A Year of Mouth Taping and Arting Bureaucratic
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A Year of Mouth Taping and Arting Bureaucratic
Wait. Before you wind up your 21st century trope assessor® into an indict tizzy, please note that the title to the painting is literal—no double entendre here. I want to tape her mouth shut, in three places. A long horizontal strip across the lips, and two ends stuck vertically to hold the longer one in place all night long. It’s the only affordable way to insure a night of zero mouth-breathing. She won’t snore through her nose, and onset sleep apnea, along with most of its 6 billion dollar “treat the symptoms” industry, goes bye-bye like tooth decay from a daily flossing and brushing regimen.
In 1875, Native American portrait painter George Catlin’s last written words were:
“If I were to endeavor to bequeath to posterity the most important Motto which human language can convey, it should be in three words—Shut your mouth.”
You can read it for free. No co-pay.
Good health is so sick of the profit motive.
Off track.
October 6 is the last day of my year long volunteer artist/administrator residency. I am going to miss the time, the many hours of aloneness, the pretending of doing, of being recognized by society as an art worker for free.
A video of paintings made over the year:
I did other stuff too. Cleaned toilets and wrote grants. If you seek a competent administrator, then please look further. I cannot be tasked for money. It’s been artist-trained out of my scope. I’m a committed painter (double entendre), so I’ll stick to that like tape on a mouth until my nose stops breathing.
The last residency paintings up close, always personal:
A Year of Mouth Taping and Arting Bureaucratic
Now that you're finishing up that painting residency, do you want to come paint MY residence?
Somebody told me, about 20 years ago, that the reward for volunteering one's time and treasure was the way it made US feel.
I agree with that, to a certain moment in time; it is that moment when we realize that we are as "fulfilled" in that regard as is necessary. After that, we are, as Mr. Capp's "Shmoos"--gladly sacrificing ourselves for the indignoranti's misinfotainment.