14 km on my bicycle today. in this INSANE cold. part of me feels smug, a much bigger part of me is beginning to understand that i am truly Off My Tree.
so when i left the house this evening i decided to walk.
saw Finding Neverland. Wept shamelessly.
this too a sign of lunacy.
Real artists don't weep at johnny depp movies.
earlier today: a disconcerting meeting with the administrator of my program re: this fast looming internship of mine.
her advice re: portfolios and whatnot?
"when you go in for your meeting, you have to show them work that has less of your personality in it. (pause) of course your personality is going to be important, but you need to show them that you can shift out of it."
sigh. why do i find this notion gravely disturbing?
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links.
- blog the THIRD (and now it's Autumn)
- blog the SECOND (welcome to 2007)
- steflenk's bizarre and astounding dossier of illustrative genius.
- girls missguided.
- shannon gerard's bookworks: glorious viscera for discerning bibliophiles.
- willow dawson: girl pirate and extraordinary comic book artist.
- peripateticisms and whatnot by John Patrick Robichaud.
- scott. (need i say more?)
- immense paintings and visual nourishment by kari minchin.
- Brick, a literary journal. (belles lettres and more from people who aren't dead yet.
- Coach House Press. Indeed.
2 comments:
sounds like that lady administrator is a little uncomfortable with who you are. don't let her smooth you over like milk, man.
:)
true enough, i suppose. hard to remain unswayed in the moment.
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