chain letter casualty

A month or so ago, I got invited to participate in an art show at the Shoshana Wayne Gallery called Chain Letter. You were probably invited too. As best I could tell, approximately twenty percent of the world’s population showed up at Bergamot Station this morning to unload their artwork. I guess that’s what happens when the premise of your show is “Invite ten people who will each invite ten people who will….”

Pretty soon you get people like me, who aren’t even visual artists, making little collages. The next thing you know, it’s installation day and Cloverfield is backed up all the way to the 10. It was like an effing Dodger Game, or what the Glendale Galleria does to the 5 at Christmastime. And once I got to the actual gallery, it was pure Hollywood Forever.

I immediately turned around, which tells you something about my commitment to visual art. I sent some of the people I invited—Sara, Pedro and Jennifer—mission-aborted texts. Suzanne actually made it in, so it will be fun to go see her stuff. Jennifer and I are both going to see Dolly Parton at the Hollywood Bowl tomorrow night, so we decided we’ll bring our art and put it on the bench next to us and say 10,000 people saw it.

In the meantime, here are a few excerpts for you. Remember that angsty pioneer poem I wrote last month? For my art project, I turned it into a sketchbook. I love sketchbooks. But because the narrative is continuous, it kind of reads like an illustrated poem, except that there’s no overarching concept for the visual elements, so it’s sort of problematic. It’s also really personal, and I feel like it would be small and lonely and stepped on in that show. Plus, I drew myself naked (there is a naked-er picture than the mermaid one below, but I am not posting it in case I run for congress or something). I’m not that great of an artist, though, so it’s basically a cartoon of a generic naked lady. In real life I have more cellulite.