A little rant

Discussion in 'The Watercooler' started by TerryJ2, Feb 24, 2009.

  1. TerryJ2

    TerryJ2 Well-Known Member

    Sometimes, it just piles up, ya know?

    Yesterday, I went to a client's house to p/u my paints. Our schedules conflict until Thurs. and I need my paints b4 then. My client showed me the elevator I've been working on (yes, I'm painting a mural inside of an elevator shaft!). It is an Italian villa where she stayed with-her husband a few yrs ago. Absolultely gorgeous. Perfect setting for any artwork.

    She completely painted over my work.

    She had purchased huge wall murals, like wallpaper, and they didn't fit, so I was simply adding 3" to the sides, top, etc. in a style that matched so you'd never know that the poster was too small.

    But on the main floor of the elevator, there was one, completely blank wall and I was able to paint an entire scene. The original artist either used a huge brush or a palette knife, because you can see the strokes. Neat style. As you step back, it tightens up and looks realistic.

    My client's work is much more restrained, the colors are a bit more muted, and the strokes are smaller and smoother.

    It's a nice painting. It's just not mine. Nor, is it the original mural/poster artist's.

    I didn't think it was that big of a deal until I got home. Then it ate away at me. I am trying to detach.
    I need the money, desperately, so I have to go over Thurs. and finish. And then she will finish whatever I finished. Sigh.

    Please, give me strength. This is not good for my self esteem.

    She is extremely neurotic and she has lost her general contractor, her cabinet maker, her floor tiler and her electrician.
    I am the only one who has stuck by her. She exhausts people. (She and her mother are using bright blue painter's tape to mark teeny, tiny areas of the tiled floor in the basement where there are chips, and filling in with-oil paint. This is a floor!!!! husband said, "They're not bldg a house, they're bldlg a museum.")

    Then, I'm working on this Zimbabwe memoir. So many of the chapters are simple sentences, like, "In 1979 we moved to Matebeleland. My mother hired someone to rebuild the house. The rebels had moved inland."
    OMG, where's the passion? The angst, the action, the pace?!!!
    Oh, yeah. That's my job.

    I have talked to this guy so many times, and he just wants to repeat the history and the timeline. I have tried to drag out descriptions from him and I end up making up things. I'm lucky I've been right 99.9% of the time. Once, I actually fabricated a description of one of his teachers. All he said was that she was beautiful. I had no idea if she was black or white, fat or thin, nada. I gave her huge eyes, wide cheekbones, cocoa skin. He liked the description. So I have to do this throughout the entire book. I love to write fiction, but I feel like I'm walking on thin ice because I never know if I'm way off. I am getting very tired and frustrated.

    And then, there's difficult child.

    And husband and easy child are leaving for Honduras in less than 2 wks. I am going to try not to worry about them. They supposedly have bodyguards 24/7. (I will post separately about this.)

    I will be alone with-difficult child for an entire wk, during winter break.
    Last night, the pressure was bldng, and I said to husband, "Please help me think up ideas for things to do with-difficult child while you are gone."
    He said, "I can't. I'm busy. I'm looking for a waterproof wallet for our trip."

    I've been very cranky lately, and just this a.m., discovered I had my period. I just had it 2 wks ago. At this age, I'm supposed to be losing my periods, not adding more! My obgyn says my only option is a hysterectomy. No way. Too drastic. I can't take hormones because I had breast cancer. I can take Effexor, which takes the edge off, but it's not the same thing, when my estrogen level is -254.
    No wonder I was craving choc chip cookies last night!

    I have so much to do and I am just spinning my wheels.

    Thanks for listening.
  2. Star*

    Star* call 911........call 911

    There she stood, next to her silver, blue Audi paintbrush in hand. If it were possible to describe the horror she faced inside that home no one would surely be able to read her story, but alas, it is true.

    Like any other person in the United States, Tiki needed some cash. Her painting skills and remarkable talent kept her in high demand at a high price. This new customer was no stranger to high price. Type A personality people actually get used to paying nearly double and sometimes triple for craftwork in their lives. "It's the price of perfection" stated the woman to her neurotic daughter as they taped miniscule imperfections on Mexican tile. To see them in action, bent down on that cold, tile floor is to know they would surely rearrange an ant hill at a picnic.

    Tiki reluctantly rang the bell. The owner covered in paint answered the door. "good morning you ridiculous waste of skin and breath" she thought - but instead mustered a smile and a fantastic, goodwill Goodmorning. "I painted over your artwork." said the hag. "You did, but why?" pondered Tiki. "It was too perfect, I couldn't find anything wrong with it, there was nothing to ***** about, nothing to complain about, nothing that would have gotten me some sympathy from my friends. It was too perfect do you understand?"

    Smiling, our lovely little Tiki nodded and began her work hanging the imperfect wallpaper in the entrance to hell....er the coal mine NO NO NO - to the elevator shaft (thank goodness this is a rough draft) and painted happily along the edges of the imperfect wallpaper. It crossed her mind as her mind rethought her friends words "The road to hell is paved with good intentions, but in that house - it's papered with imperfect wallpaper AND your perfect artwork under it forever and ever." Tiki felt much better knowing that despite the hags attempt to cover perfection with a roller - she would never remove her work, and it would dwell in the house of the hag forever.


  3. Hound dog

    Hound dog Nana's are Beautiful

    Awww Terry sounds like your female client is svcking the creativity right out of you. I'd have issues attempting to paint something I knew someone was going to go behind me and add their own "touches" too. Sort of ruins the whole point. sigh

    And then the guy wants you to pull a rabbit outta your hat. Talk about one extreme to the other.

    Yep. I'd be needing to vent too. (((hugs)))
  4. Hound dog

    Hound dog Nana's are Beautiful

    :rofl: Star that cracked me up.
  5. TerryJ2

    TerryJ2 Well-Known Member

    Thank you Star, I needed that!!! OMG, can you help me with-this Zimbabwe memoir.
    No, wait. Can't do that. Not much funny stuff about war. Heck, now I can't work on the memoir at all ... although I could write a funny description of Mugabe and his wife and email it to my client to make him laugh. He's got that horrible cold/flu that's going around.

    Daisy, thank you for the hugs. I needed them!
  6. TerryJ2

    TerryJ2 Well-Known Member

    by the way, Star, have you ever entered the Bulwer-Lytton contest? You write the worst possible opening sentence to the worst novel never written.
    They are absolute howlers.
    If you could make your story above into one sentence, you could win, Big Time.
    Last edited: Feb 24, 2009
  7. WhymeMom?

    WhymeMom? No real answers to life..

    Star and Terry, I am eagerly awaiting chapter two from both of you........

    And I know there will be some inane ramblings of menopause included........ waiting........
  8. TerryJ2

    TerryJ2 Well-Known Member

    Once home, Tiki put away her paints and poured herself a cup of tea. Suddenly, a horrendous scream penetrated her ears (not to mention her peace and quiet). It was her fabulous son, Charming. Irate because his computer mouse had been taken away, he was in no mood to argue with his wimpy, overly romantic, sickeningly artistic mother, Tiki.
    "GIVE ME MY MOUSE!" he roared.
    "Go to your room," Tiki said, sipping her tea, "or I'll send you to the hag's. And you know what THAT means." Tiki was in no mood to argue, either. She had major PMS and it wasn't fair, not at all! How could she have PMS when she was going through peri-menopause at the same time? Wrinkles and zits all at once, as though she were simultaneously living in the body of a 12-year-old and 55-year-old?
    And to top it off, Charming had eaten her last piece of chocolate.
    "NO!" shouted Charming.
    Tiki resisted the nearly overwhelming urge to dump the rest of her tea on top of Charming's not-so-charming head. She stood up, jangled her car keys, and in a voice that Charming knew was her most serious, I-mean-business-voice because she used it through clenched teeth, Tiki said, "I'm taking you to the hag's. Now. Get in the car."
    Last edited: Feb 24, 2009
  9. DaisyFace

    DaisyFace Love me...Love me not


    This whole thread is making me laugh and yet feel so bad for you at the same time...

    Sending ((((Hugs))))

  10. Star*

    Star* call 911........call 911

    Her silence broken by a charming young man she gripped the mouse and squeezed until it's laser light fell out, killing it and her evening promptly.

    (well no one has track ball mice anymore) so it's laser light fell out. :surprise:

    Terri - I'd never seen those sentence story things before - pretty neat. My favorite was the I see dolphins - refill my medications.
  11. DazedandConfused

    DazedandConfused Active Member

    I laughed! I cried!

    (but mostly, I laughed)

  12. WhymeMom?

    WhymeMom? No real answers to life..

    Who is getting movie rights to this screen play? Just hoping for a happy ending, or at least a few quirky turns along the way........ and it sounds like you have quirky nailed......
  13. artana

    artana New Member


    We should do a thread that is just one of those "add a sentence to the running story". I'd love to see what came out of it.
  14. ML

    ML Guest

    What can I add after Star's post? She is amazing! Just that I hope some day you can afford to express yourself authentically through whatever mediums feel right. Hugs, ML
  15. Star*

    Star* call 911........call 911

    If I lived closer?

    - I'd paint my butt in a hot fucia color, acrylic medium and back it up to the hags door and leave a LASTING and quite visible version of some Impressionistic art. Kinda like a Rorshach inkblot test - but slightly larger.
  16. rejectedmom

    rejectedmom New Member

    Terry, I FEEL YOUR PAIN and Anger. :mad: I once I hung a show of my work in a government building. I came back a week later to find that the receptionist had re-arranged it because she didn't "relate well" to the painting closest to her desk. I was furious! It is such a NO nO to touch an artist's work unless it is in a legitimate restoration process. I also used to hang my work in resturants but got it back with grease and fly specks. :faint: I no longer do shows in that type of environment. Art shows at colleges and galleries is all I am willing to do now. I hope your business picks up so you no longer have to work for the likes of the "hag".

    STAR, You always know just what to say and how to say it! You crack me up. :D-RM

    Artana, I think that could be fun.
  17. TerryJ2

    TerryJ2 Well-Known Member

    After Tiki destroyed the mouse light, and it went bouncing across the floor, she rattled her keys again and stormed to the car.
    Charming followed her, curious now, despite his gnawing fears, despite his anger about the mouse.

    They drove quickly to the hag's house. They walked to the front door, shoe soles squeaking in the surly storm.

    "Mom, why is there a big fuschia b*typical teen mark on the hag's door?"
  18. TerryJ2

    TerryJ2 Well-Known Member

    RM, so sorry about that painting that was moved, and the food and grease stains on the others. I'm amazed how well my murals have held up at the Italian restaurant, but that's only because I used 6 coats of varnish!