Welcome to my inaugural blog entry from the fair state of Virginia. See what I did there - "inaugural" - playing on the "inauguration" concept in honor of my DC area relocation? I know, brilliant, right?
Blogging music is a mix on my I-pod shuffle, so I can't really mention anything specific - except that the latest album by The Sounds is on there, as well as some current stuff by Ida Maria and White Lies. Beyond that, everything from Buddy Holly to The Pixies will be part of today's session.
I'm sitting in a cafe right now in Alexandria, VA called Buzz. Very tasty breakfast items and a fantastic tea list, which is helpful to those of us who don't drink coffee. It's only about 5 minutes from my friend's Rachael's place and I stopped here when I was in town last time for my interview. But, they kinda have this weird issue with Wi-Fi access on the weekends - anyone who wants it has to sit at this long, table in the center of the cafe. As a result everyone's kinda on top of each other, which I'm not a very big fan of. I have a trace of claustrophobia in my genetic make up, and this is the kinda stuff that drives me a little crazy. Note to self: find a different spot for weekend blogging. But there is some comic relief - the woman across from me has a sticker on her computer that says "Can't Sleep - Clowns Will Eat Me." Good stuff.
The other day, I was reminded me of something that happened to me near the beginning of my professional art career and I thought I would share it with you all.
My first feature show as a professional artist was at a gallery in the Wicker Park neighborhood of Chicago. At that time, the area was still a little rough around the edges and consisted of a few quality restaurants, some up and coming galleries and artists' studios. One of the largest art festivals in Chicago called "Around the Coyote" was staged in the middle of this neighborhood - and it continues to this day.
Anyway, this feature show was in a gallery inside the Flat Iron Building, where many of the artist's studios were located (not to be confused with the Flatiron Building in NYC). The piece I was showing was narrative work I created while in art school, and the gallery owner was very complimentary. He gave it a nice spot in the gallery and at that point, I knew my career had officially begun. But, my plans were to start here - gain some experience and use this as a stepping stone for other things. So, after a year or two, I moved on from the Wicker Park scene.
Some time later, I decided to drop by the Flat Iron Building for a visit. The area was changing so quickly, and I wanted to see if I still knew anyone there, and if so, what everyone was up to. As I walked through the hallways of this dark cavernous building, I saw folks I recognized, except this time, they were scowling at me. Confused, I wound my way over to the gallery where I had my feature show a couple years earlier. The director looked at me intently for a second, walked slowly over to me, reluctantly shook my hand and said in this very snotty tone: "So, are you a famous artist yet?"
It became clear that I was being shunned by this community for daring to have aspirations beyond their starving artist lifestyle. In their eyes, I was a traitor who used them for my own personal gain and dumped them when I no longer needed them. The thing is, they weren't entirely wrong. My plans involved galleries with freshly painted walls, windows and money to promote themselves (and me). But, I needed to walk before I could run and I felt a connection to these beginnings and the people that gave a 21 year old newbie a chance. I foolishly thought they would be happy for me. Lessons learned through naivety can be hard to swallow, and I walked out of that building for the last time a little bit wiser, but knowing that if I had it do all over again, I wouldn't have changed a thing.
Today's visual stimulation comes courtesy of Mercantile Home, the gallery of Mr. Ken Jones Jr. I decided to post a little something different today- fiber art - which I know is a first for this blog. I admire the skill of fiber artists, but it isn't usually my thing. However, when I saw the work of Anneke Herrold, I was pretty damn intrigued. The below piece shows 1/2 of a box that has been hand-felted using fiber collage. The other 1/2 is painted, and the diptychs that she creates using these two processes are quite unique. Her materials combined with the small scale she works in creates a very intimate experience I think.
New job starts tomorrow. Wish me luck!
-Marc
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