writing

you take photos in your studio apartment, using natural lighting against what you hope is a mostly-white background in order to better photoshop them afterwards. photoshop (kind of) works, but everything looks washed out, and it's really fucking hard to try and photograph something that is 4' x 8' when your ceilings are only 10', and you can only realistically stand about 15' away from the giant object. you import it into photoshop and everything looks horribly distorted (you clearly need a tripod) and the color balance won't get rid of the pale yellow light that always tinges everything in your apartment. you resign yourself to the fact that a studio apartment is not, in fact, a photo studio. it will just have to do.

you put the (kind of) edited photographs into a power point presentation, and begin to write meticulous notes on each slide. you start to (kind of) think about the reasons why you do the things that you do, and it all feels horribly personal and embarrassingly shallow. you dig deeper and manage to come up with something that is (kind of) acceptable. you even (kind of) impress yourself, as you've never really done this before, and you just (kind of) want it to be over with.

you start your presentation, and realize all of your meticulous notes are not visible on your screen. you don't want to waste any time, so you try and try to remember what amazing things you wrote in your notes, but only manage to mumble through, making excuses, telling things you never meant to say, and blurting out the (kind of) truth about the items. it goes okay. you go back afterwards, read your notes, and realize everything you forgot to say, and feel (kind of) like an idiot.

on presenting (personal) artwork to a group of coworkers, 10.14.13