Last night I had an art show, and once again I left feeling better than when I walked in. There was music, art, conversation, strange little objects, handmade worlds, and the soft electricity that happens when hundreds of pieces of art share the same room. Any time you fill a space with that much human expression, the vibe is going to be immaculate. Even the weird stuff becomes holy. Especially the weird stuff.
And I felt the love personally too. People stopped, looked, smiled, asked questions, and offered kind words about things that had once existed only as sparks in my head. To make something alone, carry it into public, and have another person meet it with warmth is no small exchange.
As setup began, I introduced myself to the artists around me. Before anyone is buying, browsing, or deciding what counts as “good,” everyone is just standing there with tape, hooks, frames, nerves, and hope. Artists are usually kind in those moments. We know what it feels like to carry pieces of ourselves into public and pin them to a wall.
The couple beside me stood out immediately. Not just because her art was wonderful, though it was. They stood out because of the warmth they radiated. As she talked about her work, her boyfriend kept grabbing other pieces she had made to show me. He was beaming. Fully, openly, beautifully proud. Like a golden retriever who had discovered fine art and romantic devotion at the same time.
And before I could overthink it, while I was complimenting her work, I just said the obvious out loud: “I love your art, and you have an extremely supportive boyfriend who is beaming with pride.”
She smiled, blushed, and said it felt amazing to be supported like that.
I told her everyone deserves to feel that way.
That was it. No grand sermon. No life-changing ceremony. Just a small human exchange in the middle of an art show. But it stayed with me. Later, I told my brother about it, and we both landed on the same thought: we need to let more of the compliments in our minds escape into reality.
How often do we notice something good and keep it to ourselves? Someone’s kindness. Someone’s effort. Someone’s outfit. Someone’s courage. Someone’s strange little painting that clearly came from a cave in their soul where the Wi-Fi does not reach.
We think the compliment, then bury it.
Why?
Compliments are free, but they are not cheap. A real compliment is attention made generous. It says, “I saw something good, and I refused to let it pass silently.”
Last night, sales were slow. That happens. But the evening still felt completely successful. Not because of money. Because I received kindness, gave kindness, and watched kindness bounce from one person to another like a tiny disco ball of human decency.
So that is my takeaway: let the compliments loose.
Tell strangers good job. Tell artists their work moved you. Tell your people you see them. Tell the ones who have stood beside you for years that their support still matters.
A good compliment is worth releasing.