What the hell happened?
In the early part of May, I participated in two weekends of Open Studios. The following week I spent preparing for a large party that I gave in celebration of my daughter’s graduation from college. During this time I was reading “The $7 million stuffed shark: the curious economics of contemporary art.” My computer died and I had to buy a new computer. I went to the SF Art Fair. My brother visited me for four days. I picked up one painting at a show and delivered another to a different show. I watched trash TV. I went to work. I thought about digging a hole and burying myself with my paintings. I wondered now that I was informed about how the “artworld” really worked, what to do? I went to the studio and stared at my paintings. I brought some paintings over to get framed in preparation for an upcoming show, Marin/Scapes. I told my father that I would help him by staying with my mother and take care of her. I started thinking about time. I started thinking about hour glasses. I spent an hour and a half researching time, space and Bergson and reading about math and physics and various philosophers takes on time. I looked up the book “Time and the River.” I tried to imagine how my paintings of water reflected my preoccupation with time aging and death. I came up with no answers. I realized that since my paintings weren’t selling much that I may as well paint at the scale I wanted as opposed to painting with the hope that someone would buy my paintings. I wondered what the hell happened? So far, no answer.