Last night Artists & Models was a shitload of fun, my photo booth made a goodly amount of cash and after I figure out my materials costs I'll fork over the rest to the sponsoring arts org, Hallwalls. A lot of people said that they thought it was one of the best installations as it was interactive and humorous. All of my little helpers helped people select their fav secret and then they posed for a Polaroid which was $5. Most favored secrets were "I'm hung like a horse," "these aren't real," "I have a yeast infection," "I'm a true brunette," and "I love Billy Joel." There were about fifty secret choices. A gaggle of drag queens swiped "I dig internet porn" for a while and my helpers got incensed and hunted it down. Later, I was roaming for my photo column, and missed this melee, but three of my girlie friends were in an altercation with a drunk guy who took off with "I'm hung like a horse." They were, quite possibly, fueled by the shots of tequila which I had been plying them with all evening, served in film canisters in a smart and handy box. I'm not so sure I would want to wrangle a man who's hung like a horse. So at 2AM the house lights came on - show over - and me and the (unruly) gang broke down my photo booth in what seemed like a few minutes. The beau drove my car into the convention center and we loaded it up - as much as we ourselves were loaded. Earlier in the day, whilst setting up, I scouted out the p.a. system in the massive concrete space - a really hip-looking 70's mic of stainless on a very ergonomic base. So as we were all about to depart I swooped into the "command center" and my pal Steve B (musician & Hallwalls' music programmer) was sitting at the desk. I walked in and very quickly and calmly picked up the mic, pressed the large rectangular button for speak mode, and belted out about four lines of "Feelings" before another Hallwalls pal came RUNNING in to grab the mic out of my hands. Then out for more cocktails and further mayhem.
ps: Did run into my mag editor and instead of strangling me, she shook her finger at me for what seemed a long time. She said: "we've got black & white proofs coming on Monday and I'll have some explaining to do as to why your piece is not sitting in its space." I've been in this crazy racket to know that if that were really the case I would have received a dunning/serious/threatening/authoritarian phone call earlier in the week. If any editors are reading this, be up front, specific even. We writer/photographer types are a wily bunch, trained in information suppression and phrase turning. Dissemination is power. Procrastination is an art. Adrenaline is responsible for most of the activity and productivity in the whole huge world.