Day Ten - She Made Her Mark
The image of a jig saw puzzle of a Victorian house I once owned in Port Townsend, Washington, will be more interesting that a haphazard pile of foam core board. When I was young and foolish I ran a construction company that specialized in the restoration of Victorian and Edwardian era residential buildings. So when Anne Copeland of FiberArts Connection of Southern California took me up on my word about curating an exhibition I thought I know all about old buildings.
Ah, hubris, I thought that less than favorable aspect of my personality had gone the way of all my dark brown hair. Mock-up, sure, not a problem; um, . . . the walls in my stair well are not plumb. The downstairs has no ceiling. The two rooms I've been assigned upstairs have no floors. I thank the universe every day that I had enough sense to mock this up in scale.
There is no way I could have gotten the rhythm, balance, cadence of this exhibition without being able to see it in miniature in the round. It has truly been an exercise in humility. I think there is a possibility I am done. I don't really know. I need to look at this again, and again, and again. I look in from the vantage of the front window downstairs. I look in the rooms upstairs like a parakeet. Mighty pudgy parakeet.
Even if this still looks right on Wednesday there is still a lot of work to do. I have to annotate the data base. I have to notify each artist. I have to work my way through the first round of declined works because every one of them is worthy of being in the master exhibition. I still have to pull two small, concise exhibitions that will be specifically for the greater Los Angeles basin.
I have about five and a half hours in today. I've completely lost count of the total woman hours to date. Maybe someone who has been paying attention can post a tally as a comment.
I'll be back at it again tomorrow.