So happy, happy good times at the Tim Faulkner's Gallery this 1st Friday. I had rented a wall for some old stuff and he decided to include two new pieces, "Apologist Accepted" (not shown) and "Valid Realities" (shown) in his hallway because he like them so much and wanted them to get seen. Yay, Moe!

There you have it again. I tend to get nothing but praise these days. Any criticism comes in the form of a less enthusiastic response. The better pieces get talked about more while the less well accepted pieces are just ignored. Either my bad stuff isn't so bad, or people are too polite to say anything that might offend. Talk is so positive in fact that this spring I'm planning on inviting a bunch of artists to my studio for some food and drinks and to critique my work. No holds barred. Let me have it.

My desire for criticism, you would think, would have made me welcome the conversation I did have last night with a person I had only just met. She simply looked me in the eye and said "I hate your work."

"You hate it," I replied

"I hate it."

"That's it? You just hate it?"

"I hate it," she said again.

That's fine. She hates it. No problem. I don't even know her name and from the way she was dressed, her taste wasn't exactly beyond reproach, so my feelings weren't hurt. To tell you the truth, I thought it was a gag. I had reason to believe she was trying to get my goat, so I played along, asking her why she thought my work is bad.

"Why do you think it is good?" she asked.

I realized then that this might not be a joke. Never mind that no one asked for her opinion, but saying you "hate" something pretty much closes discussion. There is nothing more to talk about. Still, perhaps due to the discomfort associated with the thought that I may be talking to a crazy person, I explained I just wanted to know why she hated it.

She revealed a degree of defensiveness at this point that I tried to diffuse by saying that it's fine I just want her to HELP me understand where I might be failing...it was too late I knew. She was a crazy person.

"I'm not trying to HELP you."

Okay. Fun. I'm not interested enough in her to care because I'm thinking she's at best obnoxious if not completely sociopathic. While I wonder what she gained by this exchange, I do look forward to initiating conversations with her in the future, but by time I'll be able to hang out at the gallery again, the guy she came with last night will have dumped her and she'll never be seen again.

Labels: artist, criticism, first friday, Louisville, Moe Profane, Old Louisville, sociopath, Tim Faulkner, trolley hop