First blog problems...
Sometimes I crack myself up too much. How nerdy can I go? It's the art geek version of limbo. The bar has yet to be placed at a height I cannot reach. And then you think art geek. limbo. metaphor. and the bar just shifted again!!! I guess I could spend today's blog thinking of bad double entendre's, metaphors, euphemisms, allegories, fabrications, jokes, and exaggerated stories on nothing really in particular. Maybe that is what the whole point of a blog is anyway? How to write funny crap about crap that is sometimes funnier and sometimes not funny at all. Who knows?!? Cranbrook taught me art speak not blog speak. That my local drugstores literature aisle has to thank: "Blogging for Dummies," "Chicken Soup for the Blogger," & my personal favorite "How to not throw your computer out the window AS the blog post with the rational it is performance art."
Aka, I am not quite sure what to write about. I think that horse has gone beyond eviscerated. Beautiful day, check! Granny firing, check! PVCC class attended, check! Jazz shoes worn, check! Kickass moon round 2, check! Work wet sanded, check! Much food for easy breezy blogging. But inspiration still eludes me. Or is it allude. Or to really frustrate me is it both?!? I looked it up and elude is actually what I intended, but I think allude a nice addition to the quandary I face--- just around the corner...
I ran into my old art teacher, Judy McLeod. Both my brother and I had her when we were very young. I went to an opening and ran into her talking to my parents. She remembered me and threw her and the McGuffy's arms around me. It was really cool! I visited her studio earlier today and she is doing what she can to introduce me to people at McGuffy and ideally getting space there. I also met with the gallery director at IX Art here in Charlottesville earlier today talking about spaces and people in town to talk to about volunteer work I am doing for the IRC trying to get some art classes going.
And there i did it. Not so subtly deflect from the gist, or central core, or what is at the front of my mind. This shit is happening. It is real. It is moving. I am so excited but also scared. Not anxiety ridden scared, just scared. I can picture it. I can picture what my life could become if these things work out. It is my dream. And it is within touching distance. That is it right there. I'm so afraid I will sneeze and wake up. I'll be Rip Van Winkle. Or that I will undermine myself. It seems to good to maybe be possible even just a little bit. Nononononono. cannot happen. nope. nope. and then drink again, or take on some other substance to make me not me and have this fall apart. I'd say I should re-read Chinua Achebe's Things Fall Apart, but I do not want to. That is also why I am thankful to have my ever listening/never listening web-tender to pour my heart and soul to. Want another it asks? I nod and click my mouse.
A lady at the desk at McGuffy looked at my work and said "OF COURSE YOU"LL GET IN!" and I had to say, I may, I may not. I choose not to celebrate until I know if I am in and if so to what extent. I don't want to became an asshole who assumes that doors will open solely because I have worked hard and have a good pedigree. But then isn't that also reason why they SHOULD open? Good lord, what a mind duck.
I have said this before to Mac, my local blog-tender. The past year I have done so many things I have not wanted to and have been scared of. None of them have killed me yet and all were easier and much less scary once I ripped that band aid off. And I am far better off for having done it. So Christina, go forth and apply! It feels right. What will be will be. But nothing will be if you don't ask for something.
So to end on a note of humor and a push off the blog stool: Professional photos I just uploaded onto my laptop to send off to the ethernet's art fair application field. (and a trip to the local dirt farm with my dad yesterda
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Gulps and Grips Procreate