Last week was really rough... I had two or three bad days in the studio. And for those of you who don't know what a bad studio day entails, i would equate it to writers block, with a lot of self-loathing, and maybe a nap. Sometimes it's a day where I come in, take one look at the paintings I did the day before and either question what I thought I was doing and turn them toward the wall, or hastily destroy them.
Tonight, however I am up to eyeballs in art from the 70s; art movements, social climate, artists, the denial of the notion of institutionalize and consumerized art (i.e. galleries) and therefore the triumph over failure (which is elusive, I assure you). (takes a deep breath)....blaaaah. All this fun stuff on top of waitressing and pilate instructing...phew.
Let me leave you with this happy little tid bit:
I poured myself a nice glass of cheap sangria, and brought it to my bedroom with me, promising myself I could have it when I was done with my work for the night...I still haven't had a sip, and I've been sitting here for 2 and half hours. I am so sick of reading about feminist art.
One last happy little note: I haven't even skimmed the section entitled "The Personal and the Political". Apparently feminist art believes the personal is political. I don't even know what that meansssss
