We never know the part we’ve played in another person’s life.
— Bill Hendricks
Carolyn Solomon, where are you?
It’s a strange question to ask someone I haven’t seen in more than forty years.
A few weeks ago, while I was back for The Ordinary at Collective Z Gallery, I walked over to the building that once housed TR’s Gallery. I managed that gallery for Circle Fine Art in the mid-1980s. Today the space is a souvenir shop.
Standing there, I found myself thinking about you.
You may not remember me. I was one of many gallery managers. But you gave me an opportunity that mattered.
A bonus I earned while managing TR’s Gallery helped Michael and me start Desired Printing. Looking back now, I can trace a line from those years in New York, to teaching, and finally back to the studio.
When I returned home, I began looking for you. I learned that Jack Solomon had passed away. My condolences. He was always kind to me. I wasn’t able to learn much more about you.
This isn’t a letter expecting an answer.
It’s a thank you.
We never know the part we’ve played in another person’s life.
Looking back, I can see that you played a part in mine.
Wherever you are, Carolyn, thank you.
