The Tucker curse. At least that's what Dad calls it.

Well, today is Thursday September 30, 2010 & it was supposed to be a day of madness & last minute scrambling as I made certain everything was ready to go for tomorrow's big day.

My first art show! Man, was I excited. I finally did it! T & I made posters & postcards & got all 200 of them sent out & put into mailboxes way ahead of the show date. This was quite an accomplishment in itself for me.

I figured today I would be tweaking frames & touching up a little here & there. Last night I expected to throw paintings in the yard to get a feel for what they would look like on the walls in the place I was to hang. I had checked & rechecked that everything was ready. I didn't quite get every painting done, but by god I was close. I had more than enough to fill the space.

My friends were proud of me & excited. I had so many people telling me good things about my art & genuinely excited about showing up in support of what I do.

So, needless to say that when I opened my e-mail yesterday to find that apparently three confirmations of my show date, a confirmation of my reception date, & a poster announcing all of this hanging in the very place I plan to show was not enough for the place to believe that I was still planning on showing there, so they canceled & replaced me, I was in shock.

I begged & pleaded with them in a e-mail, but got no reply. Nothing. No, "we're sorry" or anything. No rescheduling. Nothing.

Then I felt like a low life for begging. I shouldn't be begging. I followed their stupid little guideline they sent me via their Blackberry with all of it's bad spelling & bad grammar.

I went in 2 weeks prior, just like that little guide said to. I did everything I was told. I communicated. They however had been rather rude to me already on more than one occasion. Short & snippy & a little unwilling to give me straight answers. The quality of the art they were hanging was pretty bad as well. I knew I would shine there. Boy, was I wrong.

I've been booted, canceled, shut down, kicked to the curb, struck from the list. I'm confused, frustrated, out a whole bunch of money for absolutely nothing, disappointed, angry, pissed off, & a little sad. I worked hard for this. For once in my life I felt like I was really being grown-up & taking charge. I still had bumps & hills, but overall, I was going way outside my comfort zones to get things done. All of this while battling throat issues & this last 5 days a severe sinus infection.

Tomorrow is October 1st. For 6 months that date has been on my calendar circled in red with "My First Art Show!" written beside it. October 2nd has "MY RECEPTION!"

All of life is like that trip to Disney World for me. I get to go, but I never get to ride the rides. I get the build up & excitement but end up walking away crying. Before I always thought it was my follow through, but I don't know how I could have made myself any more clear to these people. Of course hindsight is 20/20. When I got that carefree attitude from their people I should have been more stern. I should have documented who I talked to when. I should have called them & harassed them every other day to make certain they had me pencilled in. I didn't know.

I've talked to many of my art friends & most have mentioned that coffee houses & restaurants suck. Apparently they bump people for varieties of reasons. Their pal Bubba Joe really wants to show this month or Laney Jane has a wedding reception on Wednesday & she doesn't like the art. Whatever.

I've learned some valuable lessons. Lesson one: The artwork is about 10% of the whole process.

Lesson two: Man I have some awesome friends.

Lesson Three: Sometimes stereotypes are real.

Lesson four: It costs a whole lot of money to get a first show

Lesson five: Advertising works

Lesson six: When you start, try to stay close to home to start. Get to know the place & people that are going to hang your work.
That way you don't end up with nasty surprises.

So, on Saturday, I'll be at home. Probably painting. Sometimes I wonder what for. Why do I paint? Well, why do I breathe? Who knows, I just do, because I'd die if I didn't.

I would have been nervous & anxious & excited. I would have been having my first art show. Instead I'll be happy if I can breathe out of at least one nostril, get rid of the pressure in my head & go one night without hacking every hour for 15 minutes. I may not have an art show, but I have one hell of a sinus infection.

Que Sera Sera