In a growing season of only two months, August is the most beautiful. That is when we host our annual Art Garden party, and it did not disappoint this year. 

After experiencing a drenching downpour on the first celebration of our public sculpture garden in Narrowsburg, NY, we learned to plan a rain date. This year we had to activate the rain date two days early, as the weather report did not relent on its prediction of “severe thunderstorms.” So we scrambled to inform all of the artists and expected guests of the change. Alas, since the garden is public, some guests did not get the message. We welcomed them anyway. 

Since the Art Garden is on our private property, people are often hesitant about visiting. I get it. But the whole point of hosting a public art space is to invite the public. We welcome visitors throughout the year, seven days a week from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. That seems to accommodate our privacy needs just right and is easy for visitors to remember.

One thing I noticed this year was how much I enjoy the space on those annual event dates, lounging on patio furniture among friends and strangers alike on a beautiful summer day. 

Of course, the garden and party require a lot of work too. My partner in the endeavor is Naomi Teppich, an artist/sculptor herself. I’m just an art lover. Back in the day, I lived in SoHo and spent my weekends visiting the many galleries there. It was another world then, with barely a deli, a health food restaurant and a few bars. The streets were empty on weekends and weekday evenings. I spent August nights on the rooftop drinking wine and eating alfresco dinners of bread and cheese with friends, watching the sun set over Lower Manhattan. 

Now, I live among trees on the Delaware River, still among artists and artwork, some of it on my own property.

Naomi makes connections with artists, provides signage for their work and keeps track of deadlines. We consult each other on details and share hosting duties like providing refreshments. When we receive a grant, as we did the last two years from the Delaware Valley Arts Alliance (DVAA), all the money goes to paying artists for their expenses related to installing the work. The rest of the expenses are shared between us.

Last year, I carefully cubed chunks of fresh sweet cantaloupe that I displayed in a large Pyrex serving bowl. As I brought the bowl down the porch steps, my foot caught on my flowing silk pants and I tumbled forward onto the stone patio, holding the bowl out to break my fall and sending tiny shards of glass into my outstretched arms. The DVAA grants manger, Tanner Simon, saw the whole thing unfold and spent the next hour tending my wounds. Tanner is trained in ski patrol first aid, and his skill with tweezers was impressive. Bandaged and bruised, I resumed my hosting duties, the drama unbeknownst to many of our guests. 

This year, fresh from my cantaloupe PTSD, I wanted to serve fresh figs with mascarpone but could not locate any figs in our area, so I returned to my old friend cantaloupe. This year, I enlisted my son to transport the melon and managed to spend the evening without incident. If this column has triggered your interest, look for us @artgarden52 on Instagram.