How the Angel of New York Saved My Destiny

I'm walking through the endless aisles of art booths, completely freaking out. I want to just curl up in my bed and bawl like a baby, but instead, I'm doing everything I can to hold myself together.

I have a huge lump in my throat begging for release as I stubbornly stay brave and keep sucking it up, fighting the tears that want to gush forth. I'm at Art Expo New York in 2009, in way over my head, about to lose everything I have and probably have to get a job at Walmart when I get home.

Our old dealer has blacklisted us here and told everyone he knows not to buy any art from me. I have invested 20K—what was left of my life's savings—into this show. We have been ravaged by the economic collapse over the last six months, and coming to New York was my big, risky move to go to the Mecca of where our art has been sold for the last ten years.

Our dealer we had been working with had told us when the economy collapsed that he couldn't buy any more work and to do what we could to make it. I told him that we were coming to New York for Art Expo. He didn't warn us or tell us not to come. I didn't realize until the second day here that our dealer would see this as war—and he had a lot more ammunition and a much bigger army.

 Power and Prophecy

We had enjoyed eight years of working with this dealer and being taken care of. John nicknamed our dealer Big Daddy because the checks just came in every single week helping us buy a big house, build a swimming pool in a backyard oasis, buy nice cars and a motorhome, and put our kids in private schools. All we had to do was paint. We didn't realize that every month that passed, we were digging ourselves into a hole of dependency that only an act of God could get us out of.

Right before the crash of '08, I asked God to get us off this perpetual motion machine of cranking out the art. I had wanted to work directly with the galleries, art consultants, and collectors. Working with a dealer made us less than 20% of the price of our work. We had to paint 80 pieces a month to keep up with our lavish lifestyle, and we were completely spent. We hit our ceiling and could not raise prices unless Big Daddy said so. We couldn't change subject matter unless Big Daddy said so.

Before I came to Art Expo, I was excited, and my heart was full of possibilities. I imagined meeting tons of contacts, gallery owners, designers, and consultants. I believed this investment would help us move up the food chain and build longevity in our business.

My good friend Barbara Gomez, a fellow artist and world changer, gave me a prophetic word of advice and vision only a week before I left for New York. She said, "Elli, God wants me to tell you that he is taking you out of Egypt. You have been enslaved there for too long. He says that just as you think you will be swallowed up by the waters, look behind you, and you will see Pharaoh and his chariots drowning in the waters, and you will come through dry."

My reaction? I thought, "Ok, Barb, you are really talking over my head." I couldn't understand this riddle, and it didn't fit at all with my expectations of what I would experience in New York. But now, as I walked through the booths trying to get a hold of my emotions, I felt like I was drowning, and Big Daddy, the Pharaoh, sat at the edge laughing and taunting me with his blacklist a mile long.

 Water Rising

I had not made one sale in three long days. Today was the last day of the show, and it was open to the public. These were the "retail" days where I had hoped to recover my expenses and at least leave breaking even. It was after 3 pm, and the show closed at 5 pm. As I walked and made my way back to my booth, I begged God to have mercy on me and let me still be an artist. I hadn't had a job in 14 years, and I couldn't bear the thought.

I returned to my booth with a speck of hope, where my assistant sat looking glum. I looked around the booth, which was filled with people looking at my work. Surely, someone will love it enough to buy something.

But instead, the hordes of hell unleashed. Two young girls, sporting tattoos and big gulps slithered over to my paper pieces, flipping through the images, and I heard them say, "God! Have you ever seen such shitty art? Whoever this artist is, she doesn't know how to paint." And they slithered out of my booth and moved on.

I had never heard anyone say anything that negative about my art before. As I was reeling from the comment, I heard another person lean into the title card and say, "Four thousand dollars?! What a rip-off! Let's get out of here."

I was aware that the clock was ticking faster than normal. I could hear the sound of each second tick by as my desperation rose and panic hit new levels.

 An Unexpected Savior

I felt a tap on my shoulder and spun around, and a woman started talking to me very quietly. I could hardly hear her words and only picked up an odd word here and there, but I couldn't comprehend what she was saying.

Her low voice droned on and on as I heard the seconds tick away. I felt like I was in some kind of trance, held captive by this woman's voice. I wanted to break away but stayed locked in. I felt like I was in some kind of torment, helplessly being sucked down to the bottom of the sea.

But in a moment, everything changed.

A peace beyond my understanding washed over me, and I looked past the woman to an exceptionally tall, lean old man glowing in the corner of my booth. He looked just like my grandpa, who died when I was eight years old. My grandpa loved photography as a hobby, and this man had a photographer's camera around his neck.

I walked over to him, and he smiled lovingly at me. He said, "You are the artist, right?" I nodded. "Well, young lady, I have walked through this entire show and have not seen any artwork that compares to this." He kept staring at a piece of art, smiling. I couldn't get over how much he looked like my grandpa.

Then he turned to me and locked eyes with me. I could feel this was something supernatural. It was like the entire vastness of the room faded, and he and I were the only ones that existed. I was the only one he cared about in that moment.

"You, my dear, are exceptional. There is something completely different about your work. It is truly divinely inspired. What you will do with your art will be known around the world. You will inspire the nations."

Tears streamed down my face, and I was shaken all over. I couldn't speak but only stared at his beautiful old face, glowing almost translucent under the lights.

 A Neighbor's Kindness

Just then, my neighbor, Hayim, across the aisle, a gallery owner from Haifa, Israel, came rushing at me with his hands waving in the air.

"I can't take it! You are the worst salesman I have ever seen! They come. They look! And they leave. They don't come back, and you no sell!" He looked at his watch. "I will sell now!"

Frustrated, he walked over to a couple at the other side of my booth and started talking with them. I turned back to the old man with the camera, and he was gone. I looked down the aisle, trying to find him, but I couldn't see him. In just minutes, Hayim came back to me and said in a quiet voice, "That piece is $5,200. You will take $4,500?"

"Yes! Of course!" I said, excited. Hayim put his finger to his lips to tell me to chill out and be cool. He returned to the couple, and they handed him their credit card. Hayim gave the card to my assistant, pulled the piece off the wall, and told me, "You, bubble wrap."

I could see my hands shaking as I wrapped the corners in bubble wrap and wound the plastic around the painting. When I finished and gave the piece to Hayim, he pointed to three other paintings leaning against the wall and said, "Bubble wrap."

I spent the next hour bubble-wrapping paintings one after the other without stopping. Once I finished my last piece, I looked up, and no one was in my booth except me, my assistant, and Hayim. The last customer walked away carrying their art.

I couldn't help myself. I wrapped my arms around Hayim and said, "Thank you, thank you! You saved my life!" I was filled with so much emotion and gratitude I could barely manage. "Please, Hayim, choose any piece here and take it home with you. I can't tell you how grateful I am for your help."

Hayim said, "I couldn't watch what was happening one more minute. I knew I had to come and help you. If you come here again, please hire a salesman." He walked over to a 24X24 abstract piece on the wall and took it to his empty booth. He had sacrificed his last hour of selling his own art to come to my booth and generously sell for me.

 A New Beginning

I tallied up the receipts and saw that we exceeded my expenses and profited $2,000, all in the very last hour of this four-day show. We worked for the next few hours, wrapping art and packing my crate. I could barely speak and was just processing what occurred in the last few hours. I was emotionally exhausted, beyond relieved, and profoundly thankful.

We got on the bus, and as I left the Jacob Javits Center, where the Art Expo New York took place, I realized I was leaving Egypt and would never return. God preserved my destiny, granted me a miracle of passage, and only allowed me to come out of it with $2,000 and no contacts.

He showed me the underbelly of the art world. I saw the control and grip Big Daddy had on this part of the market. I had asked God to take me off of the perpetual motion machine of producing art for this market. I now realized I had enjoyed the shade of Egypt for far too long, but now I was set free.

I had new markets to reach. God sent me an angel who released the word of my destiny to shake me loose from Egypt. He set me onto a new path and opened my eyes to something greater than what I was doing.

My heart swelled with hope and vision for a future much brighter than the Art Expo New York. Being blacklisted there didn't matter. I didn't belong there anymore. I belonged to a vision much greater.

Have you ever had a moment that was like coming out of slavery and into freedom?

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