Sometimes it doesn't feel so cool to look different, and this was one of those occasions where I wished I could just fade into the wall.
I got a beer from the table in the back and the guy didn't have a tip jar. I understand the free beer - that goes with the territory - but I felt bad not tipping, so I asked him where the tip jar was, and he shook his head and grimaced as if I'd just made a terrible faux pas.
I guess rich people don't tip.
I admired the art in an awkward, self conscious kind of way, and then got the hell out of there. I had wanted to talk to the artist (who was also dressed down, I might add), but he was continually cornered by people talking to him.
But aside from all the pretentiousness, I'm glad I went.
I got a lot out of seeing the work first hand; it's always different when you see a piece of art in person as opposed to a photograph of it. I could see how the pieces were constructed, the layering of the paint and the charcoal on the paper, and could reconstruct the process of creation in my mind. It gave me ideas of things I might want to try in the future.
I am not an art buyer.
I am an idea scavenger. An inspiration thief.
The night is still young and I'm still all dressed up (in my own "cheap" kind of way). Don't really feel like sitting at home. Maybe I will dip into Neo for a bit.