Well, the show in Milwaukee is a success.  It was really wonderful seeing so many friendly faces at the opening, and if you haven’t seen the show, you really must.  The gallery owners, Gene and Bridget Evans are absolute delights.  And, both of their studios are located in the gallery.  I bet you could go watch them while they work.

Judith Ann Moriarty wrote a very lovely review of the show, and while all press is good press, good press really warms the ego.  I just found out, through the magic of Google, that I was the A.V. Club pick for Gallery Night.  My ego is now on fire.  Burning.

Fun story about Judith Ann:  Ms. Moriarty used to publish Art Muscle, a Milwaukee-based, Midwest-focused art digest.  Judith Ann was the most influential writer and critic in town, and one night as I was making dinner for a dinner party, my cell phone rang.  When I answered it, the voice said, “Amy O’Neill?  This is Judith Ann Moriarty.  I want to do a story on you.  Do you have a few minutes to answer some questions?”  My heart jumped out of my chest, and in a moment of fluster and spaz, I dropped the knife that I was using to chop the garlic.  In slow motion, I watched the knife fall end over end, until it landed squarely in the meat of my calf.  The knife went so deep into my leg that it just stood at attention, like a lawn jart.  We started the interview, but then a few minutes into it I said, “I’m sorry if I sound distracted, Ms. Moriarty, but I seemed to have stabbed myself in the leg.”  She answered, “Oh dear.  Would you like to continue at another time?”  I paused, pulled the knife out of my leg with both hands, and said, “Nope, I’m good.”

It’s always good to be a starstruck dork.

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Holy cannoli.  Yesterday, we saw Darren Aronofsky’s Black Swan, and it is  b e y o n d .  I love movies that give a glimpse into the art making process.  No movie can speak to it specifically, since our reason or drive to make things and the affect it has on our brain can’t ever really be explained.  But Black Swan comes close, in an abstract, fever dream sort of way.   Lisa Cholodenko’s High Art comes close, and to some extent Crazy Heart from earlier this year.  Charlie Kaufman’s Synechode, NY also explains why art makers are driven to make things, but Black Swan does it in a much more palatable, if more cerebral, way.  (There is a good audio review of Black Swan here by the Onion’s A.V. Club, and there is an interesting discussion of the film on Gawker here, but please note there are a couple of mild spoilers in the Gawker article.)

There is no “perfect” in art.  There is better, and there is worse.  You practice and train and continue to make things to get better, to get as close as you can to perfect.    But here’s why I absolutely fell out at Black Swan: it shows in the most beautiful way that there is a single exception to this rule.  There can be momentary perfection in art at incredible sacrifice.

Mom, if you’re reading this, don’t see it.  It’s not a horror movie per se, but it’s super creepy in a Rosemary’s Baby way.  It’s not as scary as The Silence of the Lambs which you also didn’t see, but it’s spooky in a way that makes you feel like you’re on drugs.  It’s hard to shake, which I think is a good thing, but the creep factor will be hard for you to sit through I suspect.

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