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As a boy, I spent much time helping my Dad matt, frame, and hang his and his fellow artists' exhibits, and if everything worked to my advantage, I could ride with them to shows in other cities around the Southeast. We would pack up sometimes six station wagons full with paintings, Prints, drawings and sculpture to storm a regional exhibit or art fair. We'd set out in a caravan to Nashville or Chattanooga, sometimes Atlanta, single file down the two-lane highway. Photograph by Carl Sublett
Photograph by Karen Fiene I remember once, coming back to Knoxville on a full moon night from a competition at the Parthenon in Nashville, one by one we turned off our headlights and for several miles on the newly finished interstate from Rockwood to Knoxville, drove guided only by the cool moonlight.
At that moment the commeradery was palpable yet not a word was spoken. I knew then and there that art is an important thing in the world. It was as if a pearl were placed in my brain. I too, would someday like to be an artist. Photograph by Randy Rand

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