I met Allen as we shared an opening at the West End Galleries Ltd. in Edmonton, Alberta sometime early 1990s. We sat together in the back space of the gallery. He ate broccoli and dip…wore a big black cowboy hat and crossed his legs…I remember that part because he wore awesome cowboy boots and they were most evident with the gesture. We shared few words, but the few we shared, will be forever cherished by me. He gave me encouragement about my process and what I was doing. He struck me as humble. He didn’t look at my face.
Last evening, the skies were Allen Sapp skies. Those of you who know his winter paintings of the open plains, know the skies that I write about. It was magical watching the muskrats dip into the icy waters as I walked by the small dark circle remaining open on a white frozen pond. A coyote loped over an embankment, mere feet from Max and I… the sky seemed to be painted in watercolour and the world was bathed in that soft yellow-pink light of a winter evening.
