
The first time I saw her work, I was strolling through art galleries at the monthly “First Friday,” where the streets are packed with strolling crowds and the shops, lounges and stores stay open late in the gentrified
Brown’s canvas oils were hanging on the wall of an obscure shop. I was so struck by the colors and designs of her work that I was planning to buy a painting on the spot. They didn’t have a canvas of the image I wanted, however, and I swayed back and forth on whether or not I wanted to purchase a print. With friends waiting for me outside, I decided to leave Heather Brown behind and enjoy the rest of the evening—including a live demonstrations of five glass blowers churning hot soon-to-be vases on a tiny street corner.
It was ridiculously dangerous to have five adults twirling hot molten on long metal rods within a small roped off area. As we shook our heads in disbelief, we knew there were looming accidents just waiting to happen. Indeed the glass storefront of Mark’s
[for background on Heather Brown click on my posted "comment" to this entry]








