Here it is, the end of July, already. I was up at 6:00 this morning and realized that the sunrise was barely beginning to happen, meaning that fall approaches with its inevitably shorter days and whisperings of winter. I wish I didn't hate it so much.
The uppermost thought I have, while messing around in the studio, is the show in May. Can I possibly put out enough pieces by then that I really like--enough pieces to choose from--that will group well for an exhibition? In the wee small hours, when I wake up in the dark worring about this, I feel like the character in the fairy tale who was confined in the tower to make straw into gold. (She called on Rumplestiltskin who did the trick, you remember, and saved her hide.)
Agreeing to an exhibition is really stepping into the void and trusting that you will get firm footing and keep it. It's a great act of faith, or it's a most arrogant show of bravado imaginable.
We'll see. Sigh.
PW
Friday, July 24, 2009
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