23 February 2005
116
R. Linda:
In the last three months, before the round of parties started, Argiebelle got herself a gallery showing of her artworks. Now you must realise as I have told you prior, these artworks are unusual. She could be an artist for Disney if she'd go to California and apply. I think she'd get the job actually, she's that talented.
Some months back, she had a bundle of her art removed from storage. All stuff she hadn't got around to finishing and it all had one theme. It is faeries with wings, faeries hiding in flowers, faeries in flight, and faeries dancing. If you are into faeries you will love these pieces. They are well done, I'll give her that much, but not to me taste I'd want one hanging on me wall.
Argie got to working pretty steadily on these pictures and she finished them up. When I first saw them, I thought they were finished, but no, no, they needed a little of this, and a little of that, and a wee bit more of this she told me. She, without telling a soul, took three of them to a local gallery and begorrah, the woman liked them. So much so, that she wanted to introduce our very own Tinkerbelle as a local artist with something to sell.
Put your wallet away, we are not shopping for faery pictures. I looked for you and there is none to be had wearing a purple boa, red floppy hat and sparkle orange crocs.
All right then. This news she informed the entire building of and sure enough we each got invites to the gallery show. For months now Tinkerbelle has known about this showing and it is not the first one she's ever had. You'd think after several years in the art world she'd know what was needed for the upcoming show. Guess again.
On Saturday, I had gone and brought the Jag up to me friend. On Sunday, was the gallery show. I had performed me time management for every second of both days and it worked out quite well. I was relaxed, and in a good mood, and though I was not looking forward to the gallery show, I was fine with it. It was scheduled for 4 p.m. and I had done me food shopping early, I had taken Ton out for a quick MacDonald's, I had come back and pressed a shirt for the occasion, and by 2:30 I was showered and shaved, all I had to do was dress. Since I had some time I sat down at me computer to finish up some work, thinking I had until 3:30 to get dressed, quarter to the hour I would pick up Tonya and off to the show we'd go. Only that isn't what happened.
At 3:25 I get this hysterical phone call from Tink telling me in her Cyndi Lauper voice that she needs a bio real quick. "Type one up for me Gabe, and I'll be over to pick it up. Oh and, I need a price list, type Margaret Sprite - original canvas work - $900 and then type Angel Among the Flowers - original canvas work - $900 no, no, make that $1000. And put some squiggly things on the bio for effect." There was more but that'll give you an idea. I was also told to tell Tonya to have her iron hot because Tink had to iron some fabric that she was going to staple to a board for one piece of prided artwork in particular. And, for me to run down to the Super and get a staple gun.
By now it be 3:30 and I be sweating buckets. I rang everyone, I thought it easier than running up and down the stairs in me underwear. What to write? How does one write a bio for someone they don't know a fecking thing about? I had no clue what university she had attended if any, what her passions in creating the kind of art she produces were, or anything else for that matter.
As for squiggly things, I had no clipart on me machine, and as it was I was going to have to copy it all to disk and then go to Alison's to print it off since I had no printer.
I rang Tink's mobile and threatened to do nothing if she wasn't more cooperative. I got the background like this, "Gees Gabe, I went to Mosaic Art School in Ravenna, Italy, and then to Oregon State where I perfected technique, gees Gabe, and what else do ya need huh?"
Did I need? I did want to strangle her. You don't know how much I could feel me fingers around that neck of hers but for all the beads she wears. Be a little hard to press on those, but I was near willing to give it a go. She arrived like three seconds after me conversation with her. I didn't have a thing done but the first line of her bio.
She was dressed in beads and gauze, and her hair was wrapped in a multitude of scarves (because it was a bad hair day), and I be thinking Cyndi Lauper and why do I let her do this to me?
Evidentially, while she and Tonya were putting the fabric on the board and stapling it haphazardly, I got things written up and to Alison's (in me boxers no less). I had been sitting at me machine with just me boxers because I was home by meself, thinking misguidedly, I had time to do some work before all hell broke loose and I was doing things for the art world.
If anyone noticed me state of dress or lack of it, they said nothing as I trotted from one apartment to the other trying to get last-minute Tinkerbelle's "stuff" together. Well, I did and I had no time to blow dry me hair because as she ran out I had only time to dress, run a comb through me wet locks, grab Tonya, and go.
If that wasn't bad enough (because we were going to be late), Tonya gave the VW the gas and we found a policeman on our tail the entire way to make sure we didn't speed. Begorrah, I'm Irish and have no luck I tell you, none!
We got in the door of the gallery and were met by the owner and a glass of shiraz was put in each of our hands, we were then told there were hor d'oeuvres and to enjoy the art. "Finally," I think, "we can stand around and get sloshed." But NO. Tink came running over and no matter how hard I tried to act like I didn't know her, I couldn't shake her off me arm. Tonya was pulling me one way, me wine be sloshing over me, and Tink was pulling me in the other direction. I didn't think Tonya's remark about where was King Solomon when you needed him was very funny.
I ended up buying a piece of Argie art. A little one. I did not want to, but I had no choice because Tink made a big production OUT LOUD about how I had inspired her to paint that particular piece because of what I told her about Ireland and the faery lore there. I wanted to rip me tongue out for ever telling her that story. But everyone was looking at me and it was quite obvious to all that she painted it for yours truly. SIGH.
I shelled out $250 bucks that I could not afford. Of course on the way home Tonya was chattering away about the show and every time I was mentioned, the word sucker was substituted for the name Gabe. Tonya and I did make a pact that when we moved we would put the picture not in the living room as suggested by the artist, but in a back closet no one uses. Of course, if the artist decides to pay us a visit it will be in the living room and removed as soon as said artist leaves the premises.
And she will go home in spite of what you have been telling me. I don't care if there are 24 inches of snow and the roads aren't ploughed. I will personally strap Tink on me back and ski her to the bus station even if that is a million miles away. No way is Tink living at our house.
You have evil thoughts sometimes R. Linda, and I be bound and determined IT AIN'T GONNA HAPPEN.
Gabe
By now it be 3:30 and I be sweating buckets. I rang everyone, I thought it easier than running up and down the stairs in me underwear. What to write? How does one write a bio for someone they don't know a fecking thing about? I had no clue what university she had attended if any, what her passions in creating the kind of art she produces were, or anything else for that matter.
As for squiggly things, I had no clipart on me machine, and as it was I was going to have to copy it all to disk and then go to Alison's to print it off since I had no printer.
I rang Tink's mobile and threatened to do nothing if she wasn't more cooperative. I got the background like this, "Gees Gabe, I went to Mosaic Art School in Ravenna, Italy, and then to Oregon State where I perfected technique, gees Gabe, and what else do ya need huh?"
Did I need? I did want to strangle her. You don't know how much I could feel me fingers around that neck of hers but for all the beads she wears. Be a little hard to press on those, but I was near willing to give it a go. She arrived like three seconds after me conversation with her. I didn't have a thing done but the first line of her bio.
She was dressed in beads and gauze, and her hair was wrapped in a multitude of scarves (because it was a bad hair day), and I be thinking Cyndi Lauper and why do I let her do this to me?
Evidentially, while she and Tonya were putting the fabric on the board and stapling it haphazardly, I got things written up and to Alison's (in me boxers no less). I had been sitting at me machine with just me boxers because I was home by meself, thinking misguidedly, I had time to do some work before all hell broke loose and I was doing things for the art world.
If anyone noticed me state of dress or lack of it, they said nothing as I trotted from one apartment to the other trying to get last-minute Tinkerbelle's "stuff" together. Well, I did and I had no time to blow dry me hair because as she ran out I had only time to dress, run a comb through me wet locks, grab Tonya, and go.
If that wasn't bad enough (because we were going to be late), Tonya gave the VW the gas and we found a policeman on our tail the entire way to make sure we didn't speed. Begorrah, I'm Irish and have no luck I tell you, none!
We got in the door of the gallery and were met by the owner and a glass of shiraz was put in each of our hands, we were then told there were hor d'oeuvres and to enjoy the art. "Finally," I think, "we can stand around and get sloshed." But NO. Tink came running over and no matter how hard I tried to act like I didn't know her, I couldn't shake her off me arm. Tonya was pulling me one way, me wine be sloshing over me, and Tink was pulling me in the other direction. I didn't think Tonya's remark about where was King Solomon when you needed him was very funny.
I ended up buying a piece of Argie art. A little one. I did not want to, but I had no choice because Tink made a big production OUT LOUD about how I had inspired her to paint that particular piece because of what I told her about Ireland and the faery lore there. I wanted to rip me tongue out for ever telling her that story. But everyone was looking at me and it was quite obvious to all that she painted it for yours truly. SIGH.
I shelled out $250 bucks that I could not afford. Of course on the way home Tonya was chattering away about the show and every time I was mentioned, the word sucker was substituted for the name Gabe. Tonya and I did make a pact that when we moved we would put the picture not in the living room as suggested by the artist, but in a back closet no one uses. Of course, if the artist decides to pay us a visit it will be in the living room and removed as soon as said artist leaves the premises.
And she will go home in spite of what you have been telling me. I don't care if there are 24 inches of snow and the roads aren't ploughed. I will personally strap Tink on me back and ski her to the bus station even if that is a million miles away. No way is Tink living at our house.
You have evil thoughts sometimes R. Linda, and I be bound and determined IT AIN'T GONNA HAPPEN.
Gabe
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