Sylvan Raines was a modern hippie type of girl. She wore the most interesting outfits sometimes. Today it was a charcoal pair of pants and blouse with purple, black and brown material weaved into the bottom of the pants and the front of the blouse and sleeves and hanging like tassels from them.

She had long, sandy brown hair. She had a petite frame. She was wearing thin framed, blue glasses and sitting in a chair reading beside some various pieces of artwork. Most of them were abstract paintings but some were sculptures of various mediums and designs. She didn't exactly have a booth. There was a small table with some literature about the studio that she shared with several local artists. She sat there reading a book, quietly.

She didn't move much when people stopped to look at everything. Some would look at the literature and a few would take it. Some would ask her questions about the pieces or her inspiration but not many. If she sold a couple pieces that week, it would satisfy her. She was a true artist who believed that if someone 'got' her, they would be deserving of her work and would buy it. If they thought her stuff was priced too high, then they just didn't get her anyway and shouldn't buy.

A gentleman with a little boy stopped and began to look at one of her paintings. It was a work that took her months to complete. It had been done at the very heart of one of her darkest moments. The composition included darker blues mostly. The light was breaking through parts of the waves and yet some of the light was dragged into the whirlpool of dark. The focal point was a small, bright area that was holding on to the last ground and slowly slipping back into the confusion. So to explain this to someone who didn't get it; would be ridiculous anyway.

"Hmmm," he said. She looked up from her book for half a second at him. He was a good looking man but she could tell he didn't really care about her work.

"Very interesting," he told her.

She almost laughed.

"What inspired this one?" he asked.

She stood up and smiled at him. "This was done during a dark time in my life. I used a mixture of mediums and surfaces such as this paper Mache and cheesecloth, to represent different levels and points of view. Standing at different angles can bring different effects then. Just like looking at life from different angles can help you see things differently."

"Yeah; I was thinking about that," he said.

"Our studio is on fourth street North, if you ever want to look at more of our work," she told him.

"Our?"

"Yes, my colleagues and I," she explained. "I have pieces from artists all over Ohio."

He was clearly looking at her more than the paintings. She could tell how awkward this was for him.

"Yes I think I would like to stop by sometime."

"Here," she said, reaching for something on her table. "Here's my card. I'm Sylvan."

"Warner," he told her. "I'm Warner. It's nice to meet you."

She smiled at him and handed him her card.

"You too," she said.