George Billis Gallery Booth #226

The Hamptons Fine Art Fair is an experience, one that floods your visual capacity. Everywhere you look is a bold, colorful spectacle. Art in every form– painting, photography, sculpture competes for your attention, each piece hoping to stand out. But the real theater might be in the aisles, where people parade past in their idea of art-fair fashion. Picture the Met Gala if it were open to the public—less security, more creative freedom, and plenty of bare skin. One woman glided by in six-inch heels, wearing a crocheted string mini-skirt and a bra top, her long blonde hair cascading past her waist. She was ready for 600 booths, or at least ready to be seen walking past them.

In the middle of it all, I had a wall of my own. My paintings are all about the opposite kind of experience, salty water, open sky, the feeling of being grounded at the edge of the sea. It was interesting to watch people pause and soften in front of the work, even for just a moment. Somehow, in the chaos that peaceful energy still came through.

Packing up after the fair is its own kind of journey. The booth comes down, the paintings get wrapped, loaded, and driven back to my studio.  A few of the seascapes went on to a second showing, this time in the Hamptons Designer Showcase in a room designed by Shannon Wiley of Sea Green Designs. I love seeing the work in a space where someone might actually live. It’s like giving the painting a home, one where it can offer that same sense of stillness and connection that inspired it in the first place.

On the way out, I spotted that same couple from earlier. They climbed into a slightly banged-up Toyota Camry, her heels in hand. His dove gray suit was still impeccable, his red hat tilted just so. It struck me that out here in the Hamptons appearances may be part theater, but there’s something honest about it too. Everyone’s playing their part, whether they arrive in a Bentley or a Camry. After the crowds thin out and the tents are dismantled, I return to what grounds me. The quiet of the studio, the pull of the sea, and the next blank canvas waiting to be filled.

Until next time,

Casey

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