A wall without paintings is like a room without windows.
- Anonymous

Outside, it is a still, winter day, but inside the Sanctuary, there is a vibrant conversation going on. In the Moose Hill Sanctuary Gallery, three art jurors are discussing the works of forty-five Massachusetts artists. The theme for the juried show has asked artists to address the meanings of sanctuary: not necessarily as a physical place, not only as a refuge, but through personal meaning and expressive understanding.

There are over one hundred pieces of work to evaluate. As the judges narrow down their favorites, the talk grows more animated. Color photographs, acrylic and oil paintings, watercolors, bronze sculptures, exacting compositions and works designed to draw in a viewer -- the range is astonishing, and the quality is fine art with power.

Earlier in the afternoon, the Gallery had been quiet. The only sounds were of occasional heels crossing the oak floor boards. The sun shone into the front windows of the grand old house, warming up the whole space. This early nineteen-hundred house belonged to the Kendall family, and was given to the Massachusetts Audubon Society at Moose Hill in 1987 to become its visitor center. It is a fitting historic building for the first Audubon sanctuary in the state. In the quiet sunlight, it is easy to imagine the first occupants of the home sitting around the large fireplace, snuggled down against the winter snows.

Now in the warmth of that home, the glow of many artworks creates the illusion of sound and light in the Gallery. Each piece of art seems to speak aloud its own color, shape, tone, and movement. Some sing, some whisper, some laugh.

Meanwhile, the jurors have been taking in every single artwork, talking about the strength of composition, the control of craft. They have debated the virtues of good presentation and the variety of interpretations on the theme of sanctuary. Overheard, one juror states, "Some works communicate effectively and are wonderfully well-wrought." Another says, "This is a wonderful print, but it doesn't speak to the sanctuary theme."

"Writing can be a sanctuary too," says one, referring to inscriptions in one large painting that is alive in bold yellows, greens and blacks.

Another looks at a crisply printed large format photograph and says, "This has gotten to the heart of what we are trying to achieve."

A ruminative reply: "Yes, and the best works have multiple levels of meaning."

And with great excitement, the juror at the back of the gallery has found a bold, painting which elicits this comment: "This is done by an artist in command of his or her materials. It’s well-composed, has voice, is evocative. This one must be in the final show."

After a long time, the jurors have made their final decisions. There are twenty-six artworks for the final show.
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Some time later, the next step: the final artworks need to be hung in the Gallery. The direction of the show is in the eyes of the curator from this point on. But at the very same time someone needs to do the physical work of getting the work on the walls.

A professional commercial artist, a practiced photo maker, and an exhibit director/manager begin to arrange small groupings of the 26 artworks into a reasonable first editorial effort. This is a process that seemed like fun for some, and highly conflictual for others.

The next two hours are wearing, as the curatorial decisions are being made during an overabundance of distracting suggestions. Sarcasm surfaces, slights are unintended but feel real, fatigue sets in, it gets later and later. Nevertheless, the work comes together. The decisions are made. All of the artworks are in order in their rightful places. Only the work of hanging remains.

That part goes fast, and hopes surface again. Everyone begins to be excited, as the show takes shape on the walls. Slowly it dawns on the curator and the exhibit director: this art exhibit is almost ready for opening to the public. In three separate corners of the Gallery, the team sinks to the floor. From each corner, a report on what looks great, and on how the choices of photograph next to painting next to photograph works well. The Gallery walls seem to be in conversation with each other. But the team's voices carry in the unnatural quiet of the space.

The moment has come. The process is complete. Here is an art exhibit, ready to open, and willing to be celebrated. That will happen this week, during another frost-bitten winter day. Inside, the artworks will provide sanctuary.