Talk Artsy to me
How is it June already?
Seriously.
I blinked somewhere around February and apparently, we are now halfway through the year. If I’m being completely honest, I am not entirely convinced that 2026 has only been six months long. It feels more like twelve. May arrived with all the subtlety of a marching band and immediately launched us into the inaugural Augusta Music & Songwriter Festival. What began as one vision quickly evolved into something entirely different.
Anyone who works in the arts knows that sometimes your plans politely step aside and the project introduces itself.
And you know what?
It worked.
The community showed up. The musicians showed out. Songwriters poured their hearts onto the stage on the Augusta Common. The audience sang, danced, discovered new artists, and reminded us why we do this work in the first place.
Behind the scenes, my staff deserves medals, naps, and possibly matching therapy appointments.
They were spent.
They were tired.
They were carrying radios, schedules, artist requests, concerns, questions, and several unexpected situations with grace and determination. Watching them push through challenge after challenge reminded me just how fortunate I am to work alongside people who care deeply about creating meaningful experiences for our community.
May also happens to be my birthday month, which means I spent a few moments reflecting on another trip around the sun. Somewhere between Mother’s Day celebrations, festival planning, and trying to remember where I put my glasses, my family loaded into a van and headed west to Oklahoma for our annual family reunion.
Now here’s the funny part.
I am an only child.
Yet somehow, I have twenty-eight first cousins.
And I am the oldest.
Make that make sense.
We traveled to beautiful Okmulgee, Oklahoma, where generations gathered to laugh, eat, tell stories, and reconnect. There is something sacred about family reunions. They remind us where we come from. They remind us who carried us here. I got to hug elders I hadn’t seen in years. My grandchildren met relatives they had only heard stories about. Some of those connections may not happen again, which made every conversation feel a little more precious.
The trip itself was an adventure.
Fourteen hours.
In a van.
With children.
And an artist husband who occasionally develops wanderlust somewhere around hour six.
Yet somehow those long miles became some of my favorite moments of the month. We laughed. We reminisced. We sang songs. We solved absolutely none of the world’s problems but managed to strengthen our own little corner of it.
Now that we’re home, the pace has shifted once again.
Arts in the Heart season has officially arrived.
Artist applications are flowing in.
Performer applications are live.
Volunteer recruitment is underway.
Meetings are multiplying.
Spreadsheets are breeding.
My inbox is behaving like an unsupervised toddler.
In other words, festival season is right on schedule.
Before we dive completely into September planning, we have one of my favorite celebrations of the year ahead of us. On June 19th, we gather at the beautiful St. Paul River Room for the Augusta Annual Arts Awards.
This evening always reminds me why our creative community is so special. It gives us a chance to pause and recognize the artists, advocates, educators, performers, patrons, and cultural leaders who quietly and consistently make Augusta a richer place to live. For one evening, we trade deadlines for celebration and shine a light on the people who make the arts possible.
And because apparently my calendar felt underutilized, I also have the honor of moderating a conversation with author Mopreme Shakur on June 9th.
Yes.
That Mopreme Shakur.
Tupac’s brother.
As someone who loves stories, culture, and the intersection of art and social impact, I am genuinely excited about this conversation. No pressure, right?
Meanwhile, on the home front, one of the most important events on my calendar takes place on June 13th when my granddaughter steps onto the stage for her dance recital. Now, I have spent decades in theaters, dance studios, galleries, festivals, and performance spaces. I have directed shows, managed productions, and coordinated enough events to fill several lifetimes.
Yet somehow, watching your grandbaby perform still turns you into an emotional puddle.
I make no promises regarding my ability to remain composed.
As we move into summer, I find myself grateful.
Grateful for family.
Grateful for community.
Grateful for artists who keep creating even when the world feels uncertain.
Grateful for audiences who continue to show up.
Grateful for colleagues who continue to believe in big ideas.
And grateful for every opportunity to help shape spaces where creativity can thrive.
The year may be moving faster than I’d like, but if the first half of 2026 has taught me anything, it’s that life’s best moments are rarely the ones we perfectly plan.
They are the ones we fully experience. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have approximately seventeen meetings, forty-three emails, one granddaughter’s recital, an awards ceremony, a conversation with a Shakur, and a festival to build.
See you in July.
Until then, stay creative.
And Talk Artsy to me of course.