Yesterday's "Bridging the Gaps" art symposium was pretty cool. Not so much for the official information during the sessions, which was mostly a)common knowledge, b)publicly available on the internet or c)total bullshit. But it was very cool to get an interesting mix of artists and curators talking about pertinent issues in the para-spaces: the Q&As, the hallways between sessions and over lunch. In a city where almost all art events are monoracial or nearly monoracial, it was nice to have some of those barriers broken down. Props to Deborah Roberts.

Hey, curators that I've talked to, this is what I meant--it is entirely possible to have a mixed crowd, to create a space that addresses a variety of constituencies without setting up some kind of stupid quota system or going about it imperialistically. If it matters from the beginning, then it will happen almost in spite of yourself.

The symposium was all about how emerging artists can get access to the biggie art institutions. Even though there was lots of "send in slides and we'll review your work" rhetoric, Sue Graze of Arthouse did broach the truth of the matter: you just have to know the right people and go to the right parties. Splendid. I'm all for telling the truth, gross as it may be. (top to bottom: Tonya E., Rachel K. and Larry W. from the symposium)

After the symposium, Kazki and I went over to Roi James's house where he was showing his new work, which is simple, abstract and divine. The fussier, renaissance-y stuff is still his cash cow, but his heart appears to be in the abstract work (which interestingly enough is nowhere to be found on his web site).

We talked about different motivations for doing particular kinds of work, that vague, unsettled insecurity that every outsider kid had in high school when you both hated and wanted to be accepted by the in-crowd cool kids. That question creeps up sometimes when I venture into a new kind of work: "Am I just doing this to impress the cool kids?" If I suspect the answer is yes, I stop immediately.

From there, we headed over to Hole in the Wall to watch Paul play with The Fighting Brothers McCarthy. I enjoyed the band, but was hating the smoky, collegy crowd, so I didn't hang around too much longer than the end of the show, which was already after 2am. (Paul, in medias gig)

A drawing from this afternoon (not a nude, even though it looks like it at this scale). It is the kind of piece that Bernadette Phifer made very clear at the symposium would not be welcome at the Carver Museum and Cultural Center. The whole complicated truth of experience can be so inconvenient.