"You find new, unexpected, spectacular ways to rip open every carefully repaired wound I have. Its terrifying."

"I'll live to fight another day"

- People who don't know the difference between "breath" and "breathe". One is a verb, thanks.

- M.C. Escher. Pardon me while I vomit all over your generic and stupid wtf-ever genre that's supposed to be, as I don't know because we never covered stupid shit like that in art history "art".

- Your lame, overly-critical, arrogant without room to be, insensitive ass.

Loving this quote. Also reminding you to look at the differences between yourself and I.

I worked 36 hours between friday at 8am and sunday at 2pm. Thats a lot.

And ironically, the person deciding if your work is original and meaningful enough is always a failed artist. Do you see how this makes things complex? Someone pursuing an art degree, and then an MFA, does not aspire to teach. They aspire to create and be a productive, successful artist. Instead these people have been banished to the world of academia - a world decidedly at odds with the art establishment. Academia is the antithesis of art culture. There is nothing revolutionary about being stuck in a classroom, conveying your knowledge to people who hope to become more successful than you are. Art teachers are the most bitter people to ever exist.

My shows were a bit incendiary. I had an exhibit at the FA dept gallery that made people upset. It had just been installed and the names hadn't been put up yet. My concentration was photography. The project was something about fear, I think. I never really conformed to the assignment descriptions, I always figured out a broad, indirect way to make it somehow relate to the topic. Art school is all about being able to talk your way in and out of things. Not only was I great at that when I entered college, but after so much formal training and practice, I can spin anything, any way. If you can string some words together to make something seem sebsible, conceptual and abstract - congratulations, you're a successful artist.

This particular project was all distressed polaroids. I love ripping apart polaroids and nearly killing myself with the toxic jelly they self-develop in. There were lots of german homo-erotic images, and text, and all sorts of horrible nazi fetishism. Oh so controversial. Feh. I stood back against a wall with one of the student teachers, she was not yet embittered like the full-fledged professor types. Overhearing all the shocked and upset comments from the viewers, she looked at me and said, "Oh, Sherrod... you're such a provocateur."

After college I became bitter myself. I couldn't believe I had wasted 5 years and thousands upon thousands of dollars with these pretensious, man-hating, closed minded, bitter women. There were no male professors, which made the feminist agendas even easier to perpetrate. I had a scholarship, but photography is probably the most expensive and dangerous concentration. The chemicals will kill you, and require certified hazmat teams to handle in large quantities. They absorb directly though your skin when touched and go straight to your liver. If you cut yourself and get chemicals inside the wound, you might have to have something amputated. I'll probably get cancer before I'm 40. In addition to all of the health risks, photography is all about precious metal. Everything is made of silver and of course lights and cameras aren't cheap.

Dealing with the attitudes and hangups of the art world really got to me. As soon as I finished, I packed up all my equipment and stored it in my mother's basement. I threw away a lot of my work, and packed up or sold the rest. I swore I would never do anything art-related ever again. I didn't want to be in any way associated with the shallow and hateful people who referred to themselves as 'artists.'

I kept my polaroid cameras [I have 6, all different] and have had several digital cameras since then, as well as my webcam. This is really minimal compared to the copious amounts of imaging devices I used to have surrounding me. My prized possession was my Bronica. I even had the most expensive sekonic light meter. Ugh. Its still in my mother's basement, in a custom aluminum case.

Let me talk about my mother and father for a minute. She's amazing and talented. She's an interior designer, and I believe her undergrad is in art history, and her grad work was in home design or something. My dad is retired now, he worked for AT&T all his life. He was a unix engineer assigned to the IRS. He always worked during the Bell strikes. As a 6 year old, I had to be escorted to school because of death threats and bricks through our windows during union fights. They picketed in front of our house, blocking the driveway. I had to duck down in the seat well to go to first grade. My dad is the definition of nerdy dad guy, with a lot of italian good ole boy thrown in. My mom is incredibly creative and has an amazing eye for space and detail. My life now is an interesting reflection of both of them.

So, fast-forward to mid-2003. I move across country, get into my own apartment, no roommates, no friends, not even my dog. I left almost all of my furniture in Atlanta. I kept a table, a desk, my bed and my dining room furniture. My mother came to visit last month, to help me move out of my temporary apartment, into a more permanent one. She helped me shop for furniture and found things I absolutely love, but would never have been able to find on my own.

I mentioned last month that I was hoping to begin Project R. I finished it, and I've shown it to some people. Its part of the project I want to do which will digitally document my living space in agonizing detail. I hope to have something to show by next week.

I don't consider myself an artist or a writer. But I somehow feel like I have something to say, and I want to express myself. Everything I say here is part of who I am, just like being around me and interacting with me illustrates part of who I am. I'm not the same all the time, I'm a dynamic and changing person. Moment by moment another angle can emerge. I have insecurities just like everyone else. I won't let those insecurities effect the decisions I make in life and in love, and you shouldn't either.