I got given the oppurtunity to show in a gallery this week, from March until the end of May. I wanted to be excited, any gallery work at this point is important, seeing as my social media plan isn’t going, well, as planned. I’m keeping my options open, at this point in time my art career could go one of many ways, and right now falling flat on my face seems to be coming out on top.
My introverted ass does not want to get out there to deliver this piece that I made over a year ago; ironically the theme of the show is mental health. Hilareous. I have to work my part time job, which I wake up at 6am for, and then roll out of work straight to the gallery. I’m exhausted. It’s a chance at least.
Not only that, but in the 1 weeks notice I was given I also had to find a ‘floating frame’ for my canvas panel because obviously I picked the hardest thing to frame. I taught myself to make one, saving £65 — and to me that means more to me then getting a piece in the show in the first place. Why am I like this?
This should be an amazing oppurtunity.
I’ve not painted in 8 days now.
It’s a chance, it’s a small gallery, hardly London standards — but its another chance.