visit art galleries

benefit by simply meeting friendly people

etiquette is possible

people are possible

to be more culture-friendly

as far as friendliness, lectures, and conferences go

at Yale Art Gallery has been nearly impossible,

a policy against reality

at White Space Gallery in New Haven, for approx. a month,

possibly next summer as well

The title is Tracery: Tangerin et Veridienne

once or twice with my friend Jason, although now I can’t recall if I missed the meeting,

it seems more central now is the point I mean to make,

galleries can be stimulating environments, although I’ve developed a superstition about inclusive paid events that shuttle people along a ticketed course of turn-stile sort of elegance

Maybe if I visited local galleries more frequently someone in the sky would treat my work as though its worth a darn,

there’s a lot of artwork I find dissapointing, however the culture and atmosphere does a lot of good if it doesn’t seem too posh or glitzy; its best when I have an opportunity to have my ego stoked, but for the most part I don’t get the right dose or blush myself into a closet

so many pretty girls that are blind to my life empirically

I met at a restaurant claims to have connections to an art gallery in New York. I don’t know if this is a legitimate contact, but he’s already been helpful in printing some artwork on canvas for less than the price at Kinko’s.

Photos of large-scale works when they are available, or visit my art site at Motist Art Gallery.

The work is of an abstract and calligraphic character for the most part, with some works in a similar style using vibrant color combinations.

Still don’t have enough courage to go to New York on my own.

Part of my believes there’s some kind of hidden expense. Maybe its just paranoia.

I went on my first “business trip” recently related to my job at the library. I know its mostly BS because I work part-time, but it gave me a chance to explore outside the most local area. New enthusiasm for travel; so much more free away from the familiar.

I began to imagine owning an apartment far from parents, far from other’s motives, confrontations, or agendas. I’d be a different person in a week.

Although I haven’t visited any galleries recently, I do plan to visit another sort of institution soon: Yale’s Sterling Library. The only reason for comparison is that the usual museum I visit is also owned by Yale; similar existentially.

Hopes for adventure. That’s what this goal was originally about anyway.

I missed my chance on Saturday and went again—didn’t feel like the fool I would if I missed two days in a row, 6pm was just going by word of mouth.

The collection isn’t quite as large as I remember, and I don’t often feel the deep feelings I feel that I should. Nevertheless it was definitely worth my time—the triangular staircase and pre-formed concrete ceilings creating an atmosphere where everything is somehow more real.

The giftshop has been reduced a good deal from before, there’s a little island with postcards and books behind glass cases. I hoped to buy a silver ring.

I went up three floors and tried the fourth, but it was off limits for renovations. The asian artifacts seemed a little too creepy and charged for me this time (to say nothing of the Egyptian things in the basement), so I ambled about without really sticking on anything for very long.

There’s an abstract piece called #12 or #24 or something like that that reminds me a little of my sketches, even if its 400 times the size and less intricate. Maybe all the really good ones are in private collections, hard to tell.

Then there was a little towering sculpture made of some kind of polished marble or onyx or something, looking like ivory piano keys but a little too suggestive for something so stark and airy.

I found myself in the far corner with assorted vaguelly threatening pieces including the mounted page of a book with a circle cut into it, and there were these two young women who clearly expected me to be a Yale art student looking for a hookup, who seemed mildly charming but maybe a little too needy, for whatever reason I found nothing to say.

There’s the one side that says I need more french to qualify, and the other side that says “do I really know these people?”. It may be that they’re more like myself than I realize—I’ve heard my personality can scare people sometimes, something I’m not often willing to believe since I’m not physically overbearing, but the truth is I don’t have much to stand on at this point, its stupid to hold up a facade when for example, I don’t know french.

In any case, I found myself in the lower level with a half hour to kill, sketchbook on hand and not every pen missing for once, so I became this peculiar rarity, the artist in the great up-scale lobby, making art that seemed in my estimation slightly superior to some of the things on the walls. Its good to get a change of ambiance now and then.

Obviously the next step is to hone my communication skills, meet women at my own exhibits, although clearly its not like I have a studio in New York.

My thus-far-non-commercial web art gallery may be found at http://www.impossiblemachine.com/Gallery2
under the pseudonym Eucaleh Terrapin

You’d think I’d be drinking in the picturesque landscape (okay, there are doubts in New Haven; not everyone wants to draw pictures of castles or make references to Berkeley) I may be an abstract artist, but the least I could do is visit a gallery or two. New York creeps me out, it seems like a bit of an identity gamble to head over there without an agenda.

An artist without a private showing ends up looking like a bum. There are galleries in New Haven, but the last time I went to the Museum of British Art it seemed like someone drew everything with crayons.

The Yale Art Gallery has been redone and may have new exhibits now, the sculptures were impressive before. Sometimes I wonder about donations though: what means anything to an artist doesn’t necessarily mean anything to Yale (and what means anything to a struggling artist doesn’t necessarily mean anything to dead artists).

Even if the architecture makes me uneasy and I’m too self-conscious carrying a sketchbook, I’ll try to make the most of it.

Yesterday I went with my husband and our youngest daughter to see the Women painted by Impressionists exhibition. It was really great and I must visit galleries more often.