Today I was back in the studio. It was a beautiful cool day outside but in the studio I was still warm in a tank top. As I took the metal in and out of the kiln my thoughts wandered. Seven days a week for weeks on end wears away at the creative impulse. I was just going through the motions. As I absentmindedly dunked a sheet of metal into the cooling tub, a jet of boiling hot water sprayed my head and arms. I was instantly transported to the present. I ran to the bathroom and ducked my head under the faucet. Leaning on the sink, I looked at the figure in the mirror with water dripping down my face. My forehead burned a little but that wasn't what was bothering me. No matter how strong you are, no matter how tough, you can't do it alone. I mean you can't succeed in anything without help. I try and remember that there are other people in the world who won't eat or sleep in a warm bed today but that only gets me so far.

You know why I became an artist? It's only a means to an end. I want to buy myself time, time to work on a book. This was going to be my contribution to the world. But it all seems so far off now. Well there’s the way it is and the way it ought to be. There is one thing that will make me feel better. In the kitchen I open a box of Reese’s Puffs that belongs to Madison, the 11-year-old who waits for the bus at my house every morning. I don't think she'll notice a few handfuls gone. They're not quite as good as the real thing but at least I'm not thinking about packing up and heading for the hills anymore.

The lobby of the Pittsburgh airport Marriott was full of people. It was 10:30 at night and every seat at the hotel bar was taken. It looked like a reunion of some sort. There were a lot of elderly couples and some of the men were in uniform. Probably World War II veterans or maybe Civil War by the look of it. Well I didn't need a beer anyway. I had been up since 4 AM and needed sleep. After checking in I was directed to a bank of elevators just around the corner. As I stood waiting for an elevator I opened the little envelope holding my room key. Room 1527. It didn't look like the hotel was tall enough to have a 15th floor. The bell chimed as an elevator arrived. Just before I stepped in I was bumped from behind by an elderly man in an apparent rush to be first. “Excuse me!” I said severely as I gave him a stare. He seemed not to notice and immediately took up a position at the control panel of the elevator. I stood in the back as a few elderly couples from the reunion filled the front of the elevator. “What floor do you need?” The man at the panel asked everyone. He seemed to be enjoying himself as if he had once been employed as a liftman. “15” I said, trying to see for myself if the panel did indeed have a number 15. There was an immediate murmur of “ews” and “ahs” from the elderly couples. One very stooped but still very tall gentleman looked at me and said, “You must be important.” For a brief second I thought to explain to him that I had booked the room on Hotwire and despite my faded ball cap and Carharts I was not an important person. But then I quickly realized that any conversation about a .com with these octogenarians was going to take more time than even an elevator ride to the 15th floor, so I just smiled. Two floors later the elevator stopped and three impish looking young boys piled on. In a helpful voice the tall stooped gentleman told the boys that this elevator was going up not down. One of the boys was already repeatedly pressing the close door button. These boys knew what they were doing. “You get into any trouble tonight?” The tall stooped man questioned the boys smiling. They looked at each other as if wondering whether it was okay to divulge such secrets to this obviously friendly man. “No” one boy answered after a conference. “Have you seen the pool yet?” The tall stooped man asked. Clearly he thought the boys would be impressed. Clearly the boys were not. Staying in a hotel with an indoor pool was not so special if you didn't grow up during the Great Depression. At the next floor two of the couples took their leave with hugs and kisses goodbye. “I hope we see you again” one lady said in voice that only very old people use. At their age any goodbye could be the last. It was touching. At the next floor the three young boys got off and just before the door closed they turned, and in unison, wished the remaining couples goodnight. I smiled. With no urging from their parents they had behaved like little gentleman. It was touching. I road up alone from the eighth floor to the 15th. I felt a little as if I was leaving the rest of the world behind. I felt a little lonely. My room was at the very end of the hall making it seem even more remote. As I stood surveying the room I realized that the 15th floor was probably no different from the others. If I saw my elevator companions again I would tell them. I thought briefly about taking a long hot shower but then opted for sleep. I pushed about a dozen pillows to one side of the California king sized bed and crawled under the covers. I clicked on the large flatscreen TV and flipped through the channels until I found SportsCenter. And gradually and by degrees I drifted off to sleep.

It would set a dangerous precedent if I thanked by name everyone that helped make a show successful. There are just too many people whose contributions large and small helped make this year's Woodland Art Fair a success. But tonight I almost broke this rule. I was more than a little touched by the level of enthusiasm and interest of the patrons, volunteers and staff. Lexington should be proud of this cultural event.

It is easy when you see people in the wholesale to be pessimistic about our future as a species. But today I was reminded in a real and satisfying way that there are more reasons for hope than despair. People as individuals are marvelous creatures. And I can say with complete honesty that I enjoyed the experience as much as I hope you did.