Tuesday, March 21, 2006

In which Ragnar get's giddy.

I’m afraid that if I start writing it will degenerate into a vituperative rant about my co-workers, oops too late now. I know that it’s not their fault that they are incompetent boobs, and that it is in fact due to Anita the Hut’s inferiority complex, that is that she only hires incompetent boobs because it makes her feel better about herself when they fuck up constantly. (and just what does that say about me?) Still I do get fed up with having every single order that comes across my desk lack some sort of vital information that makes it impossible for me to identify the product in question. Which in turn leads to an endless round of phone calls where in I feel like banging my head against my desk and the salesperson in question feels like I’m “picking” on them by requesting that they pull it together long enough to do their fucking job. I really have to get out of this place and get back to making art, either that or I will find myself stuck with some outlandish bill for therapeutic services rendered…or more likely an astronomical bar tab.

I’ve been thinking a lot about art lately because I haven’t been able to do nearly enough of it (it’s become a luxury that I can’t afford unless I have a paid commission…and isn’t that sad?). Our house has been in the process of destruction for the last year and a half, and we are about to begin the second stage of demolition, meaning that I have to find a new roof under which to store my various machines as well as my unruly stash of fabric. To that end I met with a man this morning who has some rather smallish (I think) rooms in a converted factory that he’s willing to rent me for some paltry, although to my broke ass, astronomical, sum. Wouldn’t it be exciting to have an actual studio? I feel like I might be jinxing it by bringing it up, but I’m really quite giddy about it. And I like the fact that the space is in an old factory and that my neighbors would not necessarily be other artists (not that I’m not terribly fond of other artists). There’s a granite monument company, a big machine shop, a trucking company, and a few other more artsy types as well…a nice mix of people. So that would be two big birds with one stone. The forcing myself back into art bird (after all one can’t pay paltry/astronomical sums for studio space and not use it), and the jumpstarting work on the house bird, since Manimal has promised that we can “gut” the downstairs after my sewing machine leaves. I love the word “gut.”

And here’s the scary thing about moving into a studio. It would be a “no yarn allowed” zone. All knitting related things would be banished to the “home” and only quilting and fiber art supplies would be allowed in the “studio.” Creepy huh?

If anyone knows how I can transform a .tif file into something that I can post on a blog I will put up some pictures of my quilts.

2 comments:

Imbrium said...

Oooh...an art studio in a factory. There's something terribly romantic yet gritty-urban-chic about that. Dreamy.

You should (heh) be able to open up a .tif file in any image viewer (Photoshop, Microsoft Paint, etc.) Then just save it as filename.jpg (or filename.gif if that's your preference.) Blogger should like that much better.

Atla said...

I was excited until I heard "no yarn allowed." Okay, I'm still excited for you! But can't you at least carry a sock for when you're lacking inspiration?


Anyhoo, yes, you're still the bad guy. We had a deal! Skull shrug pictures now! I shoulda known better than to make a deal with a pirate.