A Woman of Art

Corinne Ingerman, petite and lithe, almost glides from room to room, wall to wall, expounding on the more than 30 paintings in her house. Every work has a story, a featured technique, an interesting subject.

She has been painting all her life.

“Ever since I can remember, I've had a pencil or paintbrush in my hand.”

She grew up in Philadelphia. Married young, her degree in art wasn’t realized until her kids were in school. She completed her bachelor's at Philadelphia College of Art.

In between explanations of paintings, she tells me about her life. The visit was part docent, part personal anecdote.

A snowbird for years, Corinne finally settled in Florida in 1980 and brought her brushes and pencils with her.

As an early resident of emergent Wellington, she began mingling with other artists, specifically, Tito Mangia. Their artistic relationship grew and they eventually formed the Wellington Arts Society.* 

Throughout her house every space and surface is decorated with framed art, even the bathrooms. The black and white Asian decor proves a good canvas for displaying her and others' work.

I learned Mrs. Ingerman strongly believes in experimentation. She encourages her students to branch out. "People get comfortable with one style or medium. They need to explore and venture out into different media and techniques in order to develop and foster inspiration." 

Practicing what she preaches, she's created on scratch board, painted on leather, used watercolor, oils, pastels, acrylics and clay. I asked how she decides which medium to use.

"The subject determines the medium," she said. 

If the model is an Egyptian bride in her native gauzy gown, it's watercolor. If the subject is the red rock pinnacles of Sedona, Arizona, the medium is oil on leather; the rawhide texture underscoring a western theme. Streetscapes are of acrylic. Nude sketches are of charcoal. 

One large oil painting hangs with a commanding aura above her couch. It is of two horses and riders. 

"I labored  over that piece for more than two years," she recounts, "changing this and that and never feeling it was finished. 

Now, my husband knows nothing about art, but gives the best advice. He was a college basketball star, and the fine points of painting are foreign to him. Finally, in desperation I asked him what I should do next. Here's what he said."

"Hang it on the wall!" 

"That's it?  Just hang it on the wall?"

"Yes," he said.

"So, I did.

And I cried."

The experience was a lesson in not overdoing a piece. It's a common trap, she explaines, that many artist fall into.

This 'less is more' philosophy is reflected in her favorite technique called the 'limited palette.' Just 1 to 3 colors are utilized in varying intensities. It gives the piece a unifying and cohesive feel.

My Sunday afternoon tour ended up in the bright westerly facing solarium that functions as a studio. It was filled with artist's supplies, works in progress and spilling with sunshine.

Mrs. Ingerman continues to devote a good deal of time to her artists' community she founded 35 years ago. When I asked what the group's proudest accomplishment was, Corinne cited the decorating of Tiger Shark Cove, a community-built playground. Arts Society members adorned the equipment with sea themed objects and murals.

The Wellington Arts Society's mission is to educate and encourage originality among artists, to present and promote art, and advance culture in the western communities.The group's membership has grown from 2 to 100 and currently meets the 3rd Wednesday of each month at Bootz Cultural Arts Center.

I think Corinne Ingerman has done a great job of fulfilling this mission. Newcomers, artists and enthusiasts alike are welcome to join in.

Silly Schizophrenic Spring

 Silly schizophrenic spring

You need a diagnosis

Your outbursts and extreme mood swings

Show a deep psychosis

First, nor'easter winds you bring

Then it's warm and solar

Silly schizophrenic spring

I'm certain you're bipolar

We hang up coats and put on shorts

It's hot, but you're just teasing

Next day the weather app reports

 39 and freezing 

My cousin from Connecticut

Sent pictures of her daffodils

A sudden flurry buried them

Dear Spring, have you considered pills?

 

 Yet, cherry trees and butterflies

Make you irresistible

Your blooms and buds, the reason why

 We can't help but love you still

Each day we hope you'll stabilize,

Find your identity, resplendent

You might be crazy, but, surprise!

We're just as codependent!

.

My Son's Engagement Story

The beautiful bike ride was just the beginning of our spectacular weekend. No, it wasn't full of limousine rides, front row seats, expensive dinners or yacht cruises through the harbor.

It started with a phone call from my second born son. We talked of traffic tickets and dental insurance. Then he said:

"Mom, I got the ring!"

"What? Are you still going to give it to her from the top of the Getty, when you visit LA ?"

During our conversation, he'd gotten a delivery notice of the ring.  Rather than wait for California, he planned to propose on Saturday, in between Good Friday and Easter, so as not to detract from Jesus. Sounds funny, but he was nothing but sincere.

"Text me a picture right away!" I pried. He did and it was stunning.

She is a great girl. Smart as she is witty.  Literate as Dorothy Parker, but with a softer edge. She has a solid family and loves Jesus. What more could a mom want for her son?

The next day, just after my husband saved my hat on our bike ride, we got a Facetime call. This time it was son and future daughter-in-law announcing their engagement. Here's how it went:.

There was no entourage of friends or hidden cameras, as is so popular these days. Just a simple walk in the park. It didn't hurt that the park was in the very romantic city of Charleston. The stroll's charm was not dampened by the gentle rain. In fact it made it better. A bystander took their picture. When the phone storage registered full, my son started to delete some photos. Then, in clear view to his girlfriend, there was the photo of the ring he'd sent me the previous day. She spied it and squealed.

In the drizzling rain, my son bent his knee and asked for her hand.

She said, yes, smile sparkling as bright as diamonds.

How Apple has changed our lives; down to the most non-technological thing as love! Engagements of the past would never have happened this way.

And that's ok. It just made the latest engagement in our family that much more spectacular.

Hat Across The Water

By far, the best activity is bike riding on a Spring day. I'd been dreaming about it for weeks.

The day to bicycle presented itself perfectly. After a few storms earlier in the week, Saturday morning shone bright. I talked my husband into a bike ride around Palm Beach Island after a morning choir rehearsal. We threw the bikes in the van, packed the bike pump, sunscreen, water, bathing suits, (just in case) and headed downtown. That's right, downtown is smack dab on the intracoastal - that finger of water that borders the east coast, usually separated from the Atlantic by a narrow island or peninsula. Our hundred year old brick church sits within sight of the shimmering sea.

Rehearsal for Handel's Messiah went quite well considering a smallish choir, organ and string trio. But we had one mighty conductor in my daughter-in-law. We said our goodbye's and looked forward to singing the next day on Easter.

Then, with a few shots of air in the tires, hats tied under chins, sunglasses, we were off! Careening through a few parking lots we merged onto the main coastal road, hung a right onto the bridge over the intracoastal waters. No point in straining ourselves, we walked up the bridge, then coasted gloriously down to the island, hair flying madly in the wind.

The Lake Trail is a sidewalk that lines the west side of Palm Beach Island, mansions on the right, glittering salty waters on the left. God's blue creation on one side, gracious homes on the other. One feels cheated if you miss the view on the opposite side you're looking. There's just not a bad view in any direction. Ideally, eyes should stay on the road. There were a few close calls from ignoring that basic driving rule. Too many pretty distractions.

We rode to the north point of Palm Beach island and reached a dock next to the Singer Island Inlet. There's always wildlife or natural wonders to see. One time we saw a bulbous manatee near the shore rocks. Today the clear turquoise water revealed yellow striped and needle nose fish skirting the pylons. Hot from our ride, the water looked inviting and cool.

Then, fump! Off blew my hat into the sea. To my surprise it floated close to the dock. My husband and I exchanged worried glances and before I knew it, he was emptying his pockets and handing me car keys, wallet and receipts. Off with his shirt and my Sir Timothy dove in after my hat, which by then had drifted further from the shore. My heart burst with pride, while a young couple witnessed with amazement my husband's chivalrous act.  He grabbed the hat and swam sidestroke back to the dock. But triumph turned to discomfort quickly as he struggled against the current. His cargo shorts didn't help, adding resistance to his forward efforts. Finally, he reached the pylon for a brief rest, then paddled to the ladder.

The drama had left him winded and me worried that such a trivial thing as a hat had put my husband in danger. His toes bled from barnacle cuts. We rested, dangling feet off the dock. I surveyed the contents of Tim's pockets laying on the deck. Something was missing.

"I've got some bad news," I told him.
"What?" he asked, panting still.
"You didn't give me your cell phone before you jumped in."

Hubby reached in the lowest pocket of his cargo shorts and pulled out a soggy cell phone. Bummer. The $8 hat was not going to offset the cost to replace a phone, even though it was a basic phone. And even though the hat was a momento from Saint Augustine.

Shaking it off, Taylor Swift style, we boarded our bikes for a lovely ride back along the same Lake Trail and drank in the still sunny, cotton cloud day.

I tightened my hat strings under my chin and treasured how my husband, my hero, had taken a risk and rescued my hat.

This is not me, by the way. :) But we did this.

Palm Fronds In Paris, Bombings in Brussels

Some things are constant around the world.

Like daring, precocious little boys.

Like palm fronds on the Sunday before Easter..

I discovered this on a trip to Paris with my daughter years ago, chaperoning her high school choir's tour of France and Switzerland. Among many venues, the choir was scheduled to sing at Englis - Saint Augustin church in Paris.

As soon as we arrived, a group of French 'boy scouts' converged at the door. Rambunctious and rowdy, they wrestled on the 150 year-old steps of this 19th century church. My four boys had stayed home with my husband in the States.  The sight of this was so comforting. Boys are wild the world over, not just in my family.

The boys tumbled into the church and went straight for the candles. I couldn't believe my eyes. They didn't just dip their fingers in the melted wax, they poured the hot liquid over their bare hands, squealing in painful delight. The more pain, the better. I felt my parenting vindicated as I watched these European youths at church. Despite their boisterous beginning, they managed to settle down and behave quite well during the very long service.

As the church filled up, attendees were handed not palm fronds, but bush twigs for the Palm Sunday celebration commemorating Jesus' Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem. I was surprised there were no palm leaves. But, of course!  This is Paris in March, not California or Florida where I've lived. Shrub sprigs will have to do! I saved one all these years, it struck me so.

But the palm fronds and shrubs sprigs are not the point. It was Jesus' royal procession into Jerusalem and the people's worshipful response.

The people hailed him by waving the palm leaves.

They cried, "Hosanna!" which means "Lord, save us!" They believed that Messiah would save them from the oppressive Roman rule and restore a better government.

Save, He did. But it was an internal and spiritual saving accomplished on a cross days later. He saved and saves us from the tyrannical rule of ourselves.

How appropriate in the light of the Brussel's attacks and our chaotic presidential campaign. We are in great need of saving politically and spiritually. No one argues there is something terribly wrong with humankind. Some call it sin or a destructive nature or negativity. 

"Hosanna, hosanna! Lord, save us!" would still be the cry of many today. The phrase is no less meaningful 2000 years later.

Let's pick up our palms and  bush branches and praise the One who saves. Messiah has come!  Let's give Him rule of our hearts. If we could all be changed on the inside, the outside world might look quite different!

Henry Flagler: Cultural Pioneer

Flagler College, St Augustine

Last weekend I traveled to St Augustine for a reunion with my New England cousins. We stayed at the Sarah Petty Anderson house in the heart of America's first town, within walking distance of all the major sights like the San Marco Fort and the renown Flagler College. What a gorgeous structure Flagler built back in 1888 as his first hotel to support his railroad system the sun-seekers of a century ago!

Flagler Museum courtyard

Even though I was far from Wellington, I mused on how Flagler impacted these two cities and all the communities along Florida's coast. 

Hi second hotel was built in West Palm Beach. 

If it weren't for pioneers such as Henry Flagler, we wouldn't have Wellington, much less the art and culture we enjoy in this community.  Sure, someone else probably would have built the railroads and settled the swampy land. But he did it, and his story is worth retelling and appreciating.

Upon a visit to Jacksonville for his wife's health, Flagler bought the Jacksonville, St Augustine and Halifax railroads in partnership with John D. Rockefeller. 

Flagler built his first hotel in St Augustine, The Ponce de Leon Hotel, which is now Flagler College. It was and still is considered an architectural marvel. After establishing three hotels, and the huge Memorial Presbyterian Church, in memory of a deceased daughter,  he and his Florida East Coast Railway continue southward. 

He purchased an existing hotel in Ormond Beach, then visited Lake Worth, which he referred to as a "veritable paradise." He built his second hotel, The Poinciana, boasting as the largest all wooden structure in the world with a dining room that seated 1600.

Poinciana Hotel

                                     

Then came another little (I jest) local hotel named the Palm Beach Inn, known to us as "The Breaker's."

The Breaker's Hotel, Palm Beach

Art and Architecture

Though not an artist, per se, his sense of beauty in architecture paved the way for arts and culture to grow and thrive as beautifully as the flowers for which this state was named. 

Flagler College lobby - St Augustine

In fact, over time, much of the land he owned became sites for several cultural establishments, such as The Norton Museum of Art, the Morikami Museum and Japanese Gardens, and the Palm Beach County History Museum and 1916 Courthouse. All these were part of his Model Land Company, owning 2 million acres from Jacksonville to Key West.

In 1902, Flagler raises his Palm Beach home, called Whitehall, which brings me to the thrust of this article, because it's Around Wellington.

There's a lot more to see than the 75 rooms, including ballrooms and dining rooms.  Whitehall, this Gilded Age specimen, is of course open for tours, but it also offers cultural events and tours of the Breaker's Hotel.

Here are some upcoming events at the museum. 

Saturday, April 9, 3pm - Blue Grass Concert - Flatt Lonesome and Lonesome River Band - tickets $35

Saturday, , May 7, 11:30am - Mother's Day Tea

Sunday, May 5, 12 noon  - Mother's Day Tea

Sunday, June 5th  - Founder's Day - Free tours of the Flagler Estate


Watch a Lecture about the Architects of The Breakers
This lecture on architects Schultze & Weaver was part of the 26th Annual Whitehall Lecture Series on "The Architects Who Designed Palm Beach's Iconic Buildings." Jonathan Mogul is the Academic Programs Coordinator at the Wolfsonian at Florida International University. He co-authored "Grand Hotels of the Jazz Age: The Architecture of Schultze & Weaver."

Lecture on Breaker's architects

With all this to do in our own backyard, there's no need to travel to St Augustine just to see amazing art and culture unless, of course, it's to visit cousins.

Farewell To February. Hold On To Your Valentine.

It's the month of love, candy, president's birthdays and sweet valentines. We honor, celebrate and whoop it up with chocolate, flowers, date nights and mushy cards.

Vector by Sannare - depositphotos.com

Even with the leap year and longer month that brought the unusual "29th" of February, we must say good-bye, at last.

But, bid our Valentines farewell, we won't. Most of us shouldn't. Those of us who live in marriage land would do well to hold on tight to our lovers!

At 39 years of marriage, I often campaign for the institution. Not because it's been continually happy and fulfilling, but because I believe in the bond, the knot, the covenant. And also, darn it, because I really love my husband. Marriage is the bedrock of a country; the glue of society.  It is the deep-seated security of children and creates more stable and productive citizens.

Some call marriage a mystery. Some call it an art.

When my mother moved from Florida to San Diego in 2002, one of her paintings didn't survive the trip. A corner of the canvas already peeling off the frame, by the time it reached California, it had crumpled into a fetal position. Once an impressionistic swirl of forest greens and earth tones depicting "A Mid-Summer Night's Dream," it now lay as a shapeless pile of paint and burlap.


Ruel Crompton Tuttle, 'Uncle Rulie' to my mother and the family portrait artist, created a trio of scenes from Shakespeare's play, including "Puck" which still lives on my brother's bedroom wall. But this one, hurt and hopeless, was headed for the trash.

In an effort to resuscitate the ailing artwork, mom drove it to the Balboa Park Museum. Can the picture be saved? As damaged as it was, refurbishing would only cost a few hundred dollars. But, for some strange reason, none of us made the effort, nor paid the price for restoration. And no one went back to the museum to get it.

Fifteen years later, we find this formerly abandoned painting online, intact, restored, beautiful. And going for a pretty penny. Our negligence was someone else's gain - a vivid lesson in perseverance, or the lack thereof.

This story could well be applied to people, instead of paintings.

How many of us deem the damaged relationships as discards? We mark a marriage remnant as irreparable. We declare "I'm done," when with a some effort and investment, the marriage could regain it's former value. It could be an exquisite work of art. Instead, we prematurely abandoned a masterpiece in disguise.

I've seen couples heal despite the betrayal of infidelity. Still, many leave for the most trivial offenses.

So, on the heels of February, here's to forever love.
Messy and marvelous love
Lush and lack-luster love
Exhilarating and exasperating,
Enduring love.

Doing the Dr Seuss Dance

 

From her La Jolla, California home, Audrey Geisel explains to art curator Bill Dyer, what it was like to watch her husband paint.

"He would do this little dance: lean forward, twitch his brush on the canvas. Lean back, tilt his head with a critical eye. Lean forward again and  swab a dab here and there. Sometimes he would add another cat, because in his words, "there was always room for another cat." This two-step shuffle was repeated till he was satisfied with the outcome.

You can see the fruits of the 'Dr Seuss Dance' at the Gardens Mall through Valentine's Day. You are in for a big, bright, delicious gulp of crazy creatures, delightful wit and the unfathomable imagination of the world renown, multi-generational author and illustrator, Theodor Seuss Geisel, known to his friends as Ted and more commonly as:

Dr.Seuss!!!      

                                                                                                           

Who knew this great body of work even existed? We thought he just wrote and illustrated quirky children's books. And that he did. But in 1997 the Chase Art Group, lead by Bill Dyer, started working with Audrey Geisel to present this secret collection to the world. Each year a handful of serigraphs and lithographs are printed and added to the exhibit.

It was no small feat to bring The Hidden Art of Dr Seuss to Palm Beach Gardens. It took two years and a grand collaboration of several organizations. Groups such as the Nicklaus Children's Foundation, the Maltz Jupiter Theatre, The Chase Art Group, the Ann Jackson Gallery, The Cultural Council, and the Gardens Mall.


When asked why he painted cats, Ted Geisel retorted, "Because I can't draw dogs." Here are some of his featured cats from the gallery:

Joseph Katz and the Coat of Many Colors

         Plethora of Cats

  

   

The Hidden Art exhibit represents 60 years of work by Dr Seuss. Limited prints can be purchased at the mall exhibit which runs until February 14th.

Also on display is Seuss' trove of mounted sculptures. Ted's dad worked at the Forest Park Zoo and brought home body parts of deceased birds and beasts. Ted took his dad's offerings of beaks, antlers, horns and turtle shells and invented fantastical creatures with hilarious names.  Over time, Theodor amassed quite a menagerie of weird plaster sculptures he called:

A Collection of  Unorthodox Taxidermy

the Turtle-Necked Sea Turtle

The Sea-Going Dilemma Fish

If painting and sculpture aren't enough to lure you to this one-of-a-kind exhibit, song and dance will. Each weekend, the Maltz Jupiter Conservatory presents excerpts from Seussical. Catch a show Saturdays and Sundays, 1pm and 3pm. January 23rd, 24th, 30th and 31st, February 6th, 7th, 13th and 14th. The youthful troupe is bursting with talent, energy and colorful costumes, sure to delight every viewer, young and old alike.

For more information about weekly readings and other details visit www.thegardensmall.com/events or call (844) 467-3877.

So, come on! Don't miss out on what the Dr Suess Dance contributed to the world of art and literature!

 

Anduluvian Grackler

When Moms Pray for Their Grown Sons

When moms pray for their sons, their grown sons, the unexpected usually happens.
Unexpected, because the prayers are often prayed on just a thread of faith.

Unexpected, because the answers never come as we envisioned them. We think we are in control of the answers, because we want control of everything.

Unexpected, because we believe far too little of our God; or that our God is far too little.

Then He comes through BIG; gigantic answers; huge compared to our weak-kneed whims.

When moms pray for sons who have wandered from the faith; who have flat out turned their backs in stiff-necked rebellion and angry scorn. When moms pray for the the return of those sons, moms often wait a long time. They watch their boys make terrible decisions causing life altering consequences. They peer through blurry, tear filled eyes to see their sons defy and lie and live in willful wrongdoing. When moms pray, those boys do finally come home. And sometimes they hold on to their Father more tightly because of the straying.

When moms pray, God astounds.

Some boys do fool-hearty things, like hop Southern Pacific freight trains across country for fun and film making. Good God, it's illegal! Those knife-like wheels are sharp. Those locomotives speed fast. Those toothless vagrants lie and steal. Some of  those aging hippies still take LSD, especially in Weed, California.

When moms pray for their rail riding sons, they can't fathom that God would plop them down in a hobo church for the homeless and hear songs sung just for them; words of prophecy from old women tailor-made for "The Railroad 5” as the church people called them. He sent a country preacher in a old tent revival setting in Oregon to stir their spirits, churn their souls and convict their conscience in a way that a dad's lecture never could.

When moms pray, God acts.
God speaks.
God changes minds.
God works!
Mightily!
Decidedly!

Amazing even their boys.

When moms pray.

We pray hardest for their future wives; the women who will partner with them through life. May they love God. May they be chaste. May they be selfless. May they be sharp-minded, yet humble to help their poor men. We pray hardest for our boys' life-partners.

So far God's done, well, you know, better than expected. Wonderful new daughters are coming in to the family. I'm still praying for the those yet to marry.

I won't stop praying. When the guys eventually mature, there will be new generations for whom to stand in the gap. And I'm expecting God to be faithful and loving and just and more gracious than we all deserve.

I think He likes it very much

When moms pray.

2016 Resolve: A Daily Dose of Art and Culture

With one month into the year, it's not too late to get healthy.

I'm not referring that New Year's diet and exercise program to help shed unwanted pounds gained by indulging in too much Holiday fudge and sugar cookies. I'm talking about a resolve to be culturally fit. About an intentional routine to engage in the creative realm.

If you read January's Cultural Corner in Around Wellington magazine and heeded the great suggestions of Lorie Hope Baumel, you're probably off to a good start and can skip this piece. But if you're a little artistically piqued, out of shape and have regressed into chronic nightly channel changing, read on.

To further argue the necessity of right brain fitness, we shall rouse our inner child and listen to a tale about an ant named Phil and how he saved his father from a near fatal consequence of cultural lethargy.

Phil, the Ant and the Art Attack

He always got good exercise

That's why it caught him by surprise

When Phil's dear dad dropped like a ball,

They rushed him to the hospital

They wheeled him in flat on his back

Doctors confirmed:

An Art Attack

For years Phil's dad had rarely seen much more than his computer screen

He'd been deprived for way too long

Of theatre, dance, well-written song

His illness was just bound to be

When one's sole diet is TV!

After work at the ant hill

A kiss to mom, a hug to Phil

Dad retired to his ant cave

Emerged to shower, eat and shave

It bugged Phil's dad not in the slightest

'Til he contracted Pixilitis

For culture was what Phil's dad lacked

Artless, he had an art attack

rollinmcgrail.com

The diagnosis was for sure

He was prescribed a certain cure

Pale in the face, sore arm, lips blue

Phil knew exactly what to do

To keep his dad from getting worse

He jumped to action with the nurse

They gave him Mozart twice a day

To keep the dizziness away

A daily dose of Whitman's verse

Soothed the pain of Pixelcurse

They brought in paintings by O'keefe

Which gave Phil's father great relief

Her oil on canvas called "Grey Hills"

Took away the aches and chills

And "Sailing" drawn by Edward Hopper

Proved to be a fever stopper

Tchaikovsky's ballets were the best 

For taking pressure off his chest

At last, jazz by Duke Ellington

Made Phil's dad feel well again!

Yes, he recovered very quickly

Cheeks pink, bright eyes, no more sickly

The doctors truly were impressed

Phil's ANTidote was a success!

So they awarded Phil a badge

For how he cured his dear old dad

Phil's father saw much better days

He mended his unhealthy ways

They went to concerts in the park

Local plays, Art After Dark

Heard symphonies, and Broadway shows

Read poetry and Shakespeare's prose

Paintings hung on every wall

Music filled each room and hall

Devices in the cave, not found

No electronics were around

Except...

A seven-inch chrome-book in the corner.

(c 2016 AM Shaw)

To avoid the fate of Phil's father, here are some artistic events to add to your fitness regime. And while still in a childlike mood, consider this elixir. Visit the Gardens Mall to be enchanted by The Art of Dr Seuss. This new exhibit of the Hidden Art of Dr Seuss is presented by the Ann Jackson Gallery, Cultural Council, Jack Nicklaus Children's Foundation and the Maltz Jupiter Theater.  Enter the wild and wonderful world of Seuss with all his kooky creations in art and sculpture. The exhibit is free during mall hours through February 14th. Live weekend performances of Suessical the Musical by the Maltz Jupter theatre show at 1pm and 3pm.

And,  Oh Say, Can You Say? Just when you thought it couldn't get any better, each weekend you'll find mini-performances of  "Seussical, The Musical" played by the Maltz Jupiter Theatre Youth Touring Company at 1pm and 3pm. For more information about weekly readings and other details visit www.thegardensmall.com/events or call (844) 467-3877.

Photo credit - Tracy Benson Photography

Now there's medicine that is sure to go down with ease, sugar coated and chew-able.

Another remedy, moving up the age ladder a bit, is to take in Palm Beach Atlantic University's performance of The Spitfire Grill.. Last weekend I ran into the assistant stage manager, Hannah Rosenberg and asked  her what makes the show so special.

thespitfiregrill.com

"'Spitfire Grill' is not your typical showy, happy-go-lucky musical. It's intimate and folksy with an earthy, hopeful message of redemption. Not to mention, because of the venue's cozy size, there's not a bad seat in the house."

Performances are February 18th-20th and 25th-26th at 7:30pm with additional 2pm matinees on Sundays, the 20th and 27th at The Fern Street Theatre, 500 Fern Street, West Palm Beach.

Nothing makes me feel better than the sparkle and beauty of the  Palm Beach Jewelry, Art and Antique Show . See it  Feb 10 - 16 at the Palm Beach County Convention Center. Click link for more details.

Coinciding with International Women's month in March, the Cultural Council presents their  Women Artist exhibit. The show called Woman: Untitled runs through March 12th and  highlights fourteen Palm Beach County women artists. Cultural Council galleries are located in the Robert M Montgomery, Jr building at 601 Lake Avenue, Lake Worth. Admission is free and open to the public Tuesdays through Saturdays, 10am to 5pm. 

With that, we should all better keep our resolutions to live well, stay in great artistic shape, and have a culturally healthy 2016!