I was very excited to be invited by Andi Campognone to be a part of her inaugural show at AC Projects only to be more than a little disappointed when I walked into the reception at her beautiful new gallery space to find that my piece was not there but hanging in a back room over a table that had brochures laid out on it. While my rational mind could follow the probable sequence of decisions - having to do with size, style, color - that led to the installation of my painting in that particular location I couldn't help emotively and reactively experiencing a bitter pang. Rightly or wrongly I felt utterly deflated and excluded. Even more ominously in the couple of exchanges I had with Andi she didn't mention the painting but thanked me for "participating". All I could think was she hates my piece! Then suddenly and spontaneously the painting itself began to crumble and fall apart in front of my very eyes and I could see clearly that it amounted to nothing more than childish and self indulgent scribble! Mortified I beat a hasty and silent retreat from the opening crowd and the bright gallery lights and sought the solace of the dark and anonymous Los Angeles freeway. There in the soft green light of my dashboard and the red tail lights ahead of me I lamented my fall from grace and mourned the withering up and demise of my mojo. If I ever had any...
