A site I like to check in on is PaintersNYC. If you think the bitchiness is a little too much, welcome to a driving force in the art world (especially out east). I don’t think the site exaggerates the tenor one bit. In fact one of the most toxic yet valuable aspects of blogging is that it brings all the voices in – in perhaps an unedited fashion – but those voices were always there. I can vouch for that.
Otherwise people are polite alright. Yet I am still amused at how the pecking order is constantly re-measured and evaluated, like a required dance in which one must ascertain your place, or at least put you in it.
It’s coming back as I now arrange my next project. I remember it clearly, the dance, from my days in NYC. Everyone pays tremendous dues, is reminded of their place (and there’s always a better place, non?). After awhile, you can do it too, as some sort of self-defense mechanism.
Actually, I didn’t. Still again like the embracive goof wanting a gig with the Pistols, I know I did not return back to Oregon with it all intact but it must be back – you just don’t realize it until you’re head to head, and then it all kind of seeps out when you did not expect it.
But it does not feel bad this time around. I was made aware of my measurement at every art party I went to in my 30s. Down, girl. What about this and what about that and you did not pronounce that right. But at 50, it’s just different. OK, I did not say it right, but they’re still calling me back. And I know now that the pain and humiliation is their own – that’s why it’s out there. You know, spread the love. No need to take it personally. And of course it’s not just there either. I found it here in PDX too.