Last night I attended the opening of a group show in the DC area. My artist neighbor was in the show, which was my reason for going. I wanted to support her, and give my blessing to this gallery/money making venture.
I'd never clicked with that particular gallery in it's previous incarnation - I and my work just didn't fit there. This was no different in those ways - and it was even clearer to me.
There was a ton of work on the walls and a ton of people at the opening. The work didn't look like me or reflect me on a deep level - though I had hoped I'd see something that would even make me jealous, if you can understand that. My favorites were my friend's soothing and beautiful landscapes, and another painter's big energetic colorful landscapes and portrait.
The people didn't look like me either. I am seriously looking at and getting some distance on what I call "this class thing." I'd say 90-95% of the visitors were dressed in a way that was supposed to be glamorous. Maybe it was. To me it was not. Something about the costume/uniform of "looking good" - guess I will speak more on that in another post, if I can relate it cleanly to ART.
Amazingly one woman appeared at the door to the gallery dressed in black and looking totally unpretentious. I was sure she was an artist, and close to me in age. She stood out, all in black like that.
Eventually I approached her and we had a real conversation and a real connection. What a lift!
The net result though was that I woke up feeling ill, and only recovered when I saw the work of Felix Angel at a gallery this morning. Complex collages that satisfied the mind and spirit, deep, thought provoking, nourishing.
Whew!
I'd never clicked with that particular gallery in it's previous incarnation - I and my work just didn't fit there. This was no different in those ways - and it was even clearer to me.
There was a ton of work on the walls and a ton of people at the opening. The work didn't look like me or reflect me on a deep level - though I had hoped I'd see something that would even make me jealous, if you can understand that. My favorites were my friend's soothing and beautiful landscapes, and another painter's big energetic colorful landscapes and portrait.
The people didn't look like me either. I am seriously looking at and getting some distance on what I call "this class thing." I'd say 90-95% of the visitors were dressed in a way that was supposed to be glamorous. Maybe it was. To me it was not. Something about the costume/uniform of "looking good" - guess I will speak more on that in another post, if I can relate it cleanly to ART.
Amazingly one woman appeared at the door to the gallery dressed in black and looking totally unpretentious. I was sure she was an artist, and close to me in age. She stood out, all in black like that.
Eventually I approached her and we had a real conversation and a real connection. What a lift!
The net result though was that I woke up feeling ill, and only recovered when I saw the work of Felix Angel at a gallery this morning. Complex collages that satisfied the mind and spirit, deep, thought provoking, nourishing.
Whew!
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