2Dear HoCo Diary,
This entry is about a HoCo location, but also a business, and as ever with mine and Colleen’s writings on this website, it’s about a person. The location is Old Ellicott City (OEC), the business is HorseSpirit Arts gallery, and the person is Robin Holliday. She curates the second item on that list, and at one time it was located in the heart of OEC on Main Street. It was destroyed in the 20136 flood. Holliday, loyal to the community she loved, elected to bring HorseSpirit back there.
“People asked me why would I bring my business back to that location. It was because of this community, these people,” she said, her voice breaking, and her lips quivering. She looked to her side, away from me, as she recounted the story of a family of what she thought were trick-or-treaters coming by the gallery for candy after HorseSpirit rebuilt in OEC. She felt embarrassed at having to tell them she had no candy to give them. She looked back at me as she told me that they, a mother and two children, it turned out, had Halloween-themed popcorn to present to her as a thank you gift for rebuilding in OEC.
Coming Back
“To rebuild a second time…it’s too much,” Holliday said over bagels at Mad City Coffee on Harper’s Farm Road. She fidgeted with a lovely, bejeweled necklace hanging around her delicate neck. The tears that had threatened to fall only a moment ago dried up, probably because of the distraction the fidgeting provided. I was glad, not only because I didn’t want her to be sad, of course, but because I felt my own tears coming too. You can’t help being moved by the way her emotions, raw and deep, play across her face so vividly when you’re interacting with Robin.
Her strawberry blond hair was pulled back in an elegant bun, but you could tell it was an effortless one, as her hair was still wet. A bright yellow blouse brought out her dark green eyes. They were even more full of life than I was sure they always are.
Dylan Goldberg, Committee Secretary for the Health and Government Operations Committee for the Maryland House of Delegates, recently asked Colleen and me what our favorite thing was about Howard County so far. It’s how this place–these people–surprise you. It speaks to how vibrant and alive it is. Robin surprised me several times in the 90 minutes we spent together. For example, before her career in curating an art gallery, she told me, she was a security analyst. Now, she seems so funky and art-world-ish, sometimes she dons horn-rimmed glasses, at other times details of unusual gemstones trip easily off her tongue.
“We looked at, ‘What’s the worst case scenario, and how can we make sure it doesn’t happen,'” she said of her former career. It felt like a kick in the gut–why couldn’t someone have done that for Robin, for all the businesses in OEC? This same feeling of the unfairness of the loss of HorseSpirit–not once, but twice–struck me when I spoke to her husband, Max Crownover and he said this of the woman he is clearly madly in love with: “Very soon after we started dating, Robin told me of her dream to one day have an art gallery. But this wasn’t just any gallery…Her gallery would focus on the relationships and personalities that were part of being an artist in Howard County.”
Wishes and Intentions
I wished it could have been different for Robin and HorseSpirit. But it wasn’t pity that I felt. No, as gentle and kind as Robin is, her musical Southern accent and the way she wants to know about you–if anything wants that too much, as she let me do way too much of the talking during our chat–she’s obviously fiercely intelligent, and as anyone who’s loved or been loved by a woman can tell you, they know how to get things done. She’s delicate but not because of any sort of frailty, but because of an awareness of subtlety, nuance, and refinement.
Things will be better in HorseSpirit Arts third incarnation, I’m certain–both because an aura of magic and goodness surrounds Robin and imbues HoCo. As a gallery with unusual founding goals, one of HorseSpirits purposes was to be “a sanctuary” for refugees from the insanity of modern life, Ronin said.
Robin perked up after the more serious beginning of our chat when I asked if the new HorseSpirit will be like its first and second incarnations, as it will reopen in an as yet undecided HoCo location, hopefully, in the fall.
“Definitely. When I opened HorseSpirit I wanted it to be an eclectic, uplifting collection of local artists. Everyone lived within 30 miles of the gallery. And the other thing was I wanted it to be a sanctuary, a break–from the cacophony of local politics or just life,” she said. None other than Rep. Elijah Cummings (D-Md) came to HorseSpirit on the day of President Donald Trump’s inauguration to buy his wife and daughter some jewelry to pick up their spirits. Robin said it meant the world to her.
When I asked Robin if she was looking for a space to reopen HorseSpirit in Howard County, without a moment’s hesitation, she said, “Oh, absolutely. I’ve been connected to Howard County for, like, ten years,” she said. “I opened my own personal business as a place to show my own art, and through that work, I got connected to the Howard County Arts Council and Columbia Festival of the Arts.” One of those connections, in particular, would prove vital to the continuation of Robin’s work. When she found that her flood insurance wouldn’t cover the tens of thousands of dollars of art the artists that are a sort of in-residence family at her gallery lost, the Council pitched in more than half of the amount of its worth in donations.
“I will be a fan of theirs for life. I just couldn’t ask for an organization that’s more supportive of artists,” she said as our waitress brought over a whole wheat bagel that she ate in a way-too-adorable way. She picked out the insides and popped delicate bites of them in her mouth. I, meanwhile, devoured mine like a beast of prey, cream cheese smeared all over my chin.
When I asked Robin about her husband, Max Crownover’s, work as the President of the local chapter of the LGBT advocacy group PFLAG, talk turned to Colleen’s high school best friend, Bruce, who regular readers of this site will know, was gay and had killed himself in the unforgiving climate of upper-middle-class 1960s Manhattan . She reached across the table for my hand, looked directly into my eyes, and said almost breathlessly, “I’m sorry he didn’t make it.” Her tenderness at that moment reminded me of when I saw her at The Columbia Gym a few weeks back and she spoke with a benevolent passion about a local political race, crisscrossing her hands over her chest.
Robin told me of Max’s son, Luke, who’s gay.
“Max and I have been married for eleven years. Luke’s mine now too,” she laughed, and I joined her, marveling at her intense maternal instinct.
A Friend In Need
County council member Jonathan Weinstein (D-1), who’s become a close friend of Robin’s since they worked together to bring HorseSpirit back to OEC spoke glowingly of her: “She demonstrated incredible strength in the aftermath of the 2016 Ellicott City flood and made great contributions to the success of the historic district.” He said he was sure she’d have a similarly positive impact wherever she ended up reopening her gallery later this year.
Robin mentioned with glee the new puppy waiting at home for her nine-week-old Gracie. She spoke of the pup, Gracie, with that inimitable combination of concern and joy of a new mother. I, of course, chimed in with some fawning anecdotes about our canine companion, Moses. Then, I remembered that I wanted to ask her what had inspired the name of her gallery. It was an homage to the deep, restorative connection so many of us share with non-human animals.
“I absolutely believe in the healing power of connection with animals,” Robin said. I tried to nod my vehement agreement. It must have come across because she giggled in a way I can only describe as light as a breeze of laughter.
“You know, I could really see being friends with you, Robert,” she said. Remember how Robin is like a collection of charming surprises in the body of a gorgeous woman? Well, she was about to tell me another one. She teaches both strength training and dance cardio at The Columbia Gym. If you’ve ever taken BodyPump, the latter class, you know that anyone who does it–let alone teaches it–is one tough cookie. Of course, like Robin, they’re not puff pastries, but…biscotti!
Robin and I decided to meet at the dance cardio class she would be teaching that night. When I got home, however, I couldn’t resist beginning this article. A notification popped up on my laptop, thoughtful text reminding me of the exact time of the class that evening, from Robin. I got so engrossed in the article, however, that I didn’t end up making it.
I thought I was prepared for the fascinating work that’ll soon be on display once again at HorseSpirit. I wasn’t, which I found when I visited the gallery’s website. There, looking at the art on display, I was by turns compelled, moved, and entertained. There’s also a link on the site for visitors to donate to efforts to relocate and rebuild the gallery via a GoFundMe campaign.
Couples and Communities
“When I look for artists to show at HorseSpirit, I look for two things,” Robin said to me back at Mad City Coffee. “I want to know, ‘Is your art good, and are you a kind person.'” She nodded as she said this. “I really value humility.” I hoped she’d like my verbal-art article about her and that she found me modest in my self-assessment. HorseSpirit Arts, Robin’s life, and as both are tied so intimately to Howard County, are rooted in the relationships carefully cultivated.
“One time a couple came into the gallery,” she said, grinning and looking up at the ceiling as if to recall details, “and one of them really loved a piece of the art. Her partner slipped me his credit card and came to pick it up for her later. I’ve seen customers cry when someone’s bought them a piece on the spot,” she said her torso rising, filled with joy.
I chastised myself for yakking way too much, in my pushy New Yorker way. But again, I blame Robin for it, partially, because she’s just so much fun to talk to. I admonished my poor interviewing skills, and she again fidgeted with the bauble around her neck.
“You’re being very hard on yourself. I think you’re doing a great job,” she said, giving me a glimpse into the nurturing, supportive interactions she must have with the HorseSpirit family of artists. I felt a buoyant sense of security knowning that Howard County, in turn, nurtures and supports her–all of us. Suddenly, a feeling that took me off-guard flashed through me: for the first time since Colleen and I arrived here in June, I felt that this is our community too.
We began gathering our things to go our separate ways. Robin reiterated her hope that I could make it to the gym class she was teaching that night. Even something seemingly quotidian like an hour-long dance cardio class means a great deal to her. She gets, after all, that life, like art–and the relationships that give it meaning–are in the details. I’d venture to say that an attunement to the pretty, the precise, and the particular, are part of what makes Robin such a virtuoso of art-and artist-curation.
Thanks for reading! Check back with us each here at rocoinhoco.com every week as Robert, Colleen (and pup, Moses) get to know the many facets—one each week–of this prismatic place called Howard County. We want to take you along with us, so follow us on Twitter at @rocoinhoco, join our Facebook group, and follow us on Instagram at @rocoinhoco.