A Reseasonable Rant

 

Above, a work in progress "Long Suffering Artist" a tribute to all of us artists; "We don't get no respect!" I know there is a popular myth that many people share: artists are just laying about, drinking martinis and absinthe before noon and then sleeping with their models. Artists are always whining and complaining while living a life of indolence and self pity. And artist have it so easy: all they have to do is smear some stupid colors all over a canvas and indulge their juvenile fantasies and then wonder why they're perpetually misunderstood.

In reality, most artists that I know are diligent hard-working, thick-skinned individuals that ask little but are treated like shit in return. We are constantly being harangued into schlepping our work all over kingdom come in the off-chance that the "opportunity" is worth it and some collector/curator/art world celebrity will perhaps throw a glance in the direction of our work. (Often poorly hung by a fire extinguisher or exit sign.) We're also endlessly being asked to donate to some good cause. (*1) Typically that "good cause" is for the self-serving non-profit organization (*2) asking for the donation; as in, "We're having a fundraiser and we're asking YOU to donate a work. And then you can pay another $75 (or $100 or $150) to attend the fundraiser". What a great deal!

I also have to point out the "thick-skinned" aspect of my above piece. Artists have to cultivate  thick skin so all the undeserved criticism they hear can just bounce off. Rejection, rejection and more rejection! And some how, the poor artist has to keep smiling and working and believing in themselves. Try doing this for fifty or sixty years! Even bad real estate agents (or dentists or mailmen) get paid! Everybody's got an opinion...

Anyway, I'm ranting today as I've just been asked to jump through a few too many hoops. I'm tired of being "carroted and stick-ed" with the observation that, "There will be lots of publicity!" or "The exposure will be good!" Ha! Usually, there's just the deafening silence of the void, staring back at you. And the worst part is that I feel a hypocrite as I am so terrified of not getting recognized that I make bad equations and play along. I am an art whore. I am embarrassed to admit that I am contemplating making an entirely new piece for a show (that I might not even get accepted to) that I only have three weeks to complete as it has to be a specific size... and it's not small! (*3) 

What's an artist to do?!?!?

(*1) Yes some are legit- like to raise money for a food bank or Ukrainian refugees. That I (and most artists) gladly do... and often.

(*2) We have a friend who said that people join boards of non-profits to get a parking space for their BMW's. Seems right to me!

(*3) Don't even get me going on "themed shows" where the work has to be about some inane thing I would never contemplate creating work about...All artists have at least a flat-file drawer full of work created for a theme that they're stuck with.

April Fools!

 

Yes, a few days early for the first of April, but there was snow this week- after having sunny, sixty degree days. Gotta love the weather.

Today may be April Fool's Day but I think I accidentally celebrated yesterday. Maybe I started off on the wrong foot, thinking it was April 1st and thinking to be oh-so-clever, I pranked our poor doggie Robin the Good by putting only a single piece of dog kibble in her bowl for breakfast. She looked at me with a truly withering "oh you're SO funny" look; I hastily replenished her bowl! I then discovered that it was actually March 31st, so the "joke" was on me.

(Above, long-suffering dog who tolerates my sometimes not very funny antics. She must wonder how she wound up in a household like this!)

So the bigger joke of the day was that Mr. Coffee had "shit the bed" so to speak, and was refusing to produce caffeinated brown water to fuel our day. Bob resorted to making coffee with a Melittta filter that we had but we both realized we needed a new machine. We researched on line and were surprised to see that plain old non-electronically equipped Mr. Coffee makers were surprisingly hard to come by. We could order one, but then we'd have to wait a week or so for delivery. (I'm assuming it's the old "supply chain" excuse is to blame.) But then I thought to try our brand new, giant TrueValue hardware store. On line it announced they did indeed have what we wanted, and we even had a $5 off coupon. 

Additionally, my car key somehow had become bent (still usable, but it had a weird cant to the left) Bob had been urging me to take his key and get a copy made. I thought I was so smart: I'd get two things done at one place. I gathered my bag and sunglasses and Bob's key and went out to the car. I even remembered the coupon!

As I entered the car, bending over to place my handbag on the passenger seat, I heard a quiet- but distinct- tink! The sound of something falling and hitting something metal... Bob's key! It had escaped from my hand and landed somewhere in the center of the car. I will not strain your patience with how- for the next twenty minutes- I reached beneath every crevasse between the seats, under the carpets; I looked everywhere. I finally gave up, knowing the key was somewhere in the car but mysteriously hidden. 

 I made it safely to the hardware store where a nice young man looked fruitlessly through several thousand blank keys only to inform me that they really were having trouble getting old blanks for Hondas, Toyotas and Accuras. He came up empty handed but helpfully offered to straighten my key out. Having not succeeded at one task, I then inquired where they kept the coffee makers. Of course, there were no simple white Mr. Coffee machines. Only elaborate, expensive, technologically-driven contraptions with all the bells and whistles were in stock. I ordered one; it's supposed to come next Monday but do we believe this?

I then proceeded to another hardware store(where I sometimes buy horse food) and they also looked dubious when I presented my key. Apparently, Trusty the Accord really is an antique (1997) and key blanks of ancient times are had to come by. Fortunately, the "gentleman" (*1) who waited on me was able to find a blank similar enough to make me not one but two!! new keys. I tried them, they worked so all's well that ends well. 

I tried two other local stores... do you think anyone would have a simple 12 cup coffee maker? Nooo! But at least I had three car keys, and a Mr. Coffee on order. When I arrived home and told Bob of my morning frustrations, he went out to the car and it took him all of three seconds to determine that his key had fallen into the tiny slit by the side of the emergency brake. We now have no coffee maker and four car keys...

(*1) The particular employee at this hardware store is not one I'm ever happy to have wait on me. He is a religious-maniac, gun-toting weirdo. He once harangued Bob and I for a good twenty minutes in the parking lot as to why the 2nd Amendment is next to godliness or some such quackery. I try to avoid him since this encounter even though he tries to be especially deferential and helpful- probably becasue we could have complained to his boss about his unwelcome proselytizing and gotten him fired.