Artwork

A flood of work in for the show today, 60 or 80 pieces, too many to keep track, and much of it very nice. The year of the watercolor, several of them quite edgy, and some 3D stuff. Some etchings and lithographs that I like quite a lot, but then I'm a sucker for impression, having spent decades as a letter-press printer. A magnificent graphite on paper, maybe four feet square, of just a young girl's head. The hair is phenomenal. It may well be best-in-show, in my opinion, which counts for nothing, and I stop and look at it closely, every time I walk by. All the detail is achieved with cross-hatching, and that's difficult even on a small scale. Power and phone out last night. Knew it meant trees down so left early this morning to help clear the road. Sure enough. Major thunder storms scheduled for tonight, flash-flooding, 50 mph winds. May have to shut down early. Another big day for artwork and though we're still missing some top artists, by late afternoon we knew we had a show. I pretty much just shuffled around, moving art, unwrapping, talking with artists. Woman that two years ago brought in a huge hand (3 feet high) that was shooting the finger and was completely covered in cigaret butts (it made the show) brought in an interesting life-size stick figure, literally made of lashed sticks, with grass hair, nice hooters, great spear and woven shield. But on the ride in, in the back of a pick-up truck, it suffered some damage. I helped with the repair and the banter was sublime. A real and awful Appalachian Jesus shrine arrived with a truly obnoxious born-again person. Sara got stuck with him and I felt terrible for her. D and I walked away. Another lady from two years ago, does fairly classic clay heads, air-dried, unfired black clay. I like them. She's attractive and interesting, runs a cafe/gallery in Huntington, and I think she asked me over for lunch. I'm sure one of her pieces will make the show, so I'll see her at the opening gala. The schedule for the next seven days is absolutely impossible, therefore I fully expect to barely finish in time; fucking impossible, man, it just takes longer. So when I see these people again, Jo Etta, Zoe, Alan and Todd, I'll be wiped-out, toast. Tomorrow, we spread the pieces out, and we can influence the jury's decision by how we place things, in a few cases we might adjust the lights; we're devious and have our own opinions. Sunday the judging, and I look forward to that, the art talk, decisions and justifications; and then on Monday we set the show, where everything goes, and then we install it, and label it, and light it, in three galleries in three days. We can do this but it's a close thing, I don't even like people that much, but I like fondling art, and really, it's better than digging ditches. Thunder storms from the west, the house shakes from lightning strikes, my usual example is I appear naked, expounding whatever. Nothing is what it seems.