Reality. Something we all face. It can be great and it can slap you in the face. Or be a movie you watched way too many times in high school and though was the next best thing to sliced bread. Today has been a wonderfully surreal dose of it. 

reality bites

Tonight I realized I have become some version of cville I used to both make fun of and be a bit envious of. It was late in the afternoon and I had to drop off some work for a show I am in that opens tomorrow -- Pussy Grabs Back at the IX Art Park here in Charlottesville, all proceeds will go to benefit planned parenthood. I will have two pieces in it. This is great timing as I feel that Möbius Keramikk is coming together and ready for lift off.  The Nasty Woman show tomorrow and an event for GenR I have donated work to and will be attending- are acting as my coming out ball. My version of ruffles and a parasols is a nice veneer of porcelain slip. I am excited! Anyway, I had to drop off work, so of course I bring my laptop and think coffee. So there I am on a beautiful sunny warm Friday afternoon sitting in Mudhouse editing photos with photoshop drinking coffee eating a cookie listening to good music until 6:45 when I need to head to UVA's French Film Festival to see the movie Reality and take part in a discussion while running into a friend in the meantime. Whoa. 

And then I saw the movie. Double whoa. It was fantastic. A slap in the face, a shot of something, a kick somewhere, and a bunch of mirrors each with a door that shows a door inside a door inside a different door and so on. It was some cinematic version of the black lodge, the midget dancing, Philip Glass, and lets throw in some Abramovic. It was great. So many doors to open so many circles to loop through again and again and again. It makes me think of last Sunday which was such a gift! This was another one. I don't know which loops I will end up choosing, except for the current one I am entering into: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency and a german shepherd to play with. Did I mention that yes, there are fish in the percolator? 


Christina Osheim