I dont know, perhaps i'll work in a storage centre, i'll probably stay in education for the first 24 years of my life, then i'm bound to get a good job, arent i? or perhaps getting a masters degree will just make it all the more humiliating when i get a job i could have done when i was 16. i know i'll make comics. this way i can spend the majority of my free time slaving over tiny details which will go unnoticed by the person who pities me enough to by a copy (while the other 100 go unsold) as he occupies himself in five idle minutes on the shitter.
the only career choice worse is to be a "proper" artist, where you spend all your money (earned at your shit job) on putting a show together on the off chance that someone with influence will see it and instantly catapult you to fame and fortune. what actually happens is your friends and colleagues come to the private view, drink all the booze which is laid on by you and go home. for the next 2 weeks you "invigilate" the show, as a maximum of 2 people visit per day at the gallery you are paying a kings ransom for and taking time off work to boot.
still, one day i'll make it and all this will be ironic and amusing. you just watch me...
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3 comments:
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa rrrrrrrrrr ggggggggggghhhhhhh
I see your pain and raise you an angst.
aah, the joys of invigilating. good book, soft chair, a strong bladder and you're all set. memories.
When I invigilated an exhibition I was involved in, there was at least thirty people in there that day. Granted, I knew five of them, but even so....
I tried to kid myself that it was only my art they came to see, until I realised they were running past my pictures at great speed, a grimace of fear etched on their haggard faces.
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