The discussion over at the Slog is getting rather remarkable. I found that one of the more recent posts had a very steady aim when it declared that this discussion was about power. And in her story, she gave the details of almost getting a gallery, but it involved a ‘date’. Now, this is a story I could unfortunately embellish in many added dimensions.
I can only think of two times I showed in New York that did not involve a possible sexual opportunity and as can be projected, one of these exhibitions came from a gay male curator and the other, from a woman. Otherwise the shows were gone when the hopes and moves were over. But looking back, maybe I should have just stuck my elbows way out and been the art whore.
Like when I was invited over to Holly Solomon’s house for a dinner party and did not go. I would go only as a girlfriend, it was abundantly clear, and not as an artist. No doubt I should have just made it obvious that I was an artist too and in no uncertain terms (whatever that is), even if I received only tepid, polite responses. But I just didn’t have enough kahoonies left after my work-day was over, plus too much (ridiculous) pride.
There’s the gallery owner who grabbed me as I walked by and placed me on his lap, the fellow who visited my studio and stuck his tongue down my throat before I could use it to say Stop! What is really awful is to recall how many times I was courted by ‘curators’ and even fellow ‘artists’ who turned out to be none of that; just using the one thing I would hold out for. Coffee and promises of dinner made no dent with me, but mention you are in the art world – like any true predator, they know your weakness.
So yes, it’s always about power. I openly acknowledge right here and right now that I started most of my current, ongoing over-cramped life because I couldn’t stand someone else having so much of it over me anymore. Busyness lets you forget, but there's more reconstruction to come.