Chick Lit is a genre so big, it’s almost over. No doubt some Chick Lit is better than others. And maybe what I am thinking about is not even Chick Lit.
Ever since I interviewed Lisa Hunter, my mind has been wondering down a storyline she gave when I asked for a hot collecting tip. She actually said something to the effect of: “If I had to pick the next Van Gogh, she is probably 50 and painting in her basement.”
Nearly everyday that I am trudging down into my basement, I still feel kinda lucky that I at least have one. But it isn’t just my own story I’m thinking about. I know so many who have given me this rich montage of what it takes to stay an artist. Not so much how to become one, but how to stay one.
And I’ve learned on my own that the art world isn’t really about art objects, not really. It’s about strange, colorful and often volatile relationships. Some of us have recorded those conversations, stages and styles.
You have to be careful about memoirs. Richard Polsky told me that there’s only so much you can say about another person, and I recall that Bianca got pissed over what Andy wrote in his diaries about her (or rather, she was pissed that it got published). I'm not out to out anyone, yet truth is more fun than so much fiction. But what if you just rearranged the truth? I've got 135 notebooks for starters as one resource...The mind reels at the possibilities.
(Lisa's interview is archived here.)