Overwhelmed with the crowd, both Corio and Beckman had many thanks to offer for their friends, their family, and the strangers that braved the relentless rain and wind that would usually halt such a large turnout. Each hour passing the gallery space filled, with generations that were too young to have even a faint recollection of the artists in the photographs, to the generation that knew the most popular (“Is that Will Smith?” twenty year old Bess from NYU asked me) to the generation that could name all the songs on the artist’s first record. Even the photographs by Corio and Beckman became symbols of inspiration for the younger crowd, as even Beckman’s little neighbors (two girls, one in a ballerina skirt and the other holding a violin) announced that perhaps they should be famous when they grow up.
Soon the last case of wine was being opened and the crowd had grown so large it was difficult to maneuver around the room. Groups of strangers found themselves happily standing in one spot, examining every detail of the photograph that lay in front of them and discussing it, providing each other an insight and wisdom that might otherwise be overlooked before slowly moving to the next.
