"I'm an art critic!" -Chuleta (a.k.a Jane Q. Public)

This summer has been the best of my recent memory.  I was informed by Cecile Chong that the space between the first and second year of an art graduate program is something very special.  How was I to know the predictive nature of this statement, other than to experience it first hand? I received my first house-sitting assignment (ever!) and recognize this as a kind of right of passage into middleclasshood.  I figure it's an opportunity to test waters of what it feels like to have stability, a place where you can actually keep your books instead of dispersing your library when moving to another apartment.  The blazing heat has been similarly cooperative, baking me to a very attractive COCOACHiC and providing a number of opportunities to show some skin (#iheartbeingagirl).  Anyway, I've been indulging in another pastime this summer, that has been a bit neglected.  Where I'm from we call it "instigating", but in artspeak, it's a "critical dialogue".  I have the good fortune of a spectacular platform to share my views (or instigate)  and it's likely that I will continue to dig deeper (under the skin) to encourage an open conversation questioning the whys and hows of creative practice.  I was speaking to a new friend and colleague, who at 70 years old, broke it all the way down when he said "Artists have a responsibility to their community.  It's the least we can do for having the rare freedom do what we want with our time - we're kind of like sophisticated bums".  My family would certainly agree about the bum part, as my begging for cash seems never-ending...   "But, because I am a snazzy dresser, and err on the side of volume when constructing my coiffures, I tend to attract amazing cocktail conversations. This is helpful, especially since these rapid dialogues often secure a studio visit or an invitation to the next cocktail party." MORE