Chiara Clemente's "Our City Dreams"

I have such a hard time reconciling the obsessive compulsive artist in me with cold hard reality. One must sell one's work. Or one will starve. Or wind up flipping burgers, which may be a lovely job to some, but I am far too delicate for that kind of heat, polyester and repetition. It's been like untangling the world's most unruly ball of twine, trying to pull together all of the different aspects of what I do, writing, illustrating, performing, etc. to form some kind of cohesive brand, marketing plan, publishing entity, career...

It's like I am only capable of making things that no one will ever see, because I'm too busy making more things that no one will ever see to ever get any of it out into the world of real, live, card-carrying people. Why can't I have a rich benefactor or fairy godmother, some super agenting-dirty worker to make everything happen socially & financially while I twirl about, alone & left to my hippy dippy dreams? Why would I even have the notion that a life like that is possible? I'm sure it's not. I blame it on the media. I blame everything on the media! Wait. Am I the media? Does keeping a blog mean I am, if fact, to blame for everything?



Kime Buzzelli keeps one of the coolest blogs online & she just posted about this screening she went to of Chiara Clemente's "Our City Dreams", a documentary about five prominent women in the art world, Kiki Smith, Nancy Spero, Ghada Amer, Maria Abramovich, and Swoon. Judging by the trailer, it's a must see. Although, it might just send me further into the art cave of confusion. I should probably be spending my movie-going-time attending seminars about getting rich quick and Self Employment 101. A trip to the tax man wouldn't hurt either. Oh fuck it all... I'm just gonna go draw another pretty picture.