Garr….
I have decided not to attend the Boardwalk Art Show and Festival again today. I’m still trying to shake off that creepy feeling of being stalked by a lunatic after yesterday’s fiasco, and a depression that the world is so hostile to even the noblest of activities. The last thing I needed was any confirmation of the validity of my agoraphobia.
One cannot even enjoy a beach front art show without being assaulted over what ultimately amounts to money.
What is ironic is I am a patron of the arts. I am the kind who drops a twenty in the collection at a museum even though the admission is eight bucks I wouldn’t have to shell out because I’m already a member. It dawned on me driving away yesterday I’ve given more money to individual artists, privately, to pay their rent or utilities, than any work cost at the show—thousands of dollars. Yet, shooting what amounts to souvenir photos, I am accused of piracy???
Ironically the weekend before at Harborfest I bought a book simply to encourage a local writer, Margaret Hoffman, who was signing her work outside of a trinket shop, even though of late I’ve been kicking myself for having books stacked everywhere I can’t seem to get time to read. The title?
I did manage to sneak in a chapter. It is very well written, one of those jewels you sometimes find doing such things. This lady can write. She’s got some very positive reviews on Amazon, and I can see why. I’ll break down the technique for you another time. I intend to add my review once I’ve finished. I’m also going to pick up some of her other work.
But for now I need to wipe the slime off me from yesterday’s encounter.
someballyard.mlblogs.com 