i'm reporting to you here From the women's bathroom stall at (nam withheld) solo show At the (name withheld) Gallery Located on (name withheld) Blvd.
I have to say that it comes as some relief to be sitting here with my little plastic cup of sour wine resting comfortably on the cold tiled floor I sit upon the plastic, seat cover down the door closed and latched shut What with my notes and my phone and my purse over-full Everything in here is the color of a rotting peach, hard stone exposed And I wonder what the color is in the men's bathroom? A bruised purplish tomato? A dull pinky brownish mayonnaise?
It is very crowded out there Way too many people I came to see paintings painlessly and I can't see a thing but I can jostle with the best except that I'm completely exhausted.
I know it sounds naive, sure that I don't mind saying "Hi!" and "Hey!" without the whitest of smiles But then what do you say after? No worries. I am charming. I will do all the work I will make you laugh Tantalize you with my wit My Enthusiasm or Disdain.
I'll try to come back again when this space is empty perhaps commiserate leaning in at the counter If I feel so inclined Gage my conspiratorial tones by the eyes that face me Grim? Resigned? Expertly Professional? and it may in fact be quite lovely then Now airy, the galleries. Or it ill be a quick and disappointing walkabout and out I may not even need to say "Thank You." because no one cares.
For now I will practice my breathing And think about dead third generation Abstract Expressionists like Norman Bluhm or Joan, my one true love
I'm pretty sure that on the floors out there I've splashed my wine about which will prove to be rather unfortunate for someone who skids in kitten heeels.
Did I mention that Blankety Blank came with yet another brand new spouse? Bold as day. She seems like all the others very nice A mid-tone wheat-y blonde Petite So far her ready smile is a solid and her interested gaze noteworthy Too shy to wear the engrossed face Her mouth is primly closed. She seems polished and stands rather well despite no one talking to her after the Introductory Handshake Her power may grow with time what with that ring on her left finger.
I thought that the husband was still in jail to be honest or had fled to Barbados to sell the same rolled oil on canvas over and over to different buyers and still keep the scratch And the canvas rolled, wrapped, and neatly stored The artist seems to be fine with it although she will never be paid.
Out there beyond this door Stand I can't get a proper count because it's five people deep and their backs are to the walls I watched someone walk passed something rather beautiful although they didn't notice.
I for one nearly had my right eye knocked out by a shock of titanium white that was totally uncalled for. It's on the eastern wall and a scene stealer no doubt Probably already sold Probably hung already sold and it's gonna make the cover of everything.
Personally I'd like to take a knife and slice it full across remove the white offense leaving it crumbled in a mass on the floor Now a loser's cape bright enough to be seen in darkness and stepped over lightly like so many others. Out there.
When I leave this stall I'm gonna toss this cup and I'm gonna run and in so doing quickly side step another tangled bundle I will look intensely to find the hero instead, confronting as one does dark filthy textiles and thread counts and only in the passing In my beautiful raiment A vision I am sure will my eyes reveal that the over familiar tangled bundle the blanket is no one's cape but some exoskeletal remains left behind and its creature, gone. No ragged head. No ***** feet. No professional smile.