Correction: I am not part of a new gallery, the new gallery I am not part of isn’t going to be on Larkin Street, and there most definitely isn’t going to be a show in February.
Anyone need twenty-four framed cityscapes ?
Friends, family, Nigerian spam robots: it is to you, my scarce and scattered and readership that I now make a confession. While I have been busy in these pages attempting to seduce you with anodyne images of Northern California that you may or may not have noted in passing , I have also been secretly at work planning something big.
Let me first beg you to please not feel betrayed by the belated nature of this revelation, for it was only in the most pressing interests of self-respect that I kept this matter quiet even to you, my most devoted online readership. (I hope you know who you are.)
What the hell am I talking about, you ask as usual?
Well, basically I recently came across my big chance in the art world. This felt like the chance I have been waiting for, I think. It all had something to do with a city fence, a big-time call for temporary art, and the changing Mission Bay community of San Francisco. Now not only have I been at work for the last four years doing things such as creating art about the changing Mission Bay community entitled Temporary Spaces, but I also took the time to put together and submit a bulletproof proposal for what I think is a truly exciting project. This vague recap probably doesn’t explain anything, but I hope it at least it coveys a few good reasons why even up till Friday I felt enthusiastic and confident regarding this opportunity.
'Pieces are designed some months for passers-by to remove part of and take home. Other months, this area will be designed to contribute to:' not a popular idea.
I rallied my people, I did my absolute best, and without a doubt I put my strongest foot forward. That felt great. I am glad I did it. It moved me forward. Forward is my favorite direction.
Anyway, last Friday was supposed to be the big day and it turns out that the opportunity is not to be.
The bad part is that in the end my best wasn’t good enough.
Yeah… that part really sucks.
Oh well.
I’ll probably be over it after this weekend or this month or something.
I really don’t want to sound melodramatic or anything. There are incredible things going on in the world right now affecting the lives of millions and this thing was only about me. But as inconsequential and selfish as it ultimately was, I guess I really wanted this particular thing. Even though there will be other things this perfect. Some time in the future. Maybe.
Anyway, yes: I know this is how things go. I just thought I should mention it here, since this is my art archive-website-thing. Or something. Immense thanks to my four invaluable advisers: Erin, Z-mom, Montreal, and Julia H.
Open Studios weekend has come and gone. Aren’t you impressed with the power of my self promotion skills? Well, don’t feel that bad if you didn’t know about it or weren’t there. It was sort of a bad weekend for art. My memory of it will forever take the form of me sitting alone in a 15,000 square foot warehouse, competing with the Blue Angels and Burning Man Decompression for the attention of San Francisco. In other words, nothing is my fault ever.
On the positive side, the weekend was a welcome chance to hang up lots of work from the last year, create a bottomless wine and cheese plate and take stock of my practice. I think it looked good. It’s too bad you weren’t there, I was practically giving shit away. If you look closely, you can see my t-shirt rack!
While I was away this summer I received an email that looked something like this:
Translation: your workspace is gone. This is just kind of how CELLspace works operates and that’s okay. I took the opportunity to move my whole screen printing operation from the upstairs former craft loft to my downstairs studio . Space is a lot tighter but if I open both doors and suck in my stomach it still works. And I have really been enjoying coming to CELL during the long summer afternoons, working while the warehouse is sunny and artists are doing their thing. Here is the new setup.
So the art opening for the 24th Street project isn’t on March 5th anymore. Actually, I think the art opening for the 24th Street project isn’t happening anymore. Luckily, aside from feather2pixel’s five loyal readers who were expecting free booze and sandwiches, I anticipate next to nobody will care. I’ll just have to get the next round for you guys. If it was my space and I had my way, then there would be an art opening for the 24th Street project. Every day. But it is not and that is okay.
Regardless, beginning next week, the art will be open to the public until the end of time. Or at least for as long as combination locally sourced gourmet sandwich shops/patisseries remain financially solvent in the Mission District. And hopefully that is a long long time.
In the meantime, you have to check out my Twitter debut! From the Local Mission Eatery account, this is me in the space, rounding corners of the 360 blank art wall tiles. I have finally become the modern man I knew I could be.
I can now proudly say that I was witness to the lowest scoring first half of the shot clock era.
So after the screen printing area at Cellspace was ransacked by a former employee (once upon a time Cellspace had employees), I was given the opportunity to put my woodworking skills to the test. The test in question was successfully building a new lightbox with which to expose screens, about a one half on the carpentry difficulty scale from one to ten, and I am ashamed to say that I could barely manage it.
USA Today was the talk around campus today. Vallejo made the front page because we’re broke.
This show on Friday night made me realize what all awful stand up comedy has in common: it makes you feel like you are in Los Angeles.
I want my fucking $29 back.
Well that lasted a good four months:
I accidentally pulled out my favorite hair last yesterday. Even though it was right in front, the hair in question managed to survive several rounds of haircuts and I admired its perseverance. And since I haven’t cut any of my hairs in almost eight months it’s not surprising that this one was almost eight inches long. I am sad.
How long do you think I can survive off crumbs? I still say mid-March.
