As I was rushing to the You Do You Leslie Grove Gallery exhibit to get there for the 6 PM start time opening, I realized I had not eaten anything and would be starving by the time I arrived at the gallery. I could literally be a starving artist.

I stopped by the KASPACE café, figuring I could inhale a muffin to keep me going for a few hours. But the menu proposed ackee, a fruit that is popular in Jamaican dishes. This reminded me of a close childhood friend of mine whose parents once served me ackee and I could not resist the nostalgia.

This dish took about 10-15 minutes to make, or so I was promised. I had 15 minutes before 6 PM.

The café was a mix of nude photography, jewellery, hipster vibe coffee shop with long tables, designer fashion, and a side kitchen.

The chef, a kindly man in some kind of non-western clothes, smiled to me, while I debated about whether to ditch the food and run to the gallery to ensure they knew I was actually there and not a flake. After all, aren’t galleries known to have you sign off on your first born? Or is that the music industry?

After breaking the ice, I mentioned I was exhibiting at the gallery nearby and it started at 6 PM.

“Is this your first time?” he said. I affirmed.

He congratulated me and told me to take it easy and it didn’t matter so much whether I showed up late.

He was like the all-knowing sage, and I was the pupil running about like a wild rabbit. Judging by the nude photos on the wall, I presumed he had been to more art openings than I had.

By about 5:57 PM he also joked about how I really was worried about whether the meal would be complete in the next two minutes. Both hilariously true and empathetic.

I let out a sigh of relief when he told me how the hash browns he was packing up for me might be a bit soggy but the next time I came back, they would be crispy. The owner who checked me out at the cash earlier smiled knowingly as she gave me a reusable bag for free to pack everything up.

I didn’t even know there were hash browns in what I ordered!

The folks running the gallery were amused as I stuffed my face in the corner with food and apologized profusely for having come directly from work and being a few minutes late. While there were a few patrons milling about already, it seemed to not really matter whether I had arrived on time or not.

Mr. Sage was right after all.

The ackee was delicious and I could have probably enjoyed it better had I stayed present rather than then being consumed with how I had no idea what I was supposed to do at a gallery opening.

The next two hours were sometimes awkward, as I felt I had to stand by my art in case some millionaire showed up and really liked fishing boats. (There was no such person by the way, at least none that I could tell).

For some reason, being at the gallery was a lot more pressure to me than the whole big challenge of having my own tent set up at the Queen West Art Crawl, which was significantly more logistically complicated. The informality of an outdoor art show and the nice sunshine made it easier.

Perhaps it was because after I had seen so many art galleries myself to browse, it was my work that was on this wall. There were the spot lights, white walls, and the easy ability to compare myself to 65 other artists.

Was mine unique enough? Was it good enough? Was I good enough?

My partner realized I was tense and tried to talk me down to enjoy the time there a bit more. Eventually, it was more enjoyable to talk with other artists.

Everything is a challenge and a learning process. I’m sure I’ll look back at this time and maybe get to nod knowingly to another person – my past self – who was that loveable, wild rabbit.