I forgot the coin has two sides, if you have friends you're sure to have enemies. A friend said to me after my win of the People's Choice Award, "now for the cut-down" and I was waiting for it. I was told the show could only hang for 3 days and to come and fetch my work quickly, and as I was taking it down a fellow painter and friend sitting next to me was told to leave his work as the Taxi Club wanted to hang it. I felt the mental-telepathic message to "fuck off" but I stayed cool, wondering why they didn't look me in the eyes as we politely talked, while most of the other artist's work remained up on the walls.
The next day I got an e-mail inviting me to the "Flow On" of the Images of the Cross at the Taxi Club, which goes for 6 weeks and has much greater promise of sales and from which I've been excluded. My guts dropped, tears came to my eyes, I realised all the handshaking and congratulations of the crew from the TAP were totally insincere, fork-tongued, they were jealous and peeved at the clamouring of the crowd and thruout the proceedings were planning to "fuck me off" , they knew of the ongoing exibition from the beginning and kept it quiet from me. A no-talent poet, Robert Nobody, who had insinuated himself into the organization and helped hang the comp, got to choose who lived and who died, he seems to have held a grudge for 2 years from when I refused to submit a drawing to his book of poetry after he'd requested me to pay $150 for the privilege.
The dice are always loaded, there is no such thing as a level playing field, especially in master/slave Sydney. Red Robert had already told me the judge's panel for the comp was predjudiced against me. While one of the judges, an art lecturer from the local art college, was all for my entry, the other judge is another bastard who's held a grudge for the last 7 years, a grossly fat pig we call Jabbba the HUB after the arse-wipe street paper he prints, the HUB, a waste of trees. Once upon a time he'd begged me to do a cover for his paper, promising me $15o if I did it in the 2 day deadline and he pretended satisfaction when I achieved the goal, only he then refused to pay me and I had to chase him for 6 months to get the money, and the last thing he told me was, "you'll never get work with me again." And now he was my judge, I could paint the Sistine Chapel and he'd say something was missing. He's known to consume 7 water buffaloes per day and could feed half of Africa if he went on a diet, how infuriating to be judged by such a bag of shit who wouldn't know art if he sat on it.
My non-career in particular has been a long travaille of such predjudice, grudges and jealousy, at every level of the pyramid of shit there is a wicked bitchfight of manouevring, cudos pumping and money grabbing, it's enough to stop an artist in their tracks, it's just too painful to participate. I now realise the TAP crew were infuriated I'd won the Judge's Prize 2 years ago and had rigged the panel last year for a bastard named Toady Joe who won with a self-portrait, like Dorian Grey, and not an "Image of the Cross", but he's a personal friend of the organiser and she's the ultimate wicked Queen, me being Snow White and the 7 Dwarves. I let it go and participated naively this year without relising they had it in for me, I could've walked in with a Van Gogh, it would do me no good, they'd already decided to fuck me off, they should've been honest as I carried the painting in and saved me the $25 entry fee, but cunts like these are never honest.
My old guru had told me many years ago before he died in my arms that people will only like your work if they like you. This infuriated me as I hoped good work would stand by itself, but he was right, he'd had a long experience of the ARTS and humanity, you have to suck up to all and any, try never to stand on toes or say a controversial word, and maybe, just maybe, you will get hung on a wall. The sad thing for me is to have created so many enemies, yes, from an abrasive, cheeky personality but often from nothing at all, just for being talented, for jealousy is a mighty powerful force. I should be pleased I did such a great painting it's caused a kerfluffle and the no-talents have tried to abolish it, it really must have power. But after only 3 days in the gallery it now sits on my living room wall with no one to appreciate it, a winner that doesn't get an audience, like what was the competition all about if not to show the winner, why would anybody bother to achieve if this is their reward? Every dog has it's day, mine is still to come, something to look forward to I guess.
Robert the Red, a demon with an alcho's flushed face, is sending me urgent e-mails bullshitting me as to why I was excluded from the ongoing show: it's all for the other artist's good, there's not enough room on the wall for me, splutter splutter, crap, crap = they fuck you, they lie to you, then they pretend shock at your upset response and assure each other they were right to do the fucking as the fucked deserved it for not going quietly. Thank nogod I've got 7 true friends, all the fork-tongued back-stabbers can go fuck each other.
The next day I got an e-mail inviting me to the "Flow On" of the Images of the Cross at the Taxi Club, which goes for 6 weeks and has much greater promise of sales and from which I've been excluded. My guts dropped, tears came to my eyes, I realised all the handshaking and congratulations of the crew from the TAP were totally insincere, fork-tongued, they were jealous and peeved at the clamouring of the crowd and thruout the proceedings were planning to "fuck me off" , they knew of the ongoing exibition from the beginning and kept it quiet from me. A no-talent poet, Robert Nobody, who had insinuated himself into the organization and helped hang the comp, got to choose who lived and who died, he seems to have held a grudge for 2 years from when I refused to submit a drawing to his book of poetry after he'd requested me to pay $150 for the privilege.
The dice are always loaded, there is no such thing as a level playing field, especially in master/slave Sydney. Red Robert had already told me the judge's panel for the comp was predjudiced against me. While one of the judges, an art lecturer from the local art college, was all for my entry, the other judge is another bastard who's held a grudge for the last 7 years, a grossly fat pig we call Jabbba the HUB after the arse-wipe street paper he prints, the HUB, a waste of trees. Once upon a time he'd begged me to do a cover for his paper, promising me $15o if I did it in the 2 day deadline and he pretended satisfaction when I achieved the goal, only he then refused to pay me and I had to chase him for 6 months to get the money, and the last thing he told me was, "you'll never get work with me again." And now he was my judge, I could paint the Sistine Chapel and he'd say something was missing. He's known to consume 7 water buffaloes per day and could feed half of Africa if he went on a diet, how infuriating to be judged by such a bag of shit who wouldn't know art if he sat on it.
My non-career in particular has been a long travaille of such predjudice, grudges and jealousy, at every level of the pyramid of shit there is a wicked bitchfight of manouevring, cudos pumping and money grabbing, it's enough to stop an artist in their tracks, it's just too painful to participate. I now realise the TAP crew were infuriated I'd won the Judge's Prize 2 years ago and had rigged the panel last year for a bastard named Toady Joe who won with a self-portrait, like Dorian Grey, and not an "Image of the Cross", but he's a personal friend of the organiser and she's the ultimate wicked Queen, me being Snow White and the 7 Dwarves. I let it go and participated naively this year without relising they had it in for me, I could've walked in with a Van Gogh, it would do me no good, they'd already decided to fuck me off, they should've been honest as I carried the painting in and saved me the $25 entry fee, but cunts like these are never honest.
My old guru had told me many years ago before he died in my arms that people will only like your work if they like you. This infuriated me as I hoped good work would stand by itself, but he was right, he'd had a long experience of the ARTS and humanity, you have to suck up to all and any, try never to stand on toes or say a controversial word, and maybe, just maybe, you will get hung on a wall. The sad thing for me is to have created so many enemies, yes, from an abrasive, cheeky personality but often from nothing at all, just for being talented, for jealousy is a mighty powerful force. I should be pleased I did such a great painting it's caused a kerfluffle and the no-talents have tried to abolish it, it really must have power. But after only 3 days in the gallery it now sits on my living room wall with no one to appreciate it, a winner that doesn't get an audience, like what was the competition all about if not to show the winner, why would anybody bother to achieve if this is their reward? Every dog has it's day, mine is still to come, something to look forward to I guess.
Robert the Red, a demon with an alcho's flushed face, is sending me urgent e-mails bullshitting me as to why I was excluded from the ongoing show: it's all for the other artist's good, there's not enough room on the wall for me, splutter splutter, crap, crap = they fuck you, they lie to you, then they pretend shock at your upset response and assure each other they were right to do the fucking as the fucked deserved it for not going quietly. Thank nogod I've got 7 true friends, all the fork-tongued back-stabbers can go fuck each other.
