- Ambrose Bierce
Tomorrow morning is the orientation meeting at Trinity for The Artists Among Us show in May. Mary and I will have to be there at 9AM to give dimensions, descriptions and prices for the show. As much as I enjoy presenting, I am not sure anything is truly worth getting up and off by 8:15 on a Saturday morning. But Starbuck's is on the way - always a good carrot in front of my nose.
Of course this would be much simpler if I was a little more organized, and had my works properly photo'd, priced and catalogued as I produce. I am sure there are people who keep such remarkable records - but with me it is a matter of pulling things out of the closets where I have stowed them, and taking the necessary measurements - then computing the sales values. Given the fact my products are assembled from a number of materials and resources, the pricing mechanism is not exactly a simple process - I like to think of it as being rather scientific, but in reality it is more like complex algebra, a subject I was never particularly good with in school. If you have a panel of wood on the side of a car traveling at 30 MPH while you ride blindfolded in the opposite direction on a tricycle at 2MPH and you toss three cans of paint at the wood one after the other, how much would the paint that hits the panel have cost?
Answer; Trick question - depends - had you bought a latte or and Americano at Starbuck's?
Furthermore there is the emotional attachment. I have gotten past my unwillingness to part with each and every piece I complete - although I do still keep detailed photos and diaries on each just in case I might want to re-use a component. But everything I do carries a piece of me in it, in the paint, in the gilding, in the assemblage. So it is hard for me to put a price that does not require the buyer to take out a lien. It is not the Mona Lisa, I have to remind myself, even if it feels like it to me. Which is probably the very reason I should be making production-line art instead of the one-offs that I do. Warhol made millions off of his repeated soup cans and color-tinted photos.
So that may be my next line-up. Icons on Soup Cans. It could work. And I could retail them in grocery stores. Better yet - maybe I can do a line of latte-cups for Starbuck's. Now there's an idea to grow on....
Friday, March 28, 2008
Monday, March 17, 2008
“There's no need to fear the wind if your haystacks are tied down.”
- Irish proverb
St Patrick's Day is an interesting holiday, given it is basically an American tradition, celebrating the fact that for one day everyone has an Irish heritage, commemorating the life of a Saint who was not, by the way, Irish. But then that is what we do, and we celebrate by eating Kosher Corned Beef.
Go figure.
This morning on the news, there was a piece about the dyeing of the river in Chicago
- apparently about 40 years back some plumbers who were using a chemical to trace a water leak accidentally stained the Chicago River green - and it has become a tradition every year since. What I found interesting was that it does not seem to take a lot of the brilliant-orange powder they toss into the river and then stir up with the use of an outboard motorboat to taint the water not just green, but a toxic glowing brew. I am sure the color washes downstream and dilutes, but I did actually wonder what it does to the fish. Not to mention, does anyone ever swim in the water downstream? I am envisioning a whole community of people eating green fish, swimming and dying their skin green. It could happen. A decade from now, someone may stumble onto a small town of green people - a discovery similar to the Anasazi - who would no doubt be revered for their coloring.
Nouveaux Leprechauns if you will. Undoubtedly living on a a diet of corned beef and cabbage, swigging green beer. Fortunately we Irishmen and leprechauns all have a wry sense of humor.
St Patrick's Day is an interesting holiday, given it is basically an American tradition, celebrating the fact that for one day everyone has an Irish heritage, commemorating the life of a Saint who was not, by the way, Irish. But then that is what we do, and we celebrate by eating Kosher Corned Beef.
Go figure.
This morning on the news, there was a piece about the dyeing of the river in Chicago
- apparently about 40 years back some plumbers who were using a chemical to trace a water leak accidentally stained the Chicago River green - and it has become a tradition every year since. What I found interesting was that it does not seem to take a lot of the brilliant-orange powder they toss into the river and then stir up with the use of an outboard motorboat to taint the water not just green, but a toxic glowing brew. I am sure the color washes downstream and dilutes, but I did actually wonder what it does to the fish. Not to mention, does anyone ever swim in the water downstream? I am envisioning a whole community of people eating green fish, swimming and dying their skin green. It could happen. A decade from now, someone may stumble onto a small town of green people - a discovery similar to the Anasazi - who would no doubt be revered for their coloring.Nouveaux Leprechauns if you will. Undoubtedly living on a a diet of corned beef and cabbage, swigging green beer. Fortunately we Irishmen and leprechauns all have a wry sense of humor.
Thursday, March 06, 2008
I played a lot of tough clubs in my time. Once a guy in one of those clubs wanted to bet me $10 that I was dead. I was afraid to bet
- Henny Youngman
I had one of those moments the other day. You know one of those office moments you'd rather not have had. It all started with my hand on the phone, dialing a call which in this case was long distance so it necessitated the dialing first of a "9 -then a 1"...about that time my Assistant dropped by my desk, and I stopped dialing and hung up. A second later alarms started wailing all over the office. I assumed it was a fire alarm, which since we have numerous false alarms and fire drills - and since my office is on the first floor I really was not all that concerned so proceeded to answer the question. I heard a call from around the corner, someone asking me if I had dialed 911. "No" I said, "of course not".
"Well the system says you did"
Oh oh. I must have dragged my finger over the "1" a second time before I hung up the phone. But it never had time to connect....
So it seems our office is wired straight to a general panic alarm from every phone in the place. Not only does a 911 call signal the usual Fire and Police, but it sets off a series of internal alarms and alerts all the in-house emergency personnel as well. So phones were going off all over the building, all the persons designated to respond were grabbing up their flak jackets, their med kits and the lock popped open on the box on the wall containing the portable Defibrillator. I walked out my door to see a lineup of about ten people all expecting to find me writhing on the floor.
Which all goes to show that the system works. Not that it is necessarily foolproof, as I demonstrated. The only good part of this is that I had hung up the phone before the aid unit was discharged - but the internal alert apparently triggers just by the input of the number. Had I had my wits about me, I should have collapsed to the floor; frankly it would have been significantly less embarrassing than to have to admit that I had just punched in the code and hung up the phone.
I hate technology sometimes. But then I think the Engineer in charge of applying the Defibrillator was the most disappointed of all.
I had one of those moments the other day. You know one of those office moments you'd rather not have had. It all started with my hand on the phone, dialing a call which in this case was long distance so it necessitated the dialing first of a "9 -then a 1"...about that time my Assistant dropped by my desk, and I stopped dialing and hung up. A second later alarms started wailing all over the office. I assumed it was a fire alarm, which since we have numerous false alarms and fire drills - and since my office is on the first floor I really was not all that concerned so proceeded to answer the question. I heard a call from around the corner, someone asking me if I had dialed 911. "No" I said, "of course not".
"Well the system says you did"
Oh oh. I must have dragged my finger over the "1" a second time before I hung up the phone. But it never had time to connect....
So it seems our office is wired straight to a general panic alarm from every phone in the place. Not only does a 911 call signal the usual Fire and Police, but it sets off a series of internal alarms and alerts all the in-house emergency personnel as well. So phones were going off all over the building, all the persons designated to respond were grabbing up their flak jackets, their med kits and the lock popped open on the box on the wall containing the portable Defibrillator. I walked out my door to see a lineup of about ten people all expecting to find me writhing on the floor.
Which all goes to show that the system works. Not that it is necessarily foolproof, as I demonstrated. The only good part of this is that I had hung up the phone before the aid unit was discharged - but the internal alert apparently triggers just by the input of the number. Had I had my wits about me, I should have collapsed to the floor; frankly it would have been significantly less embarrassing than to have to admit that I had just punched in the code and hung up the phone.
I hate technology sometimes. But then I think the Engineer in charge of applying the Defibrillator was the most disappointed of all.
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