom. And I have to know the distance between a fixed wire and an irregular line, so it's necessary for me to see the back, which means lifting the pieces out of their cradles, so I can lay down on the floor and take some measurements. Half the height of the piece, minus the distance between the hanger and the top, plus 57 inches, gives you the magic vertical spot. For what it's worth, the number is often very close to 67 inches. I'm not sure that means anything. Rain, again, it beats against the roof; meaning, it seems to me, is a compromise between something that might have actually happened, and something we might imagine. Not to cast a doubt on the nature of reality. Phone was, out again last night, so I'll just continue, Day Two of Hanging Ron Issacs. I got five more pieces hung and all the little pieces unpacked. One of the pieces was actually five separate components and required a paper pattern. I know I hung the horizontal red dress too high, but that might be a good thing because Charlotte will probably want to put the signage under it. It's a logical place because that piece is the only horizontal. Not to excuse a mistake. That particular 'dress' is about a size four, with spaghetti straps, a fitted bodice, and a flared skirt. Difficult to determine the horizontal center-line. My hands were shaking a little at lunch, so I took a break and talked with a painting teacher from the college, who brought three of his classes over today. And the residency person, Debbie, was in the classroom all day with students. Then this evening, Marc had to stay late, because the high school art teachers were doing a workshop with Debbie. I was done in, brain dead, or I would have volunteered to stay in his place. Thick gray overcast driving home, everyone had their lights on at five-o-clock. The color is beautiful right now, a hundred shades of yellow. Driving through the State Forest is a canopied trip. There's a bush I can't identify, that can only be described as scarlet. Another that is medicinal orange. I don't know my bushes well enough, or butterflies. I'd better go, thunder storms moving in.