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A few quick updates. We've shown the short film in a couple festivals. An interesting alternate universe away from the Art World (note the capital letters). I've enjoyed this. In one particular festival the quality was professional so we saw our film the way it's supposed to be seen. It was exciting. My big stupid face on a massive screen. The film was also featured in an excellent group show of video work in a really "good" space. I was moved for two reasons. One, the show was the highest quality show I've been a part of. Two, the space is incredibly respectable. I thought about how far I've come. So things have been picking up. A have a couple inclusions in group shows lined up for the year and tonight a magazine launch where a collage of mine is included. But I'm really going to write about my life today, new ideas (for me) about self-care. And this includes re-assessing my increasingly strained relationship to my art world peers. I enjoy socializing, and I enjoy supporting my peers. I do more of this then I make art. It has been useful in that I "get around" and as a result, get into shows. Big deal. To some extent in this being "out and about" is a building resentment, a feeling of unrequited support. Not sure I can actually prove this, but in addition to feeling this unequal support is the suspicion that my "connections" in my already little world is mere catnip for those so ambitious they're willing to fake an interest in me. I have little clues here and there, but again, no proof. So I'm becoming increasingly paranoid. I've had to take a step back. I've been looking at the lives of those I most admire: bell hooks, Angela Davis, Yayoi Kusama, Susan Sontag. One thing they all have in common is they work A LOT (or worked). And they're public about their solitary work-driven lives. I've thought, this is what I need. It's been proven I'm not satisfied by my "friendships" in the art world, which for the most part are questionable. I often come back to thinking about my death bed and what David Cassidy said on his: "So much wasted time". On my death bed I will be counting my accomplishments, not how many people I supported by attending their harshly lit mediocre art shows. Los Angeles too, is really a place where this comes into focus as person after person lies to your face, and you become increasingly super sensitive to insincere nuances or subtle machinations. Cynical. I'm not too thrilled about that. On the other hand I have actively traded in my social life for studio work and I've accomplished a great deal (starting this month in April). I am feeling less desperate too about others and my expectation for equal support. I don't want to be lied to so I'd rather beat them to the punch by expecting the worst and being delighted when shown differently. I don't really feel supported by my peers, to be honest. I don't see anyone making art that bears resemblance to mine. I'm frustrated by how much bad art surrounds me. And I'm frustrated by the airs the mediocre artists put on. In a way, I am glad to be in this head space. I am extracting a lot of energy from it and working more as a result. I am feeling very competitive and I'm tired of pretending these people are my actual friends. I don't like their art anyway.
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