When I travel on the highway, I allow my imagination to run wild, creating farfetched circumstances of what could be inside of those unassuming tall white box trucks. The kind with no corporate label, the kind being driven by average people wearing regular clothes, on a path to get that important something from one location to another. I have been daydreaming about the content of these box trucks since I was a kid, and the daydreamy contents have evolved and devolved throughout the years, depending on where I was heading on the map of asphalt and thought. Over the years, I’ve imagined these nondescript mobile containers housing everything from magical waterfalls, complete with galloping purple unicorns, to the gruesome contents of fearful freakshows; they were the creative pressure valve that alleviated road rage and boredom. However, on my most recent road trip, I realized my imagination was stuck. I couldn’t come up with anything new for the whimsical contents of these mobile daydream containers. Anything clever, unique, brilliant–better than before.
When I travel on the highway, I allow my imagination to run wild, creating farfetched circumstances of what could be inside of those unassuming tall white box trucks. The kind with no corporate label, the kind being driven by average people wearing regular clothes, on a path to get that important something from one location to another. I have been daydreaming about the content of these box trucks since I was a kid, and the daydreamy contents have evolved and devolved throughout the years, depending on where I was heading on the map of asphalt and thought. Over the years, I’ve imagined these nondescript mobile containers housing everything from magical waterfalls, complete with galloping purple unicorns, to the gruesome contents of fearful freakshows; they were the creative pressure valve that alleviated road rage and boredom. However, on my most recent road trip, I realized my imagination was stuck. I couldn’t come up with anything new for the whimsical contents of these mobile daydream containers. Anything clever, unique, brilliant–better than before.
D*Face
This all changed when I met Neight Adamson. Neight’s a guy on a mission, driving an unassuming white box truck with graffiti-covered sides on a cross-country trip. His plotted course is in the shape of a gigantic infinity symbol. He has no corporate sponsorship, and his truck isn’t carrying furniture for a friend. He’s doing it because he wants to, because he feels like it needs to be done. He has no scheduled meetings that would force him to race to his next destination, and he’s making contacts as he goes along. He’s not doing it to win any major accolades, nor is he attempting to impress anyone. “I’m doing it to make art more accessible,” he states, as he pushes up the door to the truck, “C’mon in.” Upon stepping up, I find myself standing inside an idea that is clever, unique, brilliant, and ridiculously simple. Neight has made a mobile art gallery inside his truck. He’s making art more accessible–one stop on his infinite loop at a time.
The side of the box pushes out to expand into a larger gallery floor and ceiling, and the art goes up on black Velcro walls. The welded metal stairs go outside, and up come the visitors. In mere minutes, Neight’s box truck turns into a reputable gallery that can appear anywhere from a busy New York City block to a dirt farm road in Iowa. It’s slick, efficient, and brilliant in its simplicity. There are large framed pieces for the serious collector, and affordable prints of the work offered for those on a budget. And boxes and boxes of 5” x 7” artwork, paired with articles on featured artists, all bound together into a pristine collectible magazine called FIND.
Freddy Sam
Neight started his quarterly magazine to find new artists, with a rule to never run the same artist twice. He picks up a magazine, turning through the pages and explains, “See, what’s cool about this is its size. 5” x 7” is standard, so if you like one of the pages, you just cut it out, stick it in a frame, and there’s your new art for your wall. It’s all about accessibility. Art is everywhere, and is happening all the time. We can’t view art as something that just happens in a gallery opening once a month. It’s constant, and evolving, and is being created every moment. We can’t ignore that.” He sees the magazine as a showcase in itself, but in print form; a way to educate more people about artists and artwork. The articles included make the artists themselves tangible and approachable, through the explanation of their creative process. FIND provides a platform of universal approachability for all readers.
As the heat beats down through the truck’s sun panel, I find myself getting a little woozy, but am instantly pulled back to reality by Neight’s excitement and grounded approach to art. This is worth sticking around for, I tell myself, pushing back the headiness of the humidity. This guy gets it. As I stand there taking it all in, I ask him if he sees this as being an effort designed to launch mobile art galleries across the country. “That would definitely be cool if other people became inspired to do it too,” he replies. “But I’m not doing this because that’s what I want in an end result. I’m doing this because it makes sense, and I felt that I needed to do it.” This guy is definitely creating a process piece within this journey. I see his course of intention as a nationwide installation in itself.
Chris Mars
There’s direction, movement, and substance to this journey, and definitely some luck as well. Lucky for me that he had to stop overnight in Richmond due to some engine trouble, so that I could write this. Lucky for him that he found the tires that he needed here in Richmond, for a bundle less than he found them in DC. Lucky for Richmond that he got to set up outside RVAlution to allow attendees to check out the gallery. On commenting on good luck, he states, “I have received nothing but positive feedback, and more support than I ever could have anticipated. People giving me a couch to sleep on, a shower, a place to get some work done… artists donating prints and paintings to contribute to fuel expenses.” Our conversation creates its own thread on the topic of virtue. I share with him my firm belief that acts of virtue provide in their own way, creating an endless cycle of doing something small yet mindful, which has a way of sending its own intention outward. He nods his head, smiling, getting what I’m saying. In his experience, the virtuous act rebounds to the magazine instantly. “We are driving around America to not only showcase these artists in our mobile gallery, and not only find new artists, but also build contacts and relationships with other galleries, curators, directors, etc. We are gathering so much content from our travels, that we can compose our next several issues right when we return. Through our growing network, we are also developing a national distribution list while getting ready for an even larger tour next year.”
Dan Tague
He’s amped about returning to Richmond next year so more Richmonders can experience the gallery. In the meantime, however, FIND continues its journey. Neight drives the box truck, distributes the magazine, and networks with artists. The FIND movement is trending, its interconnected web is growing, and it is approachable to all. Check it out:
