Wednesday, March 7, 2007

Who do I dad or the dog?

I met my dad at the Carleton Tavern yesterday, which is where we meet now and again when he's in town from Saskatchewan. He lives in D'Arcy, which is a small town between Rosetown and Kindersley. Which are small towns between Saskatoon and nowhere. I believe the popluation of D'Arcy fluctuates between 11-18, depending on how many of the kids are home for Christmas.

My dad is very active in the town hall meetings, where important issues arise. The last important issue was how much of the budget should be allocated to purchase new tables for the church. That meeting began in June, and for all my I know, it is still an ongoing source of contention between the warring factions in D'Arcy. Or maybe they've worked out their differences.

Anyway, my dad had visited the Parkdale gallery before meeting me for a delicious smoked meat sandwich. He told me that the art he had seen was surprisingly good, by which he of course meant that he had expected it to REALLY suck, and it turned out that it only KINDA sucked. He also mentioned that when he last visited my sister in North Bay, they had checked out my ass-painting video together, which sparked a reaction of laughter from dad, and one of dry heaving from my sister.

We headed to the gallery next, since I had yet to see my exhibit, and met James Robinson, the director of the gallery. There is some really remarkable art in that place, and a lot of paintings that I thought were amazing. And many of those paintings weren't even my own!

There were even ladies there perusing my art, and they all suggested that yes, it was in fact better than they had originally surmised. Three more women showed up and said the same. Then a nice young couple came by and concurred. I don't know if they were all being nice, but I trust James' opinion, and he said he had turned away some art at the gallery that was actually worse than mine. I believed this, but that didn't tell me too much. Had he accepted any art at the gallery that was worse than mine? Doubtful.

Everyone who was there made a generous donation to CHEO before they left, which was wonderful. I think we'll be close to the 30,000 dollars we're aiming for soon enough. We're trying to buy a tri-gen nail system for the operating rooms at CHEO, and they cost thirty grand. We're at about 20 right now, and who knows? Maybe this "Asspirations Of An Intern" might put us over the top.

James did tell me one thing, which I wasn't sure how to take. He has a dog that wanders about the gallery, and he says that it is trained to stay away from the paintings on the wall. For the most part, it ignores the paintings, but apparently, not mine. When James hung my art on the wall, the dog stared at it, then growled at it, barked, paced in circles, and basically freaked out. The dog, for a while, kept James from approaching the stage where the art was hung.

This means one of three things. Either the dog is an art critic who hates my work, or the art is so powerful that it can evoke a strong emotion in both people and animals, or the third possibility. The dog could smell my butt on the canvas.

This morning, I received an email from one of the real artists who has work hung up in the Parkdale. He said thanks for mentioning the other art that was hung in there, and perhaps we'll have a beer together at the big showing on the 12th. I'll ask him how the dog reacted to his work. I bet it wasn't as exciting. HIS stuff didn't smell like ass.

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