ISS. 1 : After Show

Holy shit. My first solo show and people came.

Paintings on the walls, drinks in hand, everyone looking cool. 
And yet, the following day, I’m alone, walking the panhandle, wondering if that’s it.

I take the path of dog runners and bike commuters.  Coffee slips over my hand soaking the cardboard sleeve. I put my lips to its honeycomb edges and kiss the espresso lost in the seam.


    • What’s next?

    • Gallery to gallery, 
    •      deadline to deadline.

    • Portfolio in hand, begging for another shot. 

     Selling myself, by myself
    And honestly, I’m so fucking scared. 

    Getting this show - two              months at MMCLAY - was          spontaneous magic. 
           Was it luck? The accident that led me here? 
   

This art thing started in my parents’ basement twenty years ago, cause I was a bored drunk, and now I’m birthing paintings I’ll likely never see again.                     
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