if you want to ride, don’t ride the white horse
i dreamt i was flying over chinese architecture, but it was painted black and red. there were black buddhas on the rooftops, like gargoyles. i wondered where we were. ryan said, “this is hell.” the plane crashed.
today i ate again at the DIA cafe with laura and jordan. the salad cost me 9 dollars, with my discount, because you have to weigh the damn thing. it’s strange to think i ate two pounds of salad. we talked about how we have our “evil CCS selves” as a counterpart to our every day lives. an outsider could not possibly understand the ridiculous amounts of pressure and tremendous amount of work and time that goes into that place. i am slowly growing accustomed to the idea of doing nothing but creating art. nothing else. i don’t even have time to eat usually. forget sleep, who needs that?
my drawing of ryan and pierre was submitted to be in the juried student show. my teacher said she would miss me, which was sweet. i am to remember to draw as though i am enveloping forms with plastic wrap, or saran wrap. i am also not to forget how important gesture drawing is. i saw her drawings on television yesterday night. she is a courtroom artist, an emmy-award winning artist at that. i told her i want to be a painter. she said, “oh, that’s hard. well what are you going to do for a living? i bet you haven’t thought of that yet.” i have considered that, but i don’t have an answer. if i had an answer to that, i wouldn’t be a retail-robot-zombie.
it’s as though society has damned the artist. if you want to sit around drawing and painting all day, well that’s just fine but there’s no way in hell you can support yourself unless you do some outrageous shit to promote yourself.
