Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Fever in the Funkhouse now...6's...7's..and 9's.

Woke up from a crazy dream, all feverish. Nutso. It was a super vivid one, and I jotted it down here as soon as I got out of the shower:
One-time supermodel Claudia Schiffer was in it and I believe we were hob-nob buddies or something. Also a bunch of my present day friends and past acquaintances were there. The time era throughout the dream switched back and forth between the 80's, 90's and the present day - always off and on. The setting was at an Art show (in of all places and upscale salon) A group theme with various top-name Artists and it seemed to be in NYC or LA. Probably more likely LA. I am guessing this, because famous people were there all around in droves, and of course acting wrecked, wasted, and over-the-top. Plus it was loud and trendy like a disco. Total fashion plate city. Things that would normally send me screaming in retreat to a quiet outdoor setting.

Apparently I had reached some pinnacle of noteworthy fame, since I was a featured Artist there and the work seemed to be getting fair reviews from patrons and critics alike. Hard to tell though, since those types of people are always so full of bullshit opinions. If one popular in-the-know person likes your stuff, the rest are sure to follow, devoid of their actual opinion on the work. I was having cocktails with the Schiffster at this tiny little table, and we were exchanging cell phone and contact info. Even though we had the technology of cell phones, this seemed like the mid 90's to me based on how we both looked. I said goodbye to her, and then I headed back over to where my display was. You think I'd be totally stoked and happy about such a high-profile show, with such star-studded attendees, but I seemed really dissatisfied about it all. I kept eye-balling the exits, completely distracted. I think in real life, I'd feel mixed emotions about this level of fame in general too. It changes everything, and you can never go back to the way things were before it tapped you on the shoulder.

Paloma Picasso and her big black hat were there at the event, and she wore a bright red suit with gigantic shoulder pads. I recall being slightly disappointed when she spun around because I had seen the hat from the corner of my eye and hoped it was Yoko. Paloma had already viewed my pieces earlier in the opening event, and taken it upon herself to colour in the line work on a nearly blank canvas of mine. (One I had been penciling in and working on at the show during some earlier point to avoid mingling.) I just went with it when she took it away. When she returned, I was packing up my things, and I noticed it sitting in the box I was packing up. For whatever reason it wound up looking like some self-portrait she'd done of herself, in these very basic strokes and simple, but bright primary colours.

And as I held it and looked it over she said* to me: "You are going to have to do this on your own and it isn't going to be a simple thing - when you are a woman everyone always wants something from you! And you don't know about what exactly that is." (*or else it was something really close to this- I recall my response more verbatim than
her statement though.) I responded by saying: "I know. So to be safe, I just give everything." and shrugged.

She patted my arm and walked away smiling, and shaking her head.
There were all these upscale after-parties I was invited to, and stupid MTV was there, so it was obvious I'd done all right at the show, if I managed to get an invite to this kind of publicity event with such a big roster of names. I attended out of professionalism, and self-promotion I would imagine. But begrudgingly so, as it was clearly not my thing. And so I kept trying to break away from it all and find some quiet spot. I kept feeling throughout this dream that time was very fleeting and a big factor. Once I found a path and quiet spot to make my exit, I couldn't find any of my friends anymore. And I had to lug all of the boxes and art out myself.I wanted to slink away un-detected, but was a little reluctant about the manner of having to do it all bogged down with my gear and my paintings.Part of me wanted to leave everything there and slip out.I couldn't leave the work behind and I couldn't carry it all, but left the festivities, ungracefully bogged down like a pack-mule none-the-less though. All based on the hope it would all be safe and I should just keep moving.

Eventually, I ended up on a N.J. boardwalk (without all my stuff) on one of those little benches that look out over the Atlantic. (Ironically, a spot I've always found comforting in my waking life, ever since childhood.) It felt so nice to sit there looking over the sea, and there was a wonderful sense of peace and quiet - almost a silence - except for the sounds of the sea. The ocean waves and some gulls in the distance. I am recalling it was all so lucid that I could almost feel the sun and smell the ocean breeze in my sleep. Then almost immediately, I found I was sitting on the same bench comforting a friend of mine until we were both crying. It seemed so very real and deeply heartfelt.We were sad, relieved, and happy to be there all at once. The entire area seemed deserted, much like it actually does in desolate Wintertime down the shore, when everything on the boards is pretty much closed down for the season. And so, we were all alone. Finally. Even though I could feel the exchange of pain, it was all very cathartic and peaceful. When suddenly, I started singing this Linda Ronsatdt version of the "Tumblin' Dice" song. (..'Can't you see the deuces stay wild?'..) We were sitting on the bench laughing and singing in front of this big loud and crashing sea, and thus the dream ended on rather happy note.


Maybe it's all about hard-work paying off. Or taking chances before time decides our fate and fame for us? Who can say. Whatever..I know I'm ready.


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