Just another popularity contest...

So. I know that I've been whining a lot lately about being busy, and my show, and being chained to my sewing machine like a child laborer in a Nike sweat shop, and that's got to be getting repetative so I will stop now. Instead I will whine about Art Shows, and application deadlines and how it's really unfair that I have to spend so much time fucking around with slides and cameras and how even though it should be about the quality of your artwork, it really isn't. It's about how good of a photographer you can hire to shoot your photos for you (in my case, I can't even afford to hire myself...) and who you know and and...okay sorry.

But really. I just spent a week, more or less, running hither and thither borrowing cameras and equipment that I have no idea how to use so that I can take photos that are going to be projected up on a wall for about 5 seconds in front of a jury of people who don't know me, and who don't care about me, but never the less are going to decide my fate. And all the other photos that get projected up onto that wall will have been taken by professionals that the other artists hired to make there shit look better than mine. It'll be like going to the prom in a dress made by my crazy blind aunt instead of one that was bought off the rack at the department store that I can't even afford to go in, let alone shop at. It'll be like highschool all over again, and they won't see that I'm a good person, they're just going to judge me by my appearance and they're all going to hate me. And, and, and, adding insult to injury, I have to pay application fees for every show I want to try for. It's like the lottery.

Uhm. Sorry again. Maybe I'm a little tense. Maybe I should take a pill.

It's really much nicer in person. This photo is a little gritty, although much nicer than it would have been had I been on my own. Thanks much to Hippy-Jen who came down to the gallery yesterday and spent 3 hours helping me figure out how to photograph things that are under glass so that you don't have weird reflections on them....and then, after I tortured her for three hours, she bought me dinner. Gosh it's nice to have friends who don't back away from you saying things like "Just calm down Ragnar, you survived High School, you'll get through this. Why don't you sit down here for a second while I get the nice men in the white coats to put you in that nice padded room."

Ragnar...30 year old high school reject