So Far

I'm so far out of the loop, I don't know what's expected of me. The Board had tasked me with spending more time on the Carter collection, and spending less time being a janitor, but I am the janitor, and since D has been gone there's even more for me to do on that front. Today it was the Lock Guy, changing out the tumblers on the front and back door, re-keying them, then the Security Guy, changing out the code. During the remodel, too many people got keys and too many people learned the code. Now we're secure again. I had pushed for this. Security had become a joke. I sorted hardware, getting ready for the next change-over, and located the wrapping materials for Tami's drawings. She's doing a talk, tomorrow at five, then we pack them up on Saturday morning for the trip back to North Carolina. I'm looking forward to hearing the talk about her process: graphite, watercolor, encaustic. And look forward to talking with her husband, Shane, who works in white cement on armatures, wonderful sculpture; we've exhibited his work, I've handled a couple of dozen pieces. There's a sense of intimacy that develops, if you're the one that physically handles the objects. But someone has to do it. I started working backstage when I was 16, professionally when I was 18; installing shows, it seems in hindsight, is what I've always done. In terms of livelihood, at any rate, though I've always enjoyed what I did, wether it was staging an opera in Maine or building a house in Utah. I've always had other interests, things that took my attention. Reading, for instance, takes up an eighth of my time. Right now, I'm spending an increasing amount of time on my writing: editing, rereading, thinking about being a writer in residence. Most of the time I don't pay any attention to what I wrote yesterday, I have an appointment with what I'm going to write today. So it's both a damper and fuel for the fire. Remarkably unclear, despite every attempt at transparency.