She didn't take me by the hand to meet Chrissie Isles. She didn't exclaim, "I want that now for the show on protest I'm working on." She didn't pick up the phone and call Bill to insist that I be considered for the Biennial.
So, I confess, there's a bit of disappointment.
She did however:
like my work
spend an hour with me
ask me a lot of questions
suggest people I should call
accept that I use her name
So, what's there really to complain about.
I guess the prospect that it will be work, work and nothing but work throughout this whole career.
I'm coming to realize just how much the need for admiration gets mixed up in this whole process for me. There is definitely a vivid fantasy of succeeding, of being publicly respected, of even being envied. And at the same time, there's contempt for fame, a desire to drop out, and a huge discomfort of having something others want.
Keep forgetiing. I love art.
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