Today is a disappointment day. One of the psychics on-line gave me the heads-up on the solo show. It's a thumbs down and some has to do with a creepy guy nixing it because he's jealous of my training and experience. And what little talent I have. And the rest has to do with three bad paintings among the ten. I just didn't have enough work that I hadn't shown there. I was just looking at two artists work on here who are way more talented than I ever was. I don't like the scary themes on their work, but they can really paint. We can't all be wonderfully talented. I'm grateful I can paint and that I do what I do. I can be second-rate but that rating goes down into the hundreds. There's so much crap on-line, all over. People who can't paint a human being to save their lives, but think they're artists, and who am I to say they're not. I guess I am, but it's mean and I wouldn't say it to them. And at the art center! JeeZ, they have no idea! Amazing the crap to which they give awards. (I went to visit last week. The good stuff won nothing. There really was some amateurish work up and two won awards.) I sound like a snob and I don't like it.
All my life I wanted to be noticed, to be respected. Very recently, after only sixty-four years, I realized I like myself. I respect myself and I'd love to have a friend like me. I'd still like my artwork to be shown and to sell some. It piles up. It does sell, which is nice. Usually, I know what's gonna sell. Prices have a lot to do with it. If people can afford the piece and they want it, it's gone. No controversy there. I can paint some attractive paintings. I like them! but I don't like them all. The remedy for that is to paint over the ones I don't like until eventually, I paint one I like. Then, I hang it, sell it, or give it away, usually to our kids. I'm still hurting today. It feels like an emotional kick in the gut. In about 15 minutes, Harry and I will go off for dinner and drinks. That should cure what ails me, or maybe just tomorrow.
All my life I wanted to be noticed, to be respected. Very recently, after only sixty-four years, I realized I like myself. I respect myself and I'd love to have a friend like me. I'd still like my artwork to be shown and to sell some. It piles up. It does sell, which is nice. Usually, I know what's gonna sell. Prices have a lot to do with it. If people can afford the piece and they want it, it's gone. No controversy there. I can paint some attractive paintings. I like them! but I don't like them all. The remedy for that is to paint over the ones I don't like until eventually, I paint one I like. Then, I hang it, sell it, or give it away, usually to our kids. I'm still hurting today. It feels like an emotional kick in the gut. In about 15 minutes, Harry and I will go off for dinner and drinks. That should cure what ails me, or maybe just tomorrow.
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