Pouring Rain

It is raining so hard this morning that the dogs are still wet from their reluctant walk four hours ago. I put rubber boots on along with my thrift shop raincoat, but I still had to change my pants when I got back. The poor dogs didn't have that option and are lying miserably on their beds waiting for evaporation to take place. I tried to take a picture, but raindrops (and even pelting rain) do not photograph well.

Tonight is the grand opening of the gallery, and I planned to go. Unless the weather improves, though, I may stay home. It would be hard enough to mingle if I had the option of moving outside, but being crushed into a crowd of rain-steamed revellers is far from appealing. I have seen only a few of the members since my dramatic exit and subsequent leave of absense. I would rather see them in a more fluid environment this first time.

Leaving the gallery, albeit temporarily, has given me a sense of uneasy freedom. My philosophical reasons for getting away had to do with the commodification of art, and without a gallery I certainly have taken a decisive step in the other direction. I can test my position now, removing myself from the selling game. I can immerse myself in the process of making paintings rather than turning them into cash. I detest working to please some anonymous buyer, trying to guess what will loosen the purse strings of people whose taste I rarely admire. I hate thinking about displaying paintings to attract the public eye, getting the lighting right.........well, I'm not a business person (and proud of it).

Meanwhile, I'm folding paper to make origami bugs.