Yesterday when I went to pick up “L” to bring our artwork to our funky/Goth/comic book/sex/political art show around 12:45, and she was the late as usual. The latest ever actually. At least 30 minutes late with the usual bath towel wrapped around her. I did wait in the car for a while, but damn, we were having the hottest day of the year so far (87 degrees….WTF? It was just snowing 10 days ago) and I was roasting out in the car, so I finally went in her house.
I’ve never been in her house before and it was quite a sight to behold. I won’t go into it here, but while she was getting ready upstairs I sat down at this ancient piano to play a few Broadway tunes….since I was pretty much afraid to sit down anywhere else and it was the most out of tune piano I’ve ever played…a fact we later discussed and of which she was proud. I mean when I played “Wilkommen” from “Cabaret” and it came out sounding like “Oklahoma” as sung by Richard Simmons shrieking while seeing a mouse.
We finally got down to the bar with our artwork at around 1:40. It was weird going from bright sunlight into the Bowels of Hell, i.e., a pub with a bunch of Goth types. And I so fit in with my shorts and striped shirt from J.C. Penney’s, via the Salvation Army. About 2/3 of the artwork had already arrived and some of it was (cough) pretty interesting, especially the rather large painting of former New York governor Elliot Spitzer and a very lovely young naked woman doing something rather private with her fingers and her va-ji-ji! Yikes! But it was beautifully painted and if PBS ever needs a painting to auction off, some late evening, this one would surely fetch a rather princely sum. And rather nerve-wrackingly, the guy who painted it, kept looking at me for most of the afternoon and evening.
So I didn’t really do much at the hanging of the show until the Sci Fi Guy pulled out a twenty and asked “L” and I to go around the corner and get some loaves of bread and some salsa dip for the people working. Even though the place we were at is kind of a dive, the neighborhood is very yuppiefied and has a lot of high priced eateries and Starbuck places. It is, in fact, the area, where I will have my art show next summer.
So “L” and I walked over to this high end bread bakery and told the young girl, who looked a little arty/Gothy that we were looking for some bread and dip for some artists who were setting up a show. So she pulled out two huge, freshly baked loaves and a tub of the most expensive dip. “L” and I started going “Oh no. We want the cheaper stuff. We only have $20” and then she pushed everything towards us and said “Here, take it!” Well, with both “L” and I being poor, we weren’t about to argue. And then the girl said she was an artist too, so we told her more about the show and invited her to bring stuff over.
We were so excited when we brought the goodies back to Sci Fi Guy and handed him back his money. We did tell him about the girl and fortunately when her boyfriend brought in her work, it fit right in with our theme and was quite decent. So yay on that! And yay for the additional fresh pizza bread she sent with her boyfriend and her artwork!
I went home in between. I’ve been tired the last few days. My new neighbor, the Loud Talker has been waking me up every morning, yakking at top volume out on her porch, which faces my bedroom starting at around 8:15 a.m. She literally sits on her porch all day, chatting on her phone, and it’s been even more fun last couple of days she was babysitting her grandson, who ran up and down the courtyard yelling and screaming and slamming doors and bouncing balls and her yelling at him THE ENTIRE FUCKING DAY. Summer, should be awesome!
When it was time to go to the show I absolutely did not know what to wear. Gah! When I had been at the set up of the show, my little teenage Goth friend had told me that my newly cut bangs made me look like the lead singer for the Seekers. Is that good? I dunno. But as far as the clothes, I pretty much look like a chubby housewife from the ‘burbs. I mean I was thinking of what the people at the SET-UP were wearing.
* sneakers that laced up to the knees. (don’t have)
* tee-shirts with either skulls or anarchy logos on them (don’t have)
* pants pinned together with huge safety pins and patched with skull logos (don’t have)
* purple, green or pink hair, possibly a mohawk (don’t have)
* striped shirt, plaid pants, orange tie, John Deere cap, Converse sneakers (don’t have)
* tattoo of “The Ironm@n” on my neck (don’t have…yet)
I am just so freakin’ plain. I need a Goth makeover for elderly women. Hopefully it won’t make me look like Keith Richards.
So instead I ended up wearing my Laura Ingalls/”Little House on the Prairie”/Texas Compound of 12 year old Mormon Wives sundress. Eyeliner. Sandals. And yes, I even wore underwear!
I got down there around 7:30 (it started at 7), but it still was pretty empty. Vagina Painting Guy was sitting on the couch looking at me. Stop! I’m wearing underwear you weirdo. So I went back out and walked around the yuppie neighborhood which was teaming with activity since it was the warmest night of the year. People sitting in outdoor cafe tables. Mean Girls in tight dresses outside of bars, lining up the rich guy they’re going to nail for their first husbands.
I finally went back in around 8 and it still was pretty empty, but I sat and listened to a guy playing “Misty” on acoustical guitar with Vagina Painting Guy staring at me. Stop! It finally started to pick up at around 8:45. More kids came in. A couple of people from my art class showed up. My painting had no wire on it, so it was just propped up against some electrical cords. I had Professional Artist Guy take my picture with it. I took pictures of him and his girlfriend. But mostly I just sat in a chair with sweaty palms having social anxiety problems because everyone was there with someone and it really hit me like a ton of bricks. What? The walking around the neighborhood on a warm summery night and seeing everyone interacting with someone and me sitting alone like some zombie staring off into space. I really am lonely and not real confident that I’ll ever find anyone.
I mean, here I am with people…my people….artist-types and I still can’t really talk to anyone. I feel awkward. Insecure. Tongue-tied. Sure, on occasion, I feel like I’m a legend in my own mind, but in reality, my social anxiety is so severe, especially in crowds, that I just disappear into myself and feel invisible. And its kind of hard to meet people when you feel like that. Or when only the weird Vagina Painting Guy is staring at you.
So I finally left around 9. I didn’t even say good bye to anyone or get my uber-cool tee-shirt from the event. I just went home and finished up Photoshopping the cemetery pictures from last week and sent them to the client. Doesn’t that sound like an exciting Saturday night? It is for me.
By the way, this is my painting from the show.
I was so insecure about trying to do some hip, bold piece with a condom dangling off it, that I just submitted a painting I had done about a month ago. Way to go, Hipster Artist Chick. Next I’ll be teaching Guardcat how to do Jackson Pollock paintings with her tail.