My installation is up at the Quatro Cats Gallery….no I’ve not suddenly slipped back in time and become famous, the gallery owner named this one after the bar. I have taken photos but my digital camera is recharging it’s batteries before anyone who would like to gets a look at them.
I am glad it’s up, feel strangely accomplished and oddly satisfied. Even though it’s anti-war a vagina still managed to creep in…that kind of frustrates me as well as amusing me. I am more interested at the moment, artistically speaking, in the penis but aside from random scibbles and the promise of a friend back home to let me cast him nothing concrete is really emerging. Apparently I still have vagina’s to get out of my system.
It occured to me whilst I was arranging the thing, I want the others in the exhibition to at least consider my work worth their time but I really don’t care if they like it or not. Obviously it’s nice if they do, but it’s just stuff that I wanted to get out of my system and now it’s there. How much different could that be to my attitude about my writing?
Anyone is welcome to peer at my installations but as for my writing…well the guild get to see it and thats about it. I wonder why I’m quite so precious about my writing, I hate people to see it if I’m not absolutely convinced that it’s good enough. And I am never convinced of that, but my artwork…well….I wonder if it’s the five or so years education spent drumming into me that I wasn’t to be precious about my art? Probably…hmmm need to do something about my attitude to my writing or it’ll never see the light of day!