I kinda went and did an art show.
Granted, it's no Damien Hirst (curse you higher-profile artist what Noel Fielding digs going and stealing my thunder by opening THE SAME DAY AS ME, FUCK) but I have a bunch of pieces hanging up on walls, in public, this month.
I'm going to be really fucking annoyed with myself if I run out of business cards before I get the ones I just had printed.
Regardless, I'm a busy bumbly bee otherwise, occupying myself so as not to slip into a mind-numbing sad from which I may never emerge, what with the whole film school woes. Currently about two-thirds of the way through knitting the body of what promises to be a totally badass striped jumper, and a painting of Zoe and Isobel from The Invasion, being 1960s girl detectives with miniskirts and holdy hands, and two pieces for a forthcoming edition of Alice In Wonderland. Good times. I wish I could stop seeing myself as a failure just because financial circumstances far beyond my control preclude me from getting the education I need to jumpstart a career that would allow me to quit my dayjob and move somewhere I actually want to be.
I'm going to be really fucking annoyed with myself if I run out of business cards before I get the ones I just had printed.
Regardless, I'm a busy bumbly bee otherwise, occupying myself so as not to slip into a mind-numbing sad from which I may never emerge, what with the whole film school woes. Currently about two-thirds of the way through knitting the body of what promises to be a totally badass striped jumper, and a painting of Zoe and Isobel from The Invasion, being 1960s girl detectives with miniskirts and holdy hands, and two pieces for a forthcoming edition of Alice In Wonderland. Good times. I wish I could stop seeing myself as a failure just because financial circumstances far beyond my control preclude me from getting the education I need to jumpstart a career that would allow me to quit my dayjob and move somewhere I actually want to be.