Fine Art Photo Show or Why Nice Photo Mag Sucks
Maybe you’ve noticed a decrease in posts lately here at Nice Photo Mag. Well, there’s a reason. Not an excuse, but a reason. I’ve been working on a series of photographs called “Stills From the Unrealized Films of a Stranger” for some time. It’s for my first solo fine art show. Call me strange, but I’m very excited about it.
Well, the past three weeks were the sprint to wrap it up so I could get all the final prep done in time for the opening. I spent a lot of time finding the right high end canvas Giclee printer, a local framer to stretch the canvas, taking the final shot, and a million little etc’s. Anyway, you don’t want to know all the gory details. What matters is it’s done.
You can see the images from the show here:
The opening party is on October 2nd here in Los Angeles. And guess what? You are invited. “Who me?” No, I’m talking to that portrait of Elvis on the wall behind you. Yes you! And readers of Nice Photo Mag get in for FREE! All you have to do is when you get to the door yell, “NICE PHOTO MAG GIVES ME BRAIN CRAMPS!” and kick the bouncer in the nut bucket. Okay, actually everyone gets in free. It’s open to the public, but still, If you want to yell that out, go ahead. Info on the opening can be found here:
Now that is out of the way, this is supposed to be the part of the post where I tell you “Now that the show is ready to go, I can get back to posting lots more articles on Nice.” Well, not exactly. My wife and I are about to have our first baby (just a few weeks away now), and there are a few secret projects in the works creatively that are going to take up nearly all of my free time. So, basically, what I’m trying to say is, I think we should break up. I know, we had some great times. And you did some things I asked you to do even though you thought they were weird and gross. But it felt good, right?
What’s that? You love me? Oh.
Okay. How about this: We don’t break up. But we see each other a little less. How much? I’ll try to see you once or twice a week. Sometimes maybe more, but some weeks not at all.
Don’t cry. Come on. It’s the best I can do. It’s that or nothing.
Oh, and I get to see other people.
Fetus at 14 weeks. Much, much bigger and less alien looking now 20 weeks later.