It will be so nice to get stuck into this great big canvas which has been so lovingly prepared over the past few days. 3 coats of gesso- the final one with texture and movement that will hopefully provide a good solid base for my background of ‘distressed’ peeling paint. It’s been a while since I’ve distressed a canvas – and I havn’t done one in oils, so I am really looking forward to getting into it.
Yesterday I met with a couple of lovely people from a place where I used to work. It was very strange to walk into the building, go up the lift and sit in reception – knowing how it all looks on the other side of those walls and not seeing it. Catching a glimpse of someone I used to know drift by and not being in a position to call out “hey!”
I realised that it had been 9 years since I had been in a ‘job interview’. A scary thought in itself. The last ‘job’ interview (I’m not counting gallery go-sees) I had was in 1999 – 1 month before I was due to get married. I had been freelancing, and while I was making a fair living, it was inconsistent, and reality had set in – that perhaps a steady income might be more valuable than the freedom at that point of my life.
In the lead-up to my wedding (which was freaking me out), my mother had convinced me that perhaps foundation undergarments might be a good idea under a wedding dress – providing smooth lines with minimum effort. Oh how I laughed – until I tried on pair of restrictive waist to mid-thigh knickers and saw instant results. INSTANT. Crikey! I thought – This is definately the go!
They were so good, I wore them to my dream-job-at-the-perfect-time interview. I must have this job.
It was an informal kind of interview – the head of department and myself trotted into a conference room with a low table and big armchair things, that were very comfortable, but rather low.
Slouching was necessary, which is not a good idea in restrictive undergarments. As we discussed ideology, past results, future plans and punk (of all things), I felt the knickers rolling down, and rolling up under my close-fitting skirt.
This was not good, and completely unrehearsed. I mean – you can’t exactly stand up and rearrange your undergarments in a dream-job-at-the-perfect-time interview. So I tried not to notice and be as charming as possible. It was very, very difficult.
Interview concludes. I stood up, trying to lurch as elegantly forward as I could only to find that walking gracefully was now not possible. Folio clutched to my waist, I lumbered out stiff-legged ‘Frankenstein-style’ to reception, trying to stay one pace behind the man who held my immediate future in his hands, and frantically fixed myself up in the lift.
Knickers went in the bin as soon as I got home.
I got the job.