Pancakes and Booze? More like shitcakes and snooze, am I right!? LOL, BURN! 🔥
So, I heard about this thing early in the summer and figured it sounded like fun. I don’t know why. I’m an eternal optimist maybe? Or I thought it would be an excuse to have fun somewhere? I didn’t have anything else art related going on? I need to post this and maybe use it as a reminder to never do a hacked together, poorly curated, booze driven group show ever again. Why do I put myself through the disappointment, embarrassment and shame associated with wasted time, effort and money? Never again.
- I didn’t know when set up started. I asked and never found out. Turns out I was two hours later than everyone else and almost had to drive back home because there was so little room left. So that was a fun lack of organization. First come, first serve? Fine. But with no limit as to how much room anyone could take, there was no guarantee there would be space for everyone they accepted.
- The place was a dump. Temporary walls were set up throughout a dingy dark shabby cramped Austin music venue, resulting in a cramped maze, lined with the creative excretions of every sort of freak. It was more of a haunted house than art event.
- No one was there to buy art. Of course they weren’t. I wasn’t expecting much, but I was hoping for better. It was just a regular Friday night Austin freak show. Not as much of a hipster scene as a hive of degenerate sewer people.
- The pancakes were in a corner of the bar that was hard to get in and out of and the line of people caused a traffic jam that wasn’t worth the trouble.
- The stage had no room in front of it so the scrub DJs they had pushing buttons and tweaking knobs couldn’t be seen. Not that there was much to see. The first act was a young couple. They had a friend who, despite not being particularly attractive, took off her skirt and walked around in a bustier, fishnets and Chuck Taylors with her butt cheeks hanging out for no apparent reason.
- No body painting. I guess that fad is dead? I won’t miss it, but it is interesting how a few years ago, every event featured young ladies in their underwear smeared with cheap Walmart acrylics. Vaguely burlesque and naughty, it kind of signaled that you were at the right kind of party, but it also kind of made me uncomfortable. I guess I never got to witness the higher end body painting so I just ended up feeling bad for everyone involved. At least I was spared that awkwardness at this event.
- It wasn’t fun. It’s work. And you sit there exhausted after preparing and driving andsetting up and sweating. The place barely had room for the artists, DJs and their friends. Other people may have shuffled through but it wasn’t many and no one really wanted to look at art. We didn’t get pancakes or get drunk or make new friends. Kinfolk Art from Dallas was set up next to me. He and his wife were cool. But they were sober too and tired and not thrilled with the event either.
A couple of people saw my work and got excited. Trouble is, they were probably so pleased because they didn’t expect to find anything worth a damn in this sad pit of mediocrity. I’m still no closer to figuring out a place for me in Austin. Maybe there isn’t one. I’m sure I could find places that I like, but I’m still not sure if there is a market. People want prints. They can’t buy art when all of their money goes toward craft brews, organic gluten free tacos and rent.
I’m sure it’s just me. This and other group art shows aren’t necessarily a waste of time for everyone. These events are for younger artists, hacks who need to get it out of their systems and vaguely artistic booths selling stickers, shirts and nicknacks. It isn’t want I’m looking for. I sometimes think that because I’m pushing Texas cultural pop art, I need to be out where the culture is happening. That isn’t true. I need to be where the people are out looking for art to buy.
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