Once Step Closer

The last week has been beyond taxing as far as the traveling schedule goes. I watched quietly from a distance as everyone wrestled with the demands. You gotta figure that in a group of so many people there are the obvious professional travelers, they are ones that take to it no different than a duck to water and then of course there are the white knuckle vodka drinkers that are praying from the moment they walk into the airport to the moment they walk out of one. Out of the posse, I would say we’re all relatively decent travelers. With Santa it’s always about her bag limit, with Pip she wants to fly the plane, with Isabel there’s never a drama. Tori has to travel with her mom hat on and I, well I’d rather not be around so many strangers. After the Oslo show Santa went off with Isabel to explore the Norwegian coast. Apparently Isabel had some friends that have quite a spread there, so they drove spend the night and then would meet us in Berlin. The idea of Santa in the countryside is a 7 on the 1-10 shock scale, however, I have been noticing some pretty odd behavior form her lately. The party girl that glimmers as the lights of a city rise appears to be in a more contemplative mood. Oh of course there’s a passion for all that is alive and breathing and sensual, but there’s something else there now, a pinning that’s just me, that’s just conjecture on my part. A strange occurrence went down over the last couple of weeks. Essentially some pro footballer mentioning no names and that would be soccer for those Americans reading this just flies in to take Santa to dinner. How they met up I don’t know, probably at one of Nef’s crazy gatherings. As much as I can tell, it’s strictly platonic from Santa’s end. The last time he came in and took her to dinner I heard her door open at around 11 in the evening. I had been doing some research on my computer and something in me just decided to look. I don’t consider myself a snoop. I try and mind my own business, but I just had to see for myself if this guy was flying in because he was getting a whole lot of something that she wasn’t telling us or if the platonic show on her part was really for real. I heard a pertly click of high heels go past. I quietly opened my door and there she was all by her lonesome, happy as a clam, going into her room. Now as we all know, some girls pop up to their room do a quick spritz and the gentleman comes knocking within fifteen minutes with chilled champagne. So fifteen minutes goes by and of all things, my phone rings.

“Clyde would you like to pop in for a nightcap?”

I acted surprised, “are you on your own?”

“Of course I’m on my own silly.”

We had our nightcap, after a few sips I gathered up the courage. I said, “Santa baby a star footballer does not fly in more than once, bearing gifts just to be friend-sies”

“Clyde I swear, hand on my heart, I am not leading this geezer on.”

“What have you told him then,” I asked her.

“Well, I’ve told him that I’m not in a place to start a relationship and I’m not sleeping with anybody that I’m not going to have a relationship with.”

I looked at her with my hands up in the air, “And…”

“And he says when you are ready, I’ll be there. I’ve told him I may never be there. I’ve also told him that it’s best if I don’t see him until we’re back in London because there’s a lot to deal with.”

I looked at her and said, “Because we’re closer to St. Petersburg isn’t it.”

She was noncommittal and waved me a goodnight. We leave Deutschland and begin entering into Poland, once step closer to Russia.

The Bitchy Co-worker Incident

        Art by women of women speaks to me about a deeper truth of how "I am" than when
        male
artists approach the naked female body. I am drawn to certain artists more than others.... that is
                just being honest.
But I try to remain open so that the public does not feel my preference when they're walking
                through the installations.
More than any other approach, when a female artist makes herself the subject and or the object
of her exhibition I find it confrontational. That is not a negative. In some cases the work
makes me feel exposed or upset. In others, I was made an accomplice without knowingly agreeing
                to this. Once it turned me on. Once it made my skin crawl.
I welcome these feelings. This is why I wake up in the morning, to be moved to think and feel.
If a visual artist has no impact whatsoever on me, then I am sad. Because sexuality is at the heart
                of this exhibition, lack of impact is not an applicable phrase
                in this case.
I have been working constantly, basically sleeping at the museum so that the opening would be
                perfect and make deadline. So, when Santa asked me to go
                to see the live broadcast of a dance show competition, as
                disappointed as I was, I didn't want to leave the paintings
                or the photographs.
One night I found myself at the end of my rope, which is a place I don't get to often. The vibes in
                the museum had been ignited it seemed by a poisonous
                substance. Bitchy green monsters were oozing out of one of
                the women that works here. That kind of manipulative
                person can be wearing on the brain. Once she had left the
                building, I began to calm down. I decided to walk around
                and double check my reactions to the artwork without this
                woman's snide remarks about a lot of the women artists.
                Why we can't be more supportive toward each other as a
                community of women, I have no idea. Then out of nowhere
                I felt someone watching me. I turned around quickly, as
                you do, and there he was... the Bitchy-Green-Monster-
                Person's on and off boyfriend.
'Why do you let her get to you?' was the question he asked. I answered, 'Let's not give her more
                credit than she deserves.' 'What do you mean by that' was
                his comeback. 'Look, anybody and I do mean anybody,
                who talks so viciously about other contemporaries, artist or
                not, will get a reaction from me it's really that simple.'
He walked in without looking away and chose to stand between me and the paintings and
                sheepishly requested, 'Will you give me a tour from your
                perspective so that I can feel as passionate about these
                artists as you do? I work here too Clyde and I need an
                injection of this adrenaline that you carry for these artists.'
'What about your relationship with you know who?' I could barely say it. He looked shocked and
                shook his head, 'What relationship? You've got to be
                kidding. You-Know-Who is a psychopath and a stalker and
                I'm not far from getting a restraining order against her.' I
                had to laugh just because it is crazy how we all can over-
                react to what one person says, not realizing that they live to
                stir up trouble more than they need air. I remember folding
                my arms possibly to protect myself saying, 'Kyle, I don't
                need another stalker in my life, even if it's your one.' Out
                of no where he gave me a hug and said 'you can't let
                 harmless envious people dictate your every move.' Out of
                my mouth before I could stop came, 'This is not about my
                every move Kyle this is about roaming around with you in
                a deserted museum after closing except for security.' He
                grinned that grin and said 'Sounds like one of the better
                ideas I've come up with in quite a while.'
So I kept a slight distance for all kinds of reasons and began to walk him through the exhibition.