To my intense and unutterable disgust, I wrote this once already, and it got eaten when I attempted to update. Sigh.
However, other than that minor annoyance, 2003 is off to a great start. (Year of the sheep? Has it started yet? When’s Chinese New Year?) Commission auction’s going well, other work going well, and I’m bartering art for art supplies with a friend of mine, which is always nice to do. Finally got paid for some covers I did a few months back, which is always a “Woohoo!” moment, and shoves the wolf a few more feet from the door. Put up a few more print auctions. (I feel vaguely embarassed plugging work here–don’t feel obligated to check it out! I’ll still love you all!–but I figure that since this sort of thing is pretty much what I spend my day doing, it’s as valid as anything else.)
Speaking of vaguely embarassed–I was delighted and flattered to be asked to be the art guest of honor at Trinoc Con this August. I’m stoked, of course, but I never know quite how to respond to these things, other than “Good lord, are you sure?” Then I think “Lord, will people think I’m being falsely modest? Should I just say “Damn straight! I rock!” (There are lots of classes offered on “taking critique well” but I occasionally think that we should also have a few on “taking praise without turning bright red and mumbling and worrying that you sound conceited.”) Then I give up worrying about it–my attention span’s really not that long–or I get distracted by a shiny object, thereby short-circuiting yet another opportunity for personal growth. Oh, well. But hey, if anybody’s in North Carolina in August, I’m hoping to get a dealer’s table, and I’m always happy to see people!
In other news, and perhaps proof that no omens for 2003 are unmixed, I’m coming down with something–sore throat, mucus membranes feel drier than the Dead Sea Scrolls, headache–and I had a really bizarre nightmare involving my cats beating up a monkey. The monkey developed horrible abcesses. When I attempted to check these, the damn thing peed on me, and in thorough disgust, I went into the bathroom (which, in the standard dream fashion, was the pink bathroom from my grandmother’s house) and threw up. I’ve never vomited in a dream before. This was an oversight that I wish hadn’t been rectified. Perhaps as a sign of both the vividity of my subconcious and its total lack of taste, I could even identify my stomach contents (egg noodles), which oddly enough did not match my meals of the day. I woke up going “YNNNGUGUGHHH!”
And that’s my nasty monkey dream for the day.
Oh, and I finished the manticore chick. As usual, it lacks some of the energy of the sketch, but I still was pleased.