I was honoured to give a short speech at the opening of the Manawatū Art Expo this July. In true Eris fashion, I hadn't prepared a speech. (Don't get me wrong, there was plenty of mental preparation, just nothing written, practised, or rehearsed.) Instead, I found myself speaking about a conversation I'd just had with a fellow artist.

He mentioned the incredible positive energy that exists among our artists. It's a genuine sense of community and connection that can be difficult to put into words, but I knew exactly what he meant. As we talked, we came to the same conclusion: it isn't something that simply happens, and it certainly isn't something that one person creates.

It's the result of shared intention, and it requires effort from all of us.

Every artist at the EXPO makes a conscious choice to contribute to that atmosphere. Kindness, connection, and community don't appear by accident. They are built. You have to want to connect. You have to share a vision. Each artist brings something of themselves into the collective, and together we create something greater than any one of us could achieve alone.

So what sits at the foundation of that shared intention?

Perhaps it's because we share common values, including a respect for the heritage established by the artists who came before us. We have the privilege of continuing what they started. We recognise not only the effort and contributions being made today, but also the work of those who laid the foundations and created the pathways we now walk. There is humility in recognising the beginnings of our community and understanding that none of us is the only piece of the puzzle.

Or perhaps it's the value we place on community and connection, with each artist appreciating the support, friendship, and camaraderie that comes from working together. Artists are often solitary creatures. Creating art can be an isolated pursuit, which makes events like the Expo both energising and exhausting. We could choose to keep our energy to ourselves. We could stay within our own spaces and focus only on our own work. But in doing so, we would miss out on something invaluable.

Connection replenishes us.

From that shared intention comes a unique energy. Our artists make an effort to connect with one another on a personal level. They bring humour, support, and enthusiasm into what could otherwise be three long, intensive, and emotionally demanding days.

The conversations, shared experiences, learning opportunities, encouragement, and friendships formed through networking are what sustain us. Giving feels good, and when each of us gives a little of ourselves, we all gain far more in return.

So here we are: a collection of artists who understand that giving and receiving are not opposites; they are part of the same cycle. We get out of this community what we choose to put into it. Through intention, we create something bigger, stronger, and more meaningful than any individual effort. In the long game, we all reap the rewards.

Ironically, true giving isn't done for the rewards at all.

And perhaps that is the very foundation of intention.

As a side note, I can't leave it hanging that the Manawatū Art Expo is the only place with this kind of vibe. I'm sure it isn't. I'm responding to the feedback and conversations I've had where people repeatedly tell me that the Expo has something unique.

Perhaps part of that energy comes from the fact that it is built by artists, for artists. Everyone arrives with different styles, different experiences, and different levels of confidence, yet for three days we share the same space and the same purpose. There is no competition for a single prize, no hierarchy separating newcomers from veterans. Instead, there is an understanding that every artist belongs and every artist contributes to the experience.

The Expo also asks something of us. We don't simply hang work on a wall and disappear. We spend time together. We talk, we share stories, we celebrate successes, and we support one another through the inevitable challenges that come with putting ourselves and our work into the public eye. That shared vulnerability creates a different kind of connection, one built on authenticity rather than obligation.

So my speech was short and simple. It was a thank you to our artists for sharing that intention and for recognising that community doesn't just happen on its own. It takes effort. It takes participation. It takes people who are willing to give a little of themselves for the benefit of something larger.

The good news is that no one person creates that, we all carry that responsibility.

And perhaps that's the real foundation of the Manawatū Art Expo. Not the artwork on the walls, but the collective intention of the artists standing beside them.

And so, Thanks