art. work. gallery. numb.

Today I went to the gallery to take in another puzzle assemblage to see if it would pass the muster to replace the piece that sold last week. It did. It's up. (its the photo above) I spent time talking to the owner, oddly enough he LIKED this one and said I had been holding out! When I left there were three people standing in front of both puzzle assemblages talking about them. It still feels unreal to me. I did not make those pieces. They aren't mine. Someone alive and vivacious, creative, happy, and unfettered made those works.

Had a talk with tod when I returned home about art, we talk about art every day but some days things click more than others. He came up with me possibly entertaining the thought of doing a series. I could keep making mixed media pieces until the end of time but hearing him say something to the effect of making one body of work that went together and thinking ahead as if making it for a solo show gave my barren insides, gave the tiny villi floating delicately deep inside of me a wave of movement.

I'm still dead feeling. I still feel like I've been plucked by some pale fat heavy fingers and pinched tightly until consciousness is lost and dropped elsewhere to gather my wits and bearing about me. Left to my own devices I might even just float off and disappear.

I have about twenty three pieces out in three different places. A record for me. When I tally up my income for the year I have made an average of just under 800 a month. That almost keeps most of my bills paid. It keeps food in my belly. It keeps the car running and on the road. It has been just enough to keep me from feeling utterly screwed.

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