This might only be funny because it's so late...
but I came across something I wrote during the most intense of my art show preparations. It made me laugh, so I'm recording it here again for posterity.
Greeting from the Tower.
Sometimes I like to pretend that I'm an artist/princess/spy/poet/hippie. (Kind of like when you were a kid and wanted to be a mermaid/artist/veterinarian/hot air balloon pilot when you grew up, and were convinced you could do all of them at the same time.) Anyways, back to the current fantasy - on really long days like today when I stay in the studio all day, trapped alone in my own little cell of creativity, it kind of feels like I'm an artist/princess/spy/poet/hippie who has been banished to the tower by the evil Lord Shawmeister. (Side note: Everyone in the story thinks the evil Lord Shawmeister is the villain; little do they realize that the real mastermind is a kindly but demanding pirate named Peg-Leg Bip).
Alone in my studio of solitude I sit all day, painting and painting in hopes of meeting the requirements that would allow me to post bail and escape... but alas and alack, one can not live on painting alone. That's where the princess part comes in... because despite the potential beating that I risk from my feminist contemporaries, I have to say that there's still a little part of me that buys into that whole fairy-tale scene, complete with damsel in distress. Now if only we could arrange for a little man to come along, who could paint faster than anyone alive, and who could turn straw in to gold... or better yet, into paintings! The problem with that is that invariably he'd try to come along and take my first born child, and no one really wants to get into that sort of fiasco, even if it would be years down the line...
Usually by this point in the fantasy, I've gotten a little bored with the whole deal, and decide to put a new twist on it... a la spy adventure. But sadly, this is a boring house, and the studio is even more boring, and coming up with a good spy plot is too distracting, so I usually settle for discovering hidden meanings in my paintings, and creating clever witty titles with which to save the world... or at least my show. This literary feat usually leads me to a snazzy line or two that would fit well into a poem (thus the poet role) so I end up distracted for a few minutes jotting down phrases and poems. Oh, and the hippie part? That's just because my hair is currently straight and very long, and I've been walking around wearing my scarf and my awesome brown beany with paintbrushes sticking out from behind my ears, or at random spots stuck into the beany - and Grandma thinks I look like a hippie. That's groovy.
So anyways... I have a meeting with the evil Lord Shawmeister, and Bip, and the other characters that hang around that part of the story on Friday. Yikes. The artist part of me is stressed out and painting like mad trying to get everything ready for this giant critique. The princess is not really all that concerned, but would like rescued from the tower as soon as possible, and knows she doesn't get to see her prince until after the meeting. The spy is thinking about stealing everyone's distributor caps so the meeting has to be canceled and she can skip town and assume a new identity. The poet is feeling dark and brooding, and wants coffee. And the hippie... well, she thinks I should stick it to the MAN and just blow the meeting off. Make love, not war... and furthermore, make art, not appointments.
Peace out.
Greeting from the Tower.
Sometimes I like to pretend that I'm an artist/princess/spy/poet/hippie. (Kind of like when you were a kid and wanted to be a mermaid/artist/veterinarian/hot air balloon pilot when you grew up, and were convinced you could do all of them at the same time.) Anyways, back to the current fantasy - on really long days like today when I stay in the studio all day, trapped alone in my own little cell of creativity, it kind of feels like I'm an artist/princess/spy/poet/hippie who has been banished to the tower by the evil Lord Shawmeister. (Side note: Everyone in the story thinks the evil Lord Shawmeister is the villain; little do they realize that the real mastermind is a kindly but demanding pirate named Peg-Leg Bip).
Alone in my studio of solitude I sit all day, painting and painting in hopes of meeting the requirements that would allow me to post bail and escape... but alas and alack, one can not live on painting alone. That's where the princess part comes in... because despite the potential beating that I risk from my feminist contemporaries, I have to say that there's still a little part of me that buys into that whole fairy-tale scene, complete with damsel in distress. Now if only we could arrange for a little man to come along, who could paint faster than anyone alive, and who could turn straw in to gold... or better yet, into paintings! The problem with that is that invariably he'd try to come along and take my first born child, and no one really wants to get into that sort of fiasco, even if it would be years down the line...
Usually by this point in the fantasy, I've gotten a little bored with the whole deal, and decide to put a new twist on it... a la spy adventure. But sadly, this is a boring house, and the studio is even more boring, and coming up with a good spy plot is too distracting, so I usually settle for discovering hidden meanings in my paintings, and creating clever witty titles with which to save the world... or at least my show. This literary feat usually leads me to a snazzy line or two that would fit well into a poem (thus the poet role) so I end up distracted for a few minutes jotting down phrases and poems. Oh, and the hippie part? That's just because my hair is currently straight and very long, and I've been walking around wearing my scarf and my awesome brown beany with paintbrushes sticking out from behind my ears, or at random spots stuck into the beany - and Grandma thinks I look like a hippie. That's groovy.
So anyways... I have a meeting with the evil Lord Shawmeister, and Bip, and the other characters that hang around that part of the story on Friday. Yikes. The artist part of me is stressed out and painting like mad trying to get everything ready for this giant critique. The princess is not really all that concerned, but would like rescued from the tower as soon as possible, and knows she doesn't get to see her prince until after the meeting. The spy is thinking about stealing everyone's distributor caps so the meeting has to be canceled and she can skip town and assume a new identity. The poet is feeling dark and brooding, and wants coffee. And the hippie... well, she thinks I should stick it to the MAN and just blow the meeting off. Make love, not war... and furthermore, make art, not appointments.
Peace out.