Well, I am sending my first submission to an artshow. Did I mention that already? If I did I apologize. I have not entered anything in a show since high school (coughs into hand) years ago. And I am a bit nervous. It is not juried so I am not the slightest bit worried that it would be rejected.
I talked to the young woman who sent me the invite yesterday. I only have to chose which piece, figure out a price, and then ship it. And she is sending me a photo of a piece I did for her based on a Star Trek character that we made up for a script we wrote to amuse ourselves one week in a hot Summer. She and her sister are the first kids that I babysat on a long term basis. I am excited to see the piece.
I remember the character. It has the Enterprise whooshing off into space behind her. I remember the tiara, almost remember the dress. And I loosely remember the plot of the story. She is one of three pieces I did in that era that I really wish that I had copies of. The other was my interpretation of a Romulan Warrior Goddess. What? Well why on Romulus wouldn't they have some kind of deity? At any rate it was color pencil and india ink and on a standard posterboard sized sheet. It took weeks to do. It was inspired by an illustrator who did The Weaving of Dreams, Marilee Heyer.
And the other piece was a Chinese figurine inspired lady that I did for my sister for her college apartment.
I also wish that I had my high school portfolio. But I won't even go there. I still hate my mothers cat for destroying it. Of all the interesting things in the house to eat of my sisters or brothers... nevermind. Two phone calls interrupted me while I was writing this post and my mind went into a dark place that it doesn't want to come out of without the gnashing of pincers and the chomping of pirahnna jaws. There are art shows to look forward too and consequently happier thoughts to focus on. But I have a vision of a Romaulan Warrior Goddess in my head. That's a mighty scimitar she wields and an awfully purdy costume. The poor planet under her feet will never know what hit it... beauty in tragedy?