DER TRAUM

I went out to a slew of art openings in Pilsen's art district last night. There's so much bad art out there it shocked me. I mean, this is supposed to be the hot art district in Chicago, and it's a bunch of crap. I finally saw some good stuff up in the Fountainhead Lofts building; some very moving conceptual art at Within(Reason). I spoke with the owner for a bit and he seems like a super nice guy, too.

I also spoke at length with another artist who had a studio in the building, Angela Komperda. She was cooking her dinner and sitting on her window ledge, watching the people below (dinner smelled good). Her studio was her home, just like me, and had big gallon sized cans of enamel and canvases all over the place. I felt kinda like I was at home, except it wasn't my home. She was from Ohio, she told me, and had only been in Chicago for two years. We talked about painting and travel and art. I'll have to go visit her again some time; it's not often that I meet a fellow female painter who's as serious about their work as I am. Most painters are of the "every few months" variety where it's really more of a hobby amongst hobbies rather than a second full-time job. And I'm not saying that's bad, to keep art at arms length. It means you're busy meeting up with friends or going to movies or doing family stuff or work stuff or watching TV. And there's nothing wrong with that. But it does mean that your work is not going to evolve at a quick enough pace to become as good as it can be.

Went home, got dressed up and headed out to Neo for some dancing. The girl L who was calling me 4 times a day every day a couple months back showed up and pretended not to see me. Then, after she'd had a couple drinks she came over and started talking to me like I was her best friend. I shook my head. "No, L. I'm sorry. You overstepped my boundaries and abused my friendship. I don't want to talk to you." Which may sound harsh, but the girl isn't very smart and really does need things spelled out. "Well, if you didn't want me calling all the time you could have told me!" she countered. But I HAD told her.

She's one of those people who seems to attract drama to her like a magnet, and she's far too needy to have acquaintances, for her it's all or nothing. "I can't be the sort of friend you need," I told her, and she stormed off. It was like she hung up the phone, but in real life.

Good riddance. Honestly. I have a full time job, I paint, I have a boyfriend, and I already have a ton of friends, none of whom make overly taxing demands of my time or emotions. I have no time for drama.

So lately I've been asked by some friends to paint pictures for them. And I am going to do this for the one friend, because I really want to do this for her. She's a very close friend, and I can make an exception for her. I'll have to break style and go back to doing figural work for the piece, but I can do it this one time.

But the the other friend I'm going to have to tell no. I already waste 40 hours of my life every damn week whoring out my talents to big corporations, so when I get home and get to paint it needs to be a painting of something I LOVE, something I'm passionate about. It has nothing to do with money, because I already make plenty. People think, "she's an artist, she'll just want to do this for me because she likes to paint!" But actually, NO. Painting is just what I have to do to make my ideas come to life. It is not very fun to breathe in fumes and hover over a canvas all day with aching shoulders and back. I do it because it is what I need to do to create my art.

Painting is not art. Anybody can paint. Paint a wall, paint a fence, paint a house.

I need to create my OWN art, the stuff I love, and not be other people's mechanism for creating what THEY love.

So no more commissions.

It's nearing Halloween, so I thought I'd brush the dust off Phantasmagorical, an interactive art piece I did long ago.

They are romantic, and so serene.

I don't like the paper I'm using. It doesn't go well with the charcoal, although it holds the paint well. I should get some bristol board.

The big one looks out for the little one. They are a team.

Now you can finally see what all that toilet paper was about:

Respire (6:37min)
A woman is overcome by bathroom tissue (mucus) and wears a gas mask (asthma) while trying desperately to open her windows and unclog pipes so she can breathe easily once more.

This is part of a sequence I did for one of my college photography classes twelve years ago. That's me with the axe, and jkretch at the wheel).

I got out of the house around 2pm and wandered around downtown for a while. The city was overwhelmed by people out enjoying the first day of warm spring weather. People walked in groups talking loudly, or they walked alone and talked loudly into their cell phones. I enjoyed the sun and the warmth, but I could do without the herds of loud talkers.

I wandered into the Museum of Contemporary Art and checked out the Rudolf Stingel exhibit. The woman who sold me my ticket was rude, and then as I was viewing the exhibit, a security guard snapped at me because I had inadvertently stepped over a very faint line drawn on the floor in front one of the pieces. I hadn't noticed the line on the ground, but the woman barked at me as though I'd done it just to piss her off.

I don't like art museum security guards. I feel like they're suspicious of me, just waiting for me to try to throw a painting or two in my bag.



Four great things about today:
1. The sun came out and scared away Mr. Snow.
2. I got to wear my scandalously short skirt.
3. I baked a nice loaf of bread.
4. I got to see some good contemporary art.

Four rotten things about today:
1. Too many people walking in loud, uncontrolled herds downtown.
2. Being forced to come home sooner than I wanted to because I had to get the bread in the oven.
3. Not getting out of the house until 2pm.
4. A security guard yelled at me.