Busy Day

A and D are matting and framing all day, rubbings of the ends of logs in a dove-tail jointed log cabin. And each one looks like a simple cabin, with a cute little peaked roof. They're especially cool because of all the checking that's gone on in the logs. D is cutting the mats, and while he's doing that A is painting the tops of three pedestals flat black. I hate this, of course, because they'll have to be painted white again after this show, but they do look very good, with the nine plaster casts of nine small (just less than a cubic foot) house-like objects white plaster against a flat black surface. I hang all there rest of the wall pieces, 23 I think, and fuck up on the last one because it's after 4:30 and my math has failed me. Actually, there's one more of the glass, enamel, copper pieces to hang in the entry way, so two things I need to hang, plus the nine pieces they matted and framed. We're good, on time here, I think, though, of course, we've trashed the place, and I need to clean up. We were pretty funny, working around each other all day. Anthony did a very funny ten minutes about shitting in China, he was there twice this past year, and I don't know how that conversation even came up, Darren talking about a train in Europe. Because I'm hanging pieces, and they're not, both of them are constantly telling me things are crooked. God-damned MFA's are overrated, it just allows people to play with mud and bitch. I spend some serious time with a four-piece glass thing and get it really close to perfect: hanging four uniform sized pieces, two by two, exactly an inch apart, on a rough plaster surface, is really difficult. I do the math a dozen times. They are, in the trades, what we call 'good enough' but Anthony sees that they're not actually perfect, and I curse his eye. I knew they weren't, but I couldn't spend any more time making them better. We're talking very small increments here. I don't even want to be perfect, it's beyond my sphere. Set the standard too high, and you're always going to fail. 'Good enough' is almost always good enough for me. B's son-in-law made a legitimate offer for my place, and I have to think about it, leave the country, move to town, get an apartment. I'd have to make to make my life simpler. Short of moving into a tree-tip-pit I can't imagine what that would be. The geese were a flotilla on the lake, resting, floating, I don't envy them that flight. Bunch of assholes trying to shoot them down. I'm just saying.