I have been checking in on Ghia (crispy-gypsy)’s IndieGoGo campaign to get her moved to Oakland so she can take a game art job she’s been offered, and since I reblogged her post she’s gone over $1000. I recognize a lot of the names on her donor list, I saw some of my followers reblog her post, and I want to thank everyone who pitched in either with cash or publicity to help Ghia out. There are 4 days left in her campaign so if you’d like to take advantage of a $5 sketch by an excellent illustrator, now’s the time.
It’s weird when the serious questions can be answered with something other than a stupid gif but here we are.
The short answer is: massive exposure control. Once everything’s over and done, delete them from all social media. Withdraw fully. Spend time alone and thinking. Work through your anger and disappointment in a way that won’t expose them to the shitstorm in your head and guts. I recommend one month of no-contact for every year of the relationship as a starting point. Try to separate your reactionary feelings of despair and blame from objective assessment of the situation: both are valid, but should not be conflated. Don’t be petty. Don’t fight over shared friends. Take care of yourself. Be civil. Do your crying alone or with a good friend. Try not to involve third parties in weird rebound relationships but if it happens anyway, make sure you fully disclose to the new person what you’ve been through. Take vitamins and drink water and even if you can’t sleep, take some time to lie down in the dark and rest. I tend to lose about ten pounds; it’s like physically embodying everything I’m trying to get rid of, and letting it evaporate.
After you’ve given them and yourself the space you need, try to get past it. Civility is good, friendship is better—but often impossible.
Do art.
A few years ago I fucked up an important relationship with a good person. I designed a shitload of graphics and short phrases that only meant anything to us, printed them on stickers and put them up all over the city where we both lived. To this day I have no idea if they saw any of them or cared, but in a way it didn’t matter. It was a way of changing my environment to express my anger and guilt, and the act of externalizing was cathartic, and the natural tendency of sticker art to biodegrade enforced a time limit on my grief.
good advice from a reader about photographing paintings to avoid glare. although in my case it’s a working problem even more than a photography problem. i constantly have to lean around and hunch and stand on chairs just to see what the fuck i’m doing. i need better studio lighting but i have no idea how to solve the glare-while-working issue
I sat down to process orders today and made a stunning discovery.
An order from Chile was unusual enough—I ship to Australia and the UK and Canada all the time, but other international destinations are more rare. My interest was piqued immediately, but when I clicked the order to start printing shipping labels and such, I was absolutely floored.
The Gemini Observatory is one of the most important observatories working today. They hold the honor of taking the first image of a directly observable exoplanet. They produce images you have almost certainly marveled at, and the chances that their images made up some of my reference material during the creation of the Deep Map Pilots illustrations are very high. My father is a science fiction novelist and my grandfather was a NASA engineer. This is, personally and professionally, huge.
I just told Warren. He said, and I quote, “That is INCREDIBLE.”
They ordered complete sets of both the photos and the postcards, but they’re going to be getting a lot more than that. I owe them big. We all do. And the fact that they like my art enough to buy it, well. I’m sorry, there seems to be some stardust in my eye.
EDIT: I also got an order from someone at MIT. Honestly, this makes it all worthwhile.
For every free coffee beauty privilege gets you, it also gets you a guy following you down the steps on the subway, saying he wants to work his tongue into your ass.
Recently, at the bar where I work as a gogo dancer in an identical capacity as Molly describes in this article, my and Molly’s mutual friend John Adams insisted, insisted, that we meet and know each other. We’ve been circling each other’s circles in the Internet Art World for years now. I hope I have the opportunity to meet her next year when I go to NYC for an art show.
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Gratuitous plea for attention.
Don’t get too close though; stay on your side of the screen.
http://cardiograms.tumblr.com/ask -
Bee, honeycomb and honey jewel by Ilgiz Fazulzianov.
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“Women are afraid of meeting a serial killer. Men are afraid of meeting someone fat.”—
When Strangers Click, a 2011 documentary about online dating.
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‘Rebel’ by Senor Salme
