20 for 20: More Than an Art Auction

How Symphony in the Flint Hills Became Part of Me and the KC Auction Company

By Jason R. Roske

20 for 20 Note: This article is part of our 20 for 20 series celebrating twenty years of KC Auction Company. Throughout the series, I’m looking back at the people, events, collections, partnerships, and experiences that helped shape both our company and my own journey as its founder.

I originally wrote about the final Symphony in the Flint Hills event in 2025 while the experience was still fresh and the art auction was still underway. That article focused on the event itself and our role in the final auction. You can read it here: A Bittersweet Farewell: The Final Symphony in the Flint Hills Signature Event and Art Auction.

This article is different.

A year later, with a little perspective and a lot of reflection, I find myself thinking less about the auction and more about what Symphony in the Flint Hills came to mean to Stacey, to KC Auction Company, and to me personally.

Some experiences enter your life unexpectedly and never really leave.

For Stacey and me, Symphony in the Flint Hills was one of those experiences.

If you’ve followed our story for very long, you know that Stacey has a knack for discovering interesting things before everyone else. She somehow hears about events, experiences, and opportunities that most people never know exist. Years ago, a member of our church who served on the board of Symphony in the Flint Hills donated a package to attend the event. It included VIP tickets, lodging, and other amenities for the weekend.

I was the auctioneer that day, and as has happened more than once over the years, Stacey attended an auction where I was working and somehow it ended up costing us money. She bought the package, and before long we found ourselves headed toward the Flint Hills for an experience neither of us would forget.

What we discovered was far different than a typical fundraiser or outdoor concert.

The Kansas City Symphony provided the music, but the day was about much more than that. There were ranchers and city slickers, families with young children, artists, conservationists, and people who simply wanted to spend a day in one of the most beautiful landscapes in America.

Getting there was part of the experience.

You never knew exactly where you were going until you started seeing the signs. White flags flying high above the prairie, often mounted on giant treble clefs, would appear in the distance. State troopers directed traffic from electronic message boards as thousands of people made their way down gravel roads toward a pasture that had been transformed into a temporary village for a single day.

There were educational tents where ranchers discussed cattle, grazing, and conservation. There were historians, artists, food vendors, and volunteers. There were cowboy poets sharing stories after the concert. There was a late-night concert designed to stagger departures because thousands of people would eventually need to leave using the same roads they arrived on.

And, of course, there was the Symphony.

One of my favorite traditions was the cattle drive. The first time I saw a herd of cattle moving across the prairie behind the stage during a symphony performance, I thought what a coincidence. What are the odds that there is a cattle drive happening right here, right now. The next year I realized it is simply part of the event. Eventually, you begin anticipating it and looking forward to it each year.

Stacey and I loved it.

After that first visit, we became regular supporters and looked forward to attending every year. Like many attendees, we always spent time walking through the art auction tent. It was one of the most popular features of the event. Artists from across the region displayed works inspired by the Flint Hills and the tallgrass prairie. If a piece sold, everyone benefited. The artist earned money, Symphony in the Flint Hills received support for its mission, and the buyer took home a meaningful piece of art connected to the prairie.

For years, we simply enjoyed the event as patrons.

Then the wind started blowing.

The 2014 event brought sustained winds strong enough that displaying artwork inside the auction tent became impossible. Paintings and other works couldn’t safely be exhibited, and without the artwork on display, the silent auction simply couldn’t function as intended.

The organizers adapted as best they could. Announcements were made about exploring alternative ways to bid after the event, but the reality was that no one had planned for a situation where the art could not be shown. The auction had always been an on-site experience.

Like everyone else, Stacey and I went home disappointed for the artists.

Creating artwork for Symphony in the Flint Hills was a significant commitment. Artists spent months developing pieces inspired by the prairie, and the auction was an important opportunity for them to connect with buyers while also supporting the organization’s mission.

The event took place on Saturday. I thought about it all weekend and by Monday I had an option for them.

I called our friend from church and suggested a simple solution. KC Auction Company had already built an online bidding platform. What if we used it to host an online art auction for Symphony in the Flint Hills?

We weren’t looking for a client.

We simply wanted to help an organization we cared about solve a problem.

Within a few days, the board accepted the idea. We worked together to gather photographs, artist information, descriptions, and opening bids. Before long, the auction was live and attracting attention well beyond the people who had attended the event.

When the auction closed, 56% of the works had sold. Buyers came from nearby communities, Kansas City, and as far away as New York City.

What began as a response to a windy day on the prairie would eventually grow into a partnership that lasted more than a decade.

Over the next several years, Symphony in the Flint Hills and KC Auction Company continued to experiment and collaborate.

The organization and artists loved the exposure the online catalog provided. Potential bidders could view artwork before attending the event, learn about the artists, and begin planning what they might bid on once they arrived. At the same time, the board felt strongly that the art auction belonged in the Flint Hills. Walking through the tent and seeing the artwork in person was part of the experience.

For several years we hosted the catalog online while bidding remained exclusively on site. The catalog coincided with the gallery exhibition in Cottonwood Falls. After the exhibition, the artwork would be transported to the event site and displayed in the auction tent.

We even worked together on a photography auction in 2016 as another way to explore new possibilities.

As the years passed, however, the logistics became harder to ignore. Artwork had to be transported and displayed. Tents had to be rented and erected. Volunteers had to be recruited and managed. Every one of those tasks carried costs, risks, and challenges.

Beginning in 2019, the art auction moved completely online.

The decision eliminated transportation concerns, reduced volunteer requirements, and removed many of the weather-related risks that come with hosting an outdoor art exhibition. It also allowed the organization to reach a much larger audience.

Each year I traveled to Cottonwood Falls for the gallery opening and had the opportunity to announce the Best of Show award. I would also give attendees a brief introduction to the online bidding platform and share a little about our involvement with the organization.

Those trips became another annual tradition.

Over the years we worked with several executive directors, numerous board members, gallery employees, artists, volunteers, and patrons. While leadership changed, our commitment never wavered.

The audience continued to expand. Bidders participated from across the country. Many of our regular auction customers discovered Symphony in the Flint Hills through the art auction, and many Symphony supporters became participants in our regular auctions. We gained friendships, customers, and even consignments because of the relationship.

It became something more than a partnership.

Weather, however, was not finished influencing the story.

In 2019, a powerful microburst struck the event site Saturday morning, and Several tents were heavily damaged or destroyed. Despite months of preparation, there was simply no practical way to replace the infrastructure in time, and the event was cancelled.

Then came 2020.

Like so many organizations, Symphony in the Flint Hills was forced to cancel the public event because of the pandemic. For the second time in as many years, there would be no drive into the prairie, no gathering of thousands of people, and no symphony beneath the Kansas sky.

Fortunately, the art auction was a different story.

Most of the artists had already begun creating their work, and because the auction was fully online, we encouraged the organization to move forward. While people could not gather in person, they could still support the artists and the mission.

The auction continued.

By the time 2021 arrived, everyone seemed ready to gather again.

After two years of cancellations and isolation, there was an appreciation for simply being together that felt different than previous years. The music sounded a little sweeter. The conversations lasted a little longer. Familiar faces felt like old friends. Being part of a crowd again felt less ordinary and more like a gift.

Then came 2022.

In one of those moments that seems almost too perfect to be true, the theme that year was “Weather in the Flint Hills.”

Meteorologist Gary Lezak was one of the featured speakers and discussed storms developing in the region. The expectation was that the weather would pass well away from the event site and that the show would go on.

Instead, the storms turned and headed directly toward us.

The event was cancelled just before intermission.

As thousands of attendees made their way back toward their vehicles, something unexpected happened. People began singing “Home on the Range,” traditionally the closing song of the event each year.

It wasn’t the ending anyone had planned, but somehow it felt fitting.

Weather had always been part of the story of the Flint Hills.

In the years that followed, the art auction continued to grow. The final years featured the largest offerings in the event’s history. In the final Symphony in the Flint Hills art auction, 94 works were offered and 90% found buyers.

There was a sense that people wanted to celebrate and support one final season of an organization that had meant so much to so many.

No More White Flags on the Horizon

This year felt different.

This wasn’t the first year the event had been cancelled.

It was the first year there was no expectation that it would return.

For the first time in many years, there were no white flags on the horizon marking the way to a pasture somewhere in the Flint Hills.

No wristbands to pick up.

No obligatory selfie of Stacey and me in front of the Symphony in the Flint Hills banner.

No conversations with ranchers in the educational tents.

No cowboy poets sharing stories at the end of the day.

No fresh cookies waiting in the patron tent during intermission.

No cattle drive moving across the prairie behind the stage.

No walk back to the car after a long day in the Kansas sun.

No day in the country.

Looking back, I think that’s what made Symphony in the Flint Hills so special.

The event itself was wonderful, but it was really hundreds of smaller experiences woven together. Each one became part of a tradition. After enough years, those traditions became something you looked forward to without even realizing it.

There was always a strange feeling of being both important and anonymous at the same time. We were sponsors, patrons, partners, and participants. Yet we were also just two people among thousands who had gathered to enjoy a remarkable place.

One of my favorite memories was simply standing in the prairie and listening.

The wind blowing through the tall grass always reminded me of standing on a beach at the ocean. Instead of waves of water, there were waves of grass moving across the landscape. Even the sound was remarkably similar.

When people ask what made Symphony in the Flint Hills special, I usually think about the music, the artists, the volunteers, and the conservation work.

But if I’m honest, I think about the prairie first.

I think about the quiet.

I think about the wind.

Looking back, I’m grateful that Stacey raised her paddle that day.

What began as a winning bid became one of the most meaningful traditions in our lives and one of the most rewarding partnerships in the history of KC Auction Company.

Symphony in the Flint Hills became part of our story.

It became part of our company.

And somewhere along the way, it became part of me.