I want to know what is wrong with me. Last night I went to a dinner for this prestigious Art Magazine. They had this big fundraiser and I was asked to contribute some works. I was asked to create a special project for them, to lend my name and my talent to them and help them. Of course I said YES. I did this project and I was told how wonderful I am by all of the staff. I went to a huge cocktail party and I was asked to stay on for the exclusive dinner part of the program as “thanks” for lending my help. Throughout the evening I was told how great the project turned out by so many of the guests.
There at the dinner was this art dealer who once shunned me, and whom I had hopped would give me time of day now that she saw me there in this new light. WELL. I could not have been more mistaken. There I sat at a table for the guests whom had contributed their sweat. This art dealer came and greeted every other artist at the table but seemed to make a point of avoiding me and then, later in the same evening, when I said “Hello” in passing, was so physically bothered by this that my wife commented that I must have done something to have offended her. I must have done something. I mean, I have no fucking clue what I could have done, but I must have done something to bother this woman when all that I have tried to do was to be the kind of artist who made the kind of work that this woman would want to sell; to be the kind of artist she would find irresistible and want to associate herself with. Instead, I have alienated myself from her with that being the total opposite effect of what it was that I really wanted to achieve. I just want to know what the fuck is wrong with me. How come I am so bad at what it is that I want to be good at and why is it that I am so fucking good at being terrible at what it is that I want so badly to do well.
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9 comments:
David--ask her directly what's up. why speculate and drive yourself crazy.
good luck,
leigh wt
David - I was going to suggest the same thing Leigh did, and also say that maybe it's her problem and not you! She may have her own movie running in her mind that has nothing to do with you, except you are the collateral damage.
i thoroughly enjoy your posts, the degree to which you are able to look unflinchingly at your past & present selves.
i'm a poet by calling & profession & recognize the dance between artistic integrity / freedon & the desire for validation in the gallery & marketplace.
your artwork is wry & compelling - ever forward...
David, my dear, forget her. What you describe is bad manners. On her part, not yours. Don't take on her shit. And don't give her too much brain or air time just because she's a dealer. Dealer or no dealer, she scores low on emotional maturity-o-metre and, frankly, I don't care what job someone has, integrity is not attached to title, it comes from behaviour that his compassionate, honest, open and responsible. She demonstrated none of these.
Liz-
Thanks. You know how I like these cathartic entries on the ol' blog. I have moved on soon after I hit SEND.
But I do think it is amazing that people get to act like fucking Jr. high schoolers in this profession. Maybe office politics suck all over,
but somehow I had much higher hopes for the art world when I signed on.
All the best, DK
one question: were you wearing the Old Spice cologne again? It would explain everything.
David, David, David. Who knows what that dealer is all about. It's not worth your energy. There are so many other people that believe in your work. As my husband once said, " Dealers are the parasites of the art world and it is the artists that really matter." OK - it was said in a incredibly drunken stupor, but considering who he is - it is worth holding onto. We miss you.
Art dealers are foolish by nature.
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