Gallery Hopping
I follow my friend into Bronze Coast Gallery, where he gravitates toward a sculpture of a crouching cougar and a photograph of a thistle. "My kind of stuff," he says, smiling contentedly. We cross the street and head north to White Bird Gallery, the oldest fine arts gallery in town at 37 years, yet still my favorite along this now art-drenched row―and find common ground in an oil painting called Winter Wetlands, a familiar setting rendered in just-deeper-than-nature colors.
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