Why do I bother?

I am having one of those days that make me wonder why I even bother getting out of bed every day. Nothing specific has happened, just a general sense of boredom bordering on depression with a good dose of anxiousness.

I talked to the mother of one of my artists. I was going to give Michael H a show in September. I have since moved the show to December as apparently he is recovering from a drug induced seizure. Every time he calls the caller ID reads psychiatric ward. Anyway his mother wants me to frame his pieces. I explained that I am in the business of selling art not framing. Not my problem. She explained that her son could not help being crazy as all artists are crazy. Now, I am not going to fight the logic as Michael is certainly not the first artist that I work with that has gone off to the funny farm this month.

Michael wants to wrap all his pieces in clear acetate, attach a hook to the acetate and put them on the wall. Yes, Michael you are crazy if you think I am going to hang a show like that in my gallery. (Please note) the picture…

After I got off the phone with Mom one of my accounting clients came into the gallery. He immediately started talking about his company’s financial problems and pulled a big stack of papers out of his brief case. He then stuck the stack of shit on top of the papers that I was working with on my desk. That really pisses me off when someone assumes that what they have to say or do is obviously more important than what I am doing.

Oblivious to any potential clients walking in to the gallery he sat next to me, closely next to me, where I could smell his bad breath close, for 3 hours. I just kept looking at him and wondering A. What he was saying? and B. What he was thinking? Have you ever had a conversation with someone where half way through you start to wonder how you would see yourself if you were them? It is hard for me to explain exactly what I mean other than to say you take your mind out of your body and place it in their eyes. Well this is what I was doing to him. It is rather disconcerting. Sort of like the first time you see a backside shot of yourself on a video camera and your like “God that’s not me.”– then it’s like” God; that is me!” and you feel paranoid for the rest of the day: all the time trying not to ask any one if you really look like what you looked like on the video camera in real life.

So back to real life and getting out of bed in the morning; why do I bother? I think I like my dream world better. It is definitely more interesting and far more satisfying.

I am looking at the acetate covered Jimmy Page – and thinking it does not look so bad. However, a whole bunch of them together might look terrible on the wall. I also just noticed something kind of white and a little sticky all over the acetate and instinctively touched it with my finger. Hmmm time to go wash my hands. I don’t even want to imagine what it was. Why bother?