I’m sitting here in my office – away from the craziness of the house – trying to find a bit of peace. Some calm amid the storm that will be this week.
Art show week. Fuck me.
I love doing the art show for the local club. I really do. But it seems like it follows the 80-20 rule whereby 20% of the issues causes me 80% of the pain. And in this case, issues are artists.
Most of the artists I work with are freaking awesome. They communicate. They understand shit may go wrong for them as well as me – so ride the waves as they come.
Then other artists….sigh….make me want to kill them using the hanging wire that is supposed to be on the back of their pieces but have sawtooth hangers instead.
All the bullshit with this art show started last week. One Thursday, I was wondering how difficult would it be to swap out both artists. One guy was giving me excuse after excuse for why his shit was late. Email wasn’t working, yet he was emailing me. I kept sending him notes about this or that because he wasn’t answering me either on Fetlife or via email. Then I’d get something and it would lead to other questions. My favorite in all of it was how he used his online moniker in all of his stuff. I double checked with him to make sure he didn’t want his real name on things. “No, no – use my moniker please – no real names.” Then on Thursday, he posted something using his real name instead of the moniker. *head desk*
He talked a good game. He came with good credentials from people. Fuck, he keeps getting hired. Yet, his actions? Not matching up at all. So I’m believing his actions over his words.
I should also mention that when he showed up tonight to drop off the art…….he brought half of the pieces promised. And they were all small. Small is good for certain things. But these photos were not shot to be small. They were shot to be large. And his frames…..oh, lord…..they did not meet any degree of requirement. They were frames you use to show family photos on a mantle……not for a show.
The other artist has been sending me lengthy emails outlining how exactly he would like me to handle his art in the club. I told him I would do that – suggested he unwrap his own stuff since he was worried about it and worried someone would toss his custom made sleeves – and told him I’d do all I could to keep things good. This did not satisfy him. I got another lengthy email explaining all of his grievances including shit that didn’t happen like he said they did because, well, I have the evidence in my office next to me. I took a different tactic that time. Still no go. Another lengthy email back from him. I finally was like: “DUDE: I get it – I’ll be careful. That’s all I can do.”
His response back…..?
“I think I may have come across like an asshole…..”
Today during drop off, he gave me another apology. I appreciated the fact he had tripped over his ego, realized what he had tripped over, then owned it.
But still…..the getting to that point made for a long few days late last week.
Today was made even harder because my Portland Thorns Women’s Pro Soccer team was in the playoffs. They won the shield meaning they were #1 at the end of the regular season and went into the playoffs against a team they had beaten in every meeting during the season.
It started out so well.
Then poor officiating took over. A missed hand ball in the box. Players opening grabbing onto other players and tossing them to the ground. The other team’s coach got tossed from the game. There are 6 yellow cards in the game. It was crazy.
After 94 minutes of play (3 min of overage), they were tied. Another 30 minutes of play was added. The other team scored once…..and the Thorn didn’t score again. I think everyone in the stadium – all 20,600 fans stood the last 15 minutes of the game.
I was exhausted by the time I hit the club for art pickup and drop off. Exhausted and no voice.
I’m now even more exhausted but awake – if that makes any sense.
The week is just starting and I’m ready for it to be over.
I’m just ready to deal with people I know and understand and who won’t spring bullshit on me unexpectedly.