Tonight I went to my third independent art gallery. I describe this as "independent" as the group and the space the show is in is not your typical gallery, one that is funded by patrons of the arts who want to leave their name on something other than a tombstone. No, this is a gallery run by artists for those that appreciate contemporary art.
And it was an education I cannot get from schooling of any kind.
Some back story. If you look through the recent comments of my blog, you'll find someone by the name of Jason. I have been in contact with him since he left his comments, everything dealing with mostly art and putting your art in front of people. Over the course of the week, he has been the only thing that has kept me happy, helping me forget everything that gave me any problems. I had to thank him for that. I had to thank him properly. How? I don't know.
He mentioned that there was going to be a show in the new location for Secret Show. After that, several other people I knew who were in the show mentioned it as well. Jason and another person said I had no excuse not to show up.
Being the fool that I am, in my twisted mind this meant there was a demand for my presence, something very rare given who I am and how I act. I made efforts to make it out to the show. At one point, I was convinced that I wouldn't be able to make it. Then my parents, the source of most of my angst and blessings, gave me a ride. They originally wanted to see the show, but due to the failure of finding any parking, they just dropped me off.
Over the course of two hours, I received the most amount of education I had ever had in my life! I saw people interact with art from other students I knew and respected. I found myself looking at things and even people in a new light that I had pretty much denied myself in viewing.
I was witnessing people having a life. And it felt odd being that spectator that nobody wants to be.
I did interact with people. I talked to people about the art they produced, questioned some of it (albeit very stupid questions), and even revisited several of the pieces. It was a strangely comfortable social scene. It had its awkward moments. A random person came up to me and introduced himself in a way that scared the hell out of me, but other than that, I felt like myself for once. Yet at the same time I didn't.
The things that will stay with me the most, I can only hope, are the conversations I had with Jason, all of which involved trying to get over this contradictory set of thoughts I have about submitting my art, how to present it, and to top it off the fact that I'm not afraid about getting rejected yet think my art isn't good enough. I don't ever seeing someone being able to convince me how much that last part never made any sense the way Jason did. The look of illogical curiosity on his face just said it all to me.
Why wasn't I doing what he is doing? Because I was canceling myself out in my head.
At the end of the night, I had to thank Jason. He was and will hopefully be a big influence in my life. I learned the hard way that if someone that special comes along, you need to try your damnest not to lose them. Unfortunately, I may have taken a few steps back after taking several forward. While thanking Jason, I apparently crossed a line with him by accident. I saw a scared look in his eyes as if he was afraid of me. He has wide eyes to being with. Very bright and welcoming. But these just read fear.
Attraction and appreciation are two aspects that apparently have been blurred together in my mind. A wall, not a line, but a fucking wall needs to be built.
On my way out, I said to Jason that I would try to make it to future shows. He laughed with a hint of doubt, paraphrasing Yoda's famous "Try not. Do or do not. There is not try." I responded by saying that I make efforts smiling at him, but the moment I was out the door, I was kicking my ass as to how lame that sounded. It was then that I'm convinced something else happened. Something that was only able to happen off the influences from the show.
When I got home, I watched TV, wanting to commit to a show whose plot is like a novel you can't put down because of the way the author ends the chapters. During that 30 minute program, I sat there examining my experience, my feelings from staying in an environment like that by myself for that long, the influences and conversations I had made, the observations. Everything. The show eventually became unimportant; I ended up keeping track of key plot points for references for next week's show if I was able to catch it. It was the other show that was more worthy of my mind's attention. The art show where the person who publicly said he hated me on this very blog impressed me simply by turning a grain of rice into a record became more of an important mental matter than trying to keep up with a plot about an alternate universe where the science of alchemy is a real form of natural magic.
Like I told Jason and Gillian, another artist I knew through class mostly, if I am not changed in some way by this experience tonight, then there is definitely something wrong with me.
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