GO!

A year ago, I took part in the 5×7 Show at The Arthouse. I remember the excitement of selling my Camouflage Unicorn within the first few hours of the show opening. Art, for me at that point, had become something that I remembered rather than practiced. I recall the endless hours of obsessing over one color combination or the roller coaster rides of being masterful and waking up nonchalantly destroying what I thought were godlike moments. I miss the metallic sound of my palette knife grinding on my palette trying to find the next best hue, tone, value, temperature, or intensity; and, cleaning brushes at the end of the night with the brain dead drool oozing out of my face.

—omitted journal entry stuff about growth and potential—Later, Matt tells me, when my patron came by later to collect the piece he had purchased from me, there was a slight look of disappointment on his face when he found out that I wasn’t a girl.