10:00AM (Walk through) - I stood with my back against the long wooden table, palms pressed firmly against its grainy surface, when a tall man in a captain's hat caught my eye. I checked my phone for the time: 9:50am - Eric McHenry was here, and he was here early. Early enough to grab a coffee from up the street. I cruised towards him to say hello, glad to see a familiar face. He seemed happy to be there too, which calmed my nerves. After a short exchange I gathered my coffees, one for myself, our photographer Ethan Johnson-May, and my dearest friend Lilly McClure, and headed back down the street.

The September morning was already hot, a concern that had crept up against the backdrop of a million other concerns and problems I had anticipated and then disregarded and then re anticipated.

One by one the artists began to show up. And suddenly everyone was there. And promptly. I felt proud. I know time management is often not a creative person's most developed skill. And yet here they were. On time. Incredible. 

I watched as the artists flitted around the vast air conditioned rooms of Jeffrey Deitch. Eric McHenry crouched down to sketch in his book, Olivia Bangham walked delicately in her silver heels, carefully examining a wall of drawings, Lily Pressman and Scotty Givhan whispered to each other in one corner, and Allison Arkush stood stoically by a large central sculpture, considering its construction.