Summatime / by Anna Rae

Whew.   Summer in Chicago has officially arrived and we have been busy in town and in studio.  Orders up the wazoo (whoop whoop) and taking advantage of this beautiful city.  Feeling super lucky right now.  I like to think of my personal art process as two buckets.  One is for information and stimulation to accumulate and the other is to pour out onto canvas, paper, photos... or whatever mediums for that subject.  Right now It's the left bucket, all fill up these days so expect an outpouring reaction to all of that noise.  In this post, I will tackle four things I've been meaning to record:  1.  A photoshop "TBT"/Throwback Thursday (now Tuesday).  2.  A new item for the store.  3.  I fucking quit your art world.  4.  Findings.  

 

1.  Q: Can I post a Throwback Tuesday?  A:  Well, I'm gonna.  This one is another memory from my yout' when I was around 9 years old.  I was living with my Dad and Stepmom, and to be honest, it was quite gd miserable.  My stepmom was emotionally and physically abusing me on the daily and Dad had checked out as a parent and emotionally present human, to be frank.  There was a giant (horribly mean spirited on their end) custody battle in process and my brother and I were just beaten spirits.  I feel like this is when I started finding relief in escapism.  Books, art, mind wandering, and people.  In this memory, it was a person.  We lived on a cul de sac and at the deepest part there was a family with three boys.  On a bored summer day, I pulled out the wagon, put a huge stack of white hangers in it with a note that gave a price/for sale.  Apparently, I'm not the lemonade stand kind of kid.  I abandoned it after realizing that my small business plan was unrealistic and came back hours later to find the money, clearly paid with piggy bank change, was in the wagon and the hangers gone.  It was less than three dollars but I felt a smidgen of success.  One of the boys from the block sauntered over and admitted his purchase and my heart swelled, not for early crush-like feelings, but pure, and maybe desperate, acknowledgement that I could possibly find a kind and attentive exchange in this human.  He was the one of the nicest things during this time.  He was a stranger and yet extended his time and energy and for that I'm forever grateful.  We spent that summer intermittently playing like normal kids with no worries.  My favorite time was when we climbed his backyard to the Caty March Ditch, a small (pretty polluted, but, whatevs) body of water and happened upon wild blackberries.  We were both wearing white shirts and became quickly covered in purple.  Our faces, our mouths.  It was magical and pure and reckless and one of the saving graces of my spirit.  

2.  Drumroll:  New drool bibs.  I found a company that prints any image on fabric.  Whoa.  This makes screen printing seem archaic.  Here's my little cutie posing.  100% cotton and double sided/reversible unique prints.  Snap enclosure.  They are only 10 dollars and you can get them here.  

     

 

 

 

4.  I walk with the babies e'ry day and we came upon this beautiful ground wreath of fresh flowers.  I assume it was from some Summer Solstice (Happy SuMMER!) celebration in Palmer Square.  I 'oooooohhhhed' when I saw it and it was pretty a fantastic surprise.  

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3.  I fucking quit your art world.  The one where you measure my worth by how much you're willing to spend on my work.  Or not spend on my work.  The one where you tell me if my art is "good"  or rubbish.  The one that has you begging for support (of any kind) based on your access to inside information that is passed from one insider to another.  I fucking quit your gallery world that typically supports those that are gregarious and pleasant to the eye.  I fucking quit your art world institutions that financially rape the unaware while providing them with a (pretty much) useless degree (unless you're one of the insiders).   I'm 60K in debt, purposefully removed from the gallery scene, and the last thing I'm ridding myself is opinions like the below comments.  I'm aware that this is coming from someone who has no experience in looking at or participating in the history of art and/or contemporary art (who also wears socks with sandals), however, it is a blow to the bits when anyone makes a bold claim that your hard and emotional efforts are shit. It is the behavior of school children and I'm sorry someone said similar things to you.  I hope this version of the art world can forgive me for my abandonment.  From now on, it's all for pleasure.  I'm emitting pure decadence.  Taking it in and spewing it out.   And if you've got something to say about it, I'll make it public and make sure everyone sees what a dummy you are.  



That's all for now.  Thanks for reading, being supportive and just for being you.  It means quite a bit.