If you missed it, here's my Q&A with photographer Austin Young at KotoriMagazine.com
Hoping that one day I can have a portrait done of me; I will once again dye my hair candy bright red and dig out my red sparkle-tranny false eyelashes just for the occasion too!
The blog tagging has happened, Erie Effusion tagged me with a list of Seven Amazing Facts About Me (that maybe you knew or didn't).....
1. I used to be a really good horseback rider, but I haven't been on one since I was about 14. I wanted to be a jockey because I like going fast, but was told by age 11, I was already too tall for the job. I can clean 'em, dress 'em, and ride them over a high jump. When horses get spooked and take off I find it fun; I only got thrown once and it took him a lot of effort to do so.
2. I used to play piano, violin, and speak Russian; then I hit puberty, became a boy-crazy punk, and promptly forgot how to do all three.
3. In recent years I have become a beer snob and am disgusted with myself for having gone through a King Cobra phase in college.
4. I've driven cross-country twice, and taken a Greyhound Bus cross-country twice. The bus was interesting to say the least. People form strange alliances and cliques (the European tourists and single mothers w/ babies always flocked to me as a protector for some reason) while massive amounts of weed gets smoked in the bus bathroom. Just remember to bring a tooth brush, and a flask.
5. I know way too many useless facts about old Hollywood and pre-code cinema. It was fun living in a former Hollywood hotel for this reason, but also sad, because you could feel the sense of dispair and failure from the industry chewing up and spitting out young hopefuls throughout the decades.
6. I hate fiction, I only like reading biographies or history books. I like reading about stuff that actually happened.
7. The first art sale I ever had was when I was about 7 years-old. It was a big poster sized drawing of my white standard poodle, Pushkin. Pushkin liked to sneak up from behind, wrap his arms around your waist, and hump people a lot. So I did a picture of him on his hind legs with a big boner, and big script that said, "Pushkin The Sex Dog". A friend of the family bought it and still has it to this day. That thing is going to be in a museum after I'm dead -- you watch.
tagging: Josh, Shannon, Nancy B, Dott, Benji
Everything is on hold right now. Finally after years of ignoring the fact my wisdom teeth were grinding against my jaw bone, the pain has become so unbearable that I have scheduled surgery. The bad part? I don't get in until April 2nd! So my "drying out" plan for March is no longer, plus I find it impossible to paint anything or function like a normal human being. I accidentally bought a $60 bottle of wine yesterday; no more grocery shopping while on pain meds is the new rule. The fact I keep eyeballing my wrench, pliers, and bottle of Jim Beam is not good. All I need are lots of paper towels, right?
This has made me finally admit to myself that I enjoy dental pain and procedures. I'm not really a person who is "in to pain" but for whatever reason since I was a child, a trip to the dentist never bothered me. It was always commented on how calm I was or how I seemed to enjoy it. Even now they are surprised, heck, I even modeled for my dentist's website once since I was the only person to give a cheery thumbs-up with a mouth full of metal tools and cotton balls. The bill is the only truly painful part -- I've spent thousands on two teeth alone over the years -- the rest I take with ease. Why do I love novocaine shots? I don't know. I hate regular shots in the arm, but I like needles going into my gums with a gross taste. The drill is fun too, and so are crowns -- like getting a new tooth almost. Crown prices however, are not so fun. For years I heard about this horrid root canal procedure; I finally had it done after my dentist fucked up my filling and made it too deep. Afterward I said, "you are done already?" and to the horror of the nurses I said, "You know, I could have sat through 4 more of those before getting irritated with you, come on is that all you got!?"
And so it is that I sit here wishing I were dead or could remove my jaw, but at the same time I am giddy and excited about having a big nasty surgery and getting these suckers ripped out. I have come to terms with the fact, that I, am this man.
I was going to post my own little list, but this article from Art Marketing does it so well.
The subject of showing up to your own opening has come up recently; a lovely gallery owner here in Cleveland actually had to have a meeting with various artists about the fact that, "hey, you should come to your own opening, because when people buy your art, sometimes they wanna meet you!" I believe she got a clueless 'ry dunno raggy' Scooby-Doo reaction to this statement.
I can't tell you how many artists show up fashionably late to their own openings, and guess what? It isn't cute. Not long ago I was in a group show of about 20 artists in the area: I was the only artist there for a good 15-20 minutes! One thing I've learned is that when I've sold work, or others have sold work, it happens either right before the show or within the first half-hour. I've seen buyers come to shows only to buy something and wait around for the artist who never shows up. These are people usually on their way to dinner or another engagement, and have stopped in on-time -- even early -- because they wanted to get a piece before anyone else did. Do you think they are going to wait around forever for the artist to arrive 45 minutes later when they have plans of their own? Not bloody likely. Not being present at all the receptions around the country I do has hurt me; not being able to network and meet other artists, gallery owners, collectors, but it is a case where it can't be helped. I'm not an artist who can afford to fly around the country for every group show I am in. However, if you live in the city where your art is being shown or can drive there within reason, you have no excuse.
This is a subject dear to me because I am a ridiculously punctual person. I believe one person referred to me as a"nazi" when it came to being punctual. Where I get this from I have no idea, but when people are constantly late or give no to regard to being on-time, I take that as a sort of, "I don't care and screw you". One of the reasons I broke up with a boyfriend was him being chronically late for everything and there was no reason for it, I've even ended some friendships, it got that annoying. I find it funny that cell phones and devices have done nothing to correct this in most people's lives -- it has actually been made worse!
So when you are late for a reception that you are in, or don't show up period, your potential clientele take that as a sort of "I don't give a shit" action. Well, if you don't care, why should anyone?
