Regular readers of my blog will remember the procrastination pain I went through for my dissertation. Many posts were dedicated to the activities I did to avoid actually doing the damn thing. You may have noted that this has not been apparent in my creative work. My poetry and prose deadlines met with 10% of the stress experienced for the diss. I have been happily beavering away at my creative work, as well as occasionally sharing the bizarre experiences of doing an art project on bus journeys.
You may be wondering about the title of this text and thinking 'WTF?'
Bear with me a moment. My reality filter is currently set to cabernet sauvignon and the translation is a bit blurred around the edges at the moment. There is a point, and it is: I love my creative work. It is my raison d'etre.
Today's battle I thought was going to be with my fellow course mates for wall space. How wrong could I be? Today I found out that the space we had been told we've been allocated, has been given to another course. Not only that, but the creative writing course has been given the exhibition space equivalent to the size of a broom cupboard (slight exaggeration, but not by much).
I am gutted. The images I want to exhibit need to be seen large to be appreciated; the larger the better. My tutors have encouraged my expectations. The problem has arisen because of the lack of communication between my creative practice tutor and the Powers That Be. TPTB couldn't possibly talk to anyone other than the course leader. a) He doesn't get involved with the creative practice aspect of the course and b) he has been swimming against the tide of shite heading his way. Not only that, but the creative practice tutor didn't even find out that we didn't get the promised space and only found out from a course leader on Friday. The good news is that TPTB have admitted the broom cupboard isn't an acceptable option and they will re-consider their decision. The bad news is we don't have any idea what we'll be offered. The alternative will be give to us tomorrow (at some point during the day).
In the meantime, here's a bottle of red with my name on it. Bottoms up!
Bank Holiday Sunday
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Well... At least you still sound polite! :)
ReplyDeleteYou're impressively calm about it, so kudos on that front. I'm seething in a Fight Club way right now, after failing to get the job because the b***h has given me a duff reference.
ReplyDeleteIM ~ I wasn't polite. I did a lot of ranting with many swear words.
ReplyDeletegertie ~ see above. I think it's time we sorted that bitch out.
Has it been sorted out yet? Or are you still in the cupboard?
ReplyDelete